The Forsaken Heir

The cold morning air bit at Lorian’s skin as he stormed out of the dining hall, his confrontation with his father still fresh in his mind. But this time, there was no lingering doubt, no yearning for approval. The anger he felt wasn’t about what his father thought of him anymore; it was about the injustice of the situation and the fact that he had been denied a chance to prove himself. His father’s opinion no longer mattered—what mattered now was what Lorian could do with his own two hands.

His feet carried him to the training grounds almost on instinct, the path well-worn from years of walking it. This time, though, there was a different fire in his step—a resolve that had nothing to do with anyone else’s expectations. He wasn’t here to prove anything to his father or to live up to a legacy that had been stripped from him. He was here for himself, to forge his own path.

When he arrived at the training fields, the sun was just beginning to rise, casting long shadows across the empty grounds. The soldiers were nowhere to be seen, leaving the space quiet and still, which suited Lorian perfectly. He needed this moment to himself, to gather his thoughts and focus on what he needed to do.

Captain Aric was already there, as usual, his back turned as he examined the training weapons laid out on the racks. He turned when he heard Lorian approach, his brow furrowing slightly at the sight of the young man’s determined expression.

“Lorian,” Aric greeted, his tone calm but tinged with curiosity. “You’re here early. Something on your mind?”

Lorian took a deep breath, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. “I’m done trying to live up to expectations that I’ll never meet,” he said bluntly. “But that doesn’t mean I’m giving up. I need to be better—stronger. The Grand Melee is coming, and I want to be ready. I’m not doing this for anyone else. I’m doing it for me.”

Aric studied him for a moment, noting the change in Lorian’s demeanor. There was a new resolve in his eyes, a strength that hadn’t been there before. Aric nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “That’s the right attitude. If you’re serious about this, we’ll push your limits today. But it’s going to take more than just swinging a sword around.”

Lorian nodded, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword. “I’m ready for whatever it takes.”

Aric stepped aside, motioning for Lorian to choose his weapon. As Lorian picked up the familiar sword, the weight of it in his hand felt grounding. This was something he could control, something he could improve through sheer will and determination. “Today, we’re going to focus on something that might give you an edge in the Grand Melee,” Aric began. “It’s a technique that involves channeling mana into your body to enhance your physical abilities—specifically, your speed and strength.”

Lorian frowned slightly. He had always struggled with magic, never quite able to channel mana like his sister. But this wasn’t about conjuring spells or casting light—this was about harnessing whatever power he had within him and using it to his advantage. “How does it work?” he asked, his curiosity piqued.

Aric smiled faintly, sensing Lorian’s eagerness. “It’s a technique I learned during my years in the King’s Army. Many soldiers lacked significant magical prowess, but they found ways to make up for it. By focusing their mana into their muscles and nervous system, they could enhance their physical abilities—make their strikes faster, their movements sharper. It’s not easy, and it requires a lot of focus and control, but with practice, you can make it work.”

Lorian’s eyes narrowed with determination. This was exactly what he needed—a way to level the playing field, to turn his perceived weakness into a strength. “I want to try,” he said firmly.

Aric nodded approvingly. “Good. Let’s start with the basics. Sit down and focus on your breathing. Close your eyes and try to feel the energy within you. It may feel like a warmth or a tingling sensation. Once you find it, try to guide it through your body.”

Lorian did as instructed, sitting cross-legged on the ground with his sword resting across his lap. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, letting the world around him fade away. At first, there was nothing—just the steady rhythm of his breath and the faint rustling of leaves in the breeze. But then, after several minutes, he felt it—a faint warmth in his chest, like an ember glowing deep within him.

“Now, try to channel that energy into your arms,” Aric instructed. “Imagine it flowing down into your hands, into the sword.”

Lorian focused, willing the warmth to move through his body. It was faint, like trying to grasp smoke, but he kept at it, his mind locked onto the task. Slowly, he felt the warmth spread, a small tingling sensation moving down his arms and into his hands. He opened his eyes and stood, lifting the sword with renewed determination.

“Now, strike,” Aric ordered.

Lorian raised the sword and swung it down with all his might, aiming for the wooden training post in front of him. The blade struck with a solid thunk, and to his surprise, the impact felt different—stronger, more forceful. The wood splintered slightly, a small but noticeable improvement from his usual strikes.

Aric’s smile widened slightly. “Not bad for a first attempt. You’ve got the right idea, but it’ll take time to perfect. The more you practice, the more natural it will become.”

Lorian nodded, a spark of satisfaction igniting within him. He wasn’t doing this for his father, or for anyone else. This was about him—proving to himself that he was capable, that he could rise above the limitations others had placed on him.

He raised the sword again, his eyes narrowing with focus. “Let’s go again.”

Aric stepped back, giving Lorian the space he needed. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Lorian raised his sword again, the weight of it feeling different in his hands now that he was starting to channel his mana. The focus required was intense, but with each strike, he felt himself getting a little better, a little more in control. He swung the blade down again, the impact sharper than before, sending small splinters of wood flying from the training post.

Despite the improvement, Lorian couldn’t help the frustration bubbling up inside him. He paused, lowering his sword slightly as he glanced at the training post, which, despite his efforts, still stood largely intact. “I see how this could be useful,” he muttered, his tone laced with skepticism, “but in reality, how good can it be against someone in armor? I can barely cut through this wooden post—what difference will a slightly sharper blade make in a real fight?”

To Lorian’s surprise, Aric threw his head back and laughed—a deep, hearty laugh that echoed across the training grounds. It wasn’t a mocking laugh, but rather one of genuine amusement, as if Lorian had just told the most entertaining joke.

Lorian blinked, taken aback by Aric’s reaction. He hadn’t expected laughter—perhaps a reprimand or a stern correction, but not this. His grip tightened on his sword, a mix of confusion and irritation flickering across his face. “What’s so funny?”

Aric shook his head, his laughter subsiding into a chuckle as he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “Oh, Lorian,” he said, still smiling. “You’re thinking too small. You’re worried about whether this technique can help you cut through armor, when you haven’t even begun to understand its true potential.”

Lorian frowned, unsure whether to feel insulted or intrigued. “And what potential is that?”

Aric’s smile widened, and he motioned for Lorian to follow him. “Let me show you.”

Lorian, still somewhat puzzled by Aric’s reaction, followed the captain as he walked across the training field to a large boulder that sat near the edge of the courtyard. The boulder had always been there, more of a decorative fixture than anything else. Lorian couldn’t imagine what Aric intended to do with it, but his curiosity was piqued despite his lingering doubts.

Aric stopped in front of the boulder and turned to face Lorian, his expression now serious. “What I’m about to show you is the result of years of practice and control. This technique isn’t just about making your sword a little sharper. It’s about fundamentally changing how you fight—how you move, how you strike, how you defend yourself.”

Lorian watched, his skepticism slowly giving way to curiosity. “But how?”

Aric took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment as he focused inward. Then, without warning, he opened his eyes and let out a sharp exhale. The air around him seemed to pulse as he channeled his mana, his aura briefly flickering to life. Lorian could feel the energy radiating from him, a concentrated force that was almost tangible.

In one swift motion, Aric drew back his fist and, with a shout, drove it forward into the side of the boulder. The impact was explosive—there was a sharp crack, followed by the sound of stone splintering. Lorian’s eyes widened in shock as the boulder split cleanly in two, each half toppling to the ground with a heavy thud.

Dust and small debris scattered across the courtyard as the echoes of the impact faded away. Aric stood there, his fist still outstretched, the remnants of mana energy dissipating from around him. He slowly lowered his hand, turning back to Lorian with a calm, measured expression, as if what he’d just done was an everyday occurrence.

Lorian stared at the broken boulder, his mouth slightly agape as he tried to process what he had just witnessed. “You… you did that with just your fist?” he finally managed to say, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Aric nodded, flexing his hand as if to shake off the remaining energy. “That’s right. The technique I’ve been teaching you isn’t just limited to your swordplay. By channeling your mana into your body, you can enhance your physical strength and speed to the point where you can perform feats like this. It’s about using what you have to its fullest potential.”

Lorian continued to stare at the shattered boulder, his mind racing. The idea that he could harness his limited mana to such an extent, to the point where he could break through stone with his bare hands, was almost unbelievable. But the proof was right in front of him, in the form of the split boulder.

Aric walked back over to Lorian, his gaze steady. “In battle, you won’t always have your weapon. You might be disarmed, or you might be caught off guard. But if you can master this technique, you’ll always have a means to fight back—to protect yourself, no matter the circumstances.”

Lorian finally tore his eyes away from the boulder to look at Aric, his earlier skepticism completely gone. “I… I had no idea it could be used like that,” he admitted, the awe evident in his voice. “I want to learn it all—not just for the Grand Melee, but for whatever comes after. I want to be able to fight no matter what.”

Aric smiled, a proud glint in his eyes. “Then we’ll start working on it right away. You’ve already got the basics down, and now we’ll focus on refining your control, strengthening your body, and expanding your ability to channel mana.”

Lorian nodded, his determination burning bright. The success he’d had with his sword had given him confidence. How hard could it be to apply the same technique to his fists? He followed Aric back to the wooden post, where he’d unleashed his frustrations the night before, ready to prove himself.

As they reached the post, Aric gestured toward it with a knowing smile. “Looks like you’ve got some unfinished business here, Lorian. Think you’re ready to settle the score from last night?”

Lorian chuckled lightly, though his smile wavered as he recalled the raw emotions he’d poured into the post just hours ago. “I guess we’ll see,” he replied, trying to mask the nervousness creeping in.

He positioned himself in front of the post, taking a deep breath as he closed his eyes to center himself. Just as he had with his sword, he focused on the warmth within him, channeling it down his arms and into his fists. He felt confident—he’d already succeeded with the sword, so this shouldn’t be much different.

He drew back his fist and swung it forward, expecting to feel the satisfying surge of power as his knuckles connected with the wood. But instead, pain shot through his hand as he struck the post, the impact jarring his arm. The crack in the wood barely widened, and Lorian winced, shaking his hand to ease the sting.

Aric’s smile didn’t falter, but he raised an eyebrow. “Not quite the result you were expecting, huh?”

Lorian frowned, a mix of confusion and frustration bubbling up inside him. He had been so sure that he’d nail it on the first try. “I don’t get it. I did everything the same as with my sword… why didn’t it work?”

Aric chuckled softly, placing a hand on Lorian’s shoulder. “You’re trying too hard to force it,” he explained. “The sword came more naturally because it’s familiar to you—you’ve spent years mastering it. But channeling mana through your body, especially into your fists, is a different beast altogether. It’s about more than just strength; it requires control and a different kind of focus.”

Lorian’s brow furrowed as he flexed his fingers, the sting in his knuckles still fresh. “It feels like the energy is slipping away, like I can’t keep it steady.”

Aric nodded, his expression understanding. “That’s because it takes time to learn how to control it properly. You’re used to directing your energy outward through your sword, but now you’re asking your body to channel and contain that power directly. It’s not easy, but it’s worth it.” He pointed over to the shattered boulder nearby. “Remember, the payoff can be immense.”

Lorian glanced at the boulder, the memory of Aric’s earlier demonstration still fresh in his mind. The idea of harnessing that kind of power was tempting, but the reality of his struggle was disheartening. He took another deep breath, trying to push aside his frustration. “Okay, let’s try again.”

Aric stepped back, giving him space. “This time, focus on guiding the energy, not just releasing it. Think of it like controlling a river—you don’t want it to burst its banks, but you also don’t want it to dry up. Keep it steady, and let it flow naturally.”

Lorian nodded, closing his eyes again to center himself. He imagined the mana flowing through his body, concentrating it into his fists. He took his time, focusing on maintaining a steady flow of energy, visualizing it as a stream that needed to be guided, not forced.

When he swung his fist this time, the impact felt stronger, but it still wasn’t what he had hoped for. The crack in the wood deepened slightly, but the pain in his knuckles persisted, reminding him that he was still far from mastering the technique.

Aric observed quietly, then spoke up with encouragement. “Better. You’re getting the hang of it. This isn’t something you’ll master in a day, Lorian. It’s a skill that requires patience and practice. Don’t get discouraged if it doesn’t come immediately.”

Lorian exhaled slowly, his determination rekindled despite the struggle. He wasn’t used to failing at something he put his mind to, but he could see the potential in what Aric was teaching him. “Let’s go again,” he said, his voice steady.

Aric smiled, nodding his approval. “That’s the spirit. Remember, it’s not just about hitting harder—it’s about controlling the power. The more you practice, the more natural it will feel.”

The sun climbed higher in the sky as Lorian continued to practice, each attempt bringing small improvements. His hands throbbed with each impact, but he pushed through the discomfort, determined to see progress. The crack in the wooden post grew wider, little by little, and though the process was slow, Lorian knew he was moving in the right direction.

However, as the morning wore on, Lorian began to feel the toll on his body. His strikes became less precise, and the flow of mana he had been so focused on began to wane, flickering like a candle in the wind. He gritted his teeth and tried to push through, but his arms grew heavy, and the mana within him seemed to dry up completely. With one final, half-hearted strike, he slumped back, breathing heavily.

Aric, who had been watching from a short distance, strolled over with an amused expression. “Running on fumes, are we?” he remarked, noticing the way Lorian was cradling his aching hands. “Looks like you’ve hit empty. No shame in it—happens to the best of us.”

Lorian nodded, wiping the sweat from his brow. “I didn’t think I’d run out so quickly,” he admitted, frustration coloring his voice.

Aric gave a sympathetic nod. “Mana’s tricky that way. It’s easy to burn through it when you’re pushing yourself. But lucky for you, I’ve got a little trick up my sleeve that might help you bounce back a bit quicker. Picked it up from a mage who swore by it—said it was his secret to staying sharp, even after a long day of spell-slinging.”

Lorian raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. “A trick? From a mage?”

Aric chuckled. “Yeah, something like that. It’s a form of meditation that helps you recover your mana faster, and it gives your mind a break too. Trust me, it’s better than passing out on the ground from exhaustion.”

Lorian couldn’t help but smile at the image. “Alright, I’m game. What do I need to do?”

Aric motioned for Lorian to sit down on the ground. “Find a comfortable spot, and close your eyes. Now, this isn’t just about sitting still and breathing. It’s about connecting with your mana in a way you probably haven’t before. Start with your breathing—slow and steady. Inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth. Let your body relax with each breath.”

Lorian settled onto the ground and closed his eyes, doing his best to follow Aric’s instructions. He took a deep breath in, then slowly exhaled, trying to clear his mind. But as he did, his thoughts kept drifting—to the training, to the wooden post, to the soreness in his arms.

“Keep your focus on your breathing,” Aric continued, his voice calm and steady. “Now, as you breathe, I want you to picture the mana around you, like a mist or a stream of energy. It’s all around us, all the time—you just need to tune into it. Imagine drawing that energy into yourself with each breath, filling up the reserves you’ve used.”

Lorian tried to follow along, but it was harder than it sounded. His thoughts kept intruding, making it difficult to focus on the mental image of mana. He could see flashes of light in his mind’s eye, feel the faintest tingling in his chest, but every time he thought he was close to grasping it, the sensation slipped away.

“Don’t force it,” Aric advised, sensing Lorian’s struggle. “Let it come naturally. The more you try to grab onto it, the more it’ll slip through your fingers. Just relax and let it flow.”

Lorian nodded, though frustration was beginning to bubble up. He tried again, focusing on his breath, imagining the mana as a gentle stream flowing toward him. Slowly, gradually, he began to feel it—a faint warmth in his core, like a tiny ember being fanned back to life. But it was elusive, disappearing as soon as he tried to focus on it.

For a moment, he considered giving up, thinking it might just be beyond him. But then, he took a deep breath and cleared his mind again, letting go of the frustration. He pictured the stream once more, but this time, he didn’t try to control it. He just let it flow naturally, drawing it in with each breath.

Suddenly, something clicked. The warmth in his core began to grow stronger, spreading through his body like a slow-burning fire. It wasn’t just warmth—it was energy, pure and vibrant, filling the void left by his earlier exertion. Lorian’s eyes flew open, the sensation catching him off guard. It was as if he had discovered a new sense, something he hadn’t even known was there.

“Whoa,” he breathed, a mixture of surprise and awe in his voice. “I… I can feel it. The mana… it’s coming back.”

Aric grinned, clearly pleased with Lorian’s progress. “Told you it was worth learning. You’ve just tapped into a whole new level of awareness, Lorian. Keep practicing, and that connection will only get stronger. It’ll become second nature to you.”

Lorian nodded, still reeling from the experience. The sense of discovery was exhilarating, like he had unlocked a door to a part of himself he hadn’t known existed. He could feel the mana replenishing, his strength slowly returning, and with it, a new sense of confidence.

“That actually worked,” Lorian said, still in awe. “It’s like… I’ve found a part of myself I didn’t know was there.”

Aric’s grin widened. “That’s the idea. And that’s just the beginning. The more you practice, the more attuned you’ll become to your own mana. It’s not just about power; it’s about control, about knowing yourself. And trust me, that kind of knowledge is invaluable.”

Lorian’s thoughts lingered on the mention of the mage. “So, this mage… was he part of the King’s Army too?”

Aric’s grin turned a bit more mischievous, though he kept his tone light. “He was. The King’s Army has all sorts—people who know things, tricks of the trade you won’t find anywhere else. You end up picking up a lot just by being around them.”

Lorian didn’t say anything, but he filed the information away, his curiosity piqued. The King’s Army sounded like a place where one could learn a great deal—about fighting, about magic, and about oneself. But for now, he focused on the task at hand.

“Well, if that’s what they’re teaching over there, it’s good to know I’m getting a head start,” Lorian said with a small smile.

Aric laughed, clapping him on the back. “That’s the spirit. Now, let’s see if you can put that newfound energy to use. This post isn’t going to crack itself.”

With a renewed sense of determination, Lorian turned back to the wooden post, ready to apply everything he had learned. He adjusted his stance, took a deep breath, and focused on channeling his mana just as Aric had taught him. His fist tightened, and he felt the familiar warmth of mana surging through his body, concentrating in his arm.

He struck the post, feeling a slight improvement from his previous attempts. The impact was stronger, and though it wasn’t enough to splinter the wood, it was a small victory. Lorian allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction before resetting his stance and striking again. And again.

Aric watched him for a few more moments, a satisfied smile on his face. “Keep at it, Lorian,” he encouraged. “It’s not about breaking the post today—it’s about learning control, refining your technique. The power will come with time.”

With that, Aric began to walk away, heading toward the other side of the training field where the soldiers were assembling for their drills. “I’ll be over there if you need me,” he called back, waving casually. “But I’m sure you’ll be fine on your own.”

Lorian nodded, though his focus was already back on the task at hand. He continued to practice, driving his fists into the post with each strike becoming slightly more confident, slightly more controlled. The progress was slow—painfully slow—but he could feel himself getting better, inch by inch.

As the hours passed, Lorian allowed himself brief breaks to drink water and practice the meditation technique Aric had shown him. Each time, he could feel his mana slowly replenishing, his strength returning just enough to continue. The sun climbed higher, then began its descent, the shadows lengthening as the day wore on.

By late afternoon, the training ground was nearly deserted, with most of the soldiers having finished their drills and left for the evening. But Lorian remained, his focus unwavering. He struck the post again and again, the sound of his fists hitting the wood echoing in the empty field.

His progress was evident, though still far from perfect. The cracks in the post had grown wider, and Lorian’s strikes were landing with more precision, more power. He could feel the mana flowing through him more naturally now, his body slowly adapting to the new technique. But the exhaustion was also setting in, his muscles screaming for rest even as his mind pushed him to continue.

He was in the middle of yet another strike when he heard footsteps approaching from behind. Lorian paused, lowering his fist as he turned to see Aric walking toward him, a grin on his face.

“Still at it, I see,” Aric said, his tone light but approving. “You’ve put in a good day’s work, Lorian. But it’s time to call it—dinner’s ready, and you’ve been summoned to the table.”

Lorian wiped the sweat from his brow, shaking his head. “I’m not really hungry,” he replied, his voice laced with fatigue. “I think I’ll just keep going for a little longer.”

Aric raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I figured you’d say that,” he said, reaching behind his back. “Which is why I brought you this.”

With a flourish, Aric produced a small cloth bundle and handed it to Lorian. Inside, Lorian found a selection of bread, cheese, and a small piece of roasted meat—simple fare, but more than enough to satisfy his growing hunger.

Lorian looked up at Aric, surprised. “You… stole food for me?”

Aric chuckled. “Let’s call it an unsanctioned delivery. I know things are tense with your family right now, and the last thing you need is to sit through an awkward dinner with them. I figured you’d appreciate the chance to eat out here and keep your peace.”

A small smile tugged at Lorian’s lips as he accepted the food, grateful for the gesture. “Thanks, Aric. I appreciate it.”

Aric waved off the thanks, his expression turning more serious. “Don’t push yourself too hard, Lorian. You’ve done enough for today. Eat, rest, and let your body recover. The training will still be here tomorrow.”

Lorian nodded, though he couldn’t quite shake the desire to keep going. “I will,” he promised, though there was a note of reluctance in his voice.

Aric gave him a final, approving nod before turning to leave. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he said over his shoulder. “And remember—sometimes the best way to move forward is to give yourself time to rest.”

As Aric walked away, Lorian sat down on the grass, unwrapping the bundle and taking a bite of the bread. The simple meal tasted better than he had expected, and he realized just how hungry he really was. He ate slowly, savoring each bite as he watched the sun dip below the horizon.

With the day’s training behind him, Lorian allowed himself to relax, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle over him like a blanket. He knew Aric was right—he had pushed himself hard today, and his body needed time to recover. But as he sat there, finishing his meal and watching the stars begin to appear in the darkening sky, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment.

For the first time in a long while, Lorian felt like he was on the right path. It wasn’t easy, and it certainly wasn’t quick, but he was moving forward. He was getting stronger. And with each passing day, he was getting closer to becoming the warrior he had always wanted to be.

As the night settled in, Lorian gathered his things and began the walk back to the estate, his body tired but his spirit renewed. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new opportunities to grow. And he was ready for whatever came next.