The training yard had settled into a rhythm that felt almost familiar now.
Steel rang against padded posts. Footwork scraped softly over frost-dusted stone. Breath moved in steady cycles, no longer frantic, no longer fighting for space in Lux's chest.
Caelis stood near the edge of the yard, arms folded, watching without interrupting.
He had noticed the change days ago.
Lux moved differently now. Not just faster—though he was—but with intent. His circulation no longer lagged behind his motion. Hlyr flowed through his body with far less delay, threading itself through muscle and tendon almost as soon as he asked for it. Still imperfect, still rough at the edges compared to seasoned wielders, but undeniably sharper than it had been even two weeks prior. It was too sharp for coincidence.
Caelis exhaled quietly through his nose.
Two weeks since Lux returned to the estate with a different weight behind his eyes.
His growth had always been… unusual. But now it was accelerating again. Circulation times shortened. Augmentation stabilized faster. His stances corrected themselves mid-motion instead of collapsing. Even his body had begun to change—shoulders broadening slightly, posture straighter, limbs carrying a density that hadn't been there before. He was still a child but he now had a refined body. A trained body, finally catching up to its potential.
At this rate—
Caelis stopped himself before finishing the thought.
Predictions had a habit of becoming expectations.
"Time," he called out.
Lux halted mid-sequence, boots scraping as he slid back a step. He bent forward briefly, hands braced on his knees, then straightened and reached for the metal water bottle resting near the bench. He took a long drink, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve.
"Already?" Lux asked between breaths. "Felt like I just started."
Caelis's brow twitched.
"If you're implying the training is insufficient," he said evenly, "I can correct that immediately."
Lux froze.
The bottle lowered an inch.
"N—no. I mean—" He cleared his throat. "This is fine. More than fine. Very… effective."
"Good," Caelis replied. "I'd hate to disappoint."
Lux felt a very real chill crawl up his spine and nodded quickly, capping the bottle.
They stood in silence for a moment, the cold air settling between them.
Then Caelis spoke again, more casually.
"You've been pushing harder since you returned."
Lux blinked, then shrugged. "I guess."
"I didn't ask before," Caelis continued. "It wasn't my concern. But at this point it's noticeable."
He stared at the stone floor, at the faint scuffs left behind by years or maybe even centuries of training. He hadn't realized how much he'd been carrying until someone named it out loud.
"You've been training harder."
He had.
Not because he was ordered to. Not because he was afraid of failing.
Because something inside him wouldn't let him stop.
His thoughts drifted—not backward all at once, but in fragments. The Outer Sectors. Cold nights. The constant calculation of risk. When to run. When to hide. When to give up something small to avoid losing something bigger.
Survival had been his only metric for so long that he hadn't realized how narrow it was.
Even after being brought to the estate, that hadn't changed. The surroundings were different, but the mindset was the same. Train. Learn. Endure. Do what's necessary so you don't fall behind. Do what's necessary to survive.
He had told himself that was enough.
But after the duel—after standing across from someone his age who wasn't just stronger, but certain—something had cracked open.
It wasn't the loss itself that lingered.
It was the feeling during the fight. That moment when his body responded the way he wanted it to. When Hlyr moved cleanly, when his thoughts sharpened, when he wanted more instead of just needing to last.
For the first time, strength hadn't felt like a shield.
It had felt like possibility.
Lux realized then how small his world had been, even here. How everything he'd done up to that point in life was really just for his and his brothers survival. Nothing more and nothing less.
Varik's and Gavin's faces surfaced in his mind.
He really thought about it. About time them.
They hadn't died so he could scrape by.
They hadn't died so he could just endure.
His chest tightened.
I owe them more than survival.
That thought rooted itself deep, painful and steady.
He didn't want to just exist in the space Vincent had forcefully carved out for him. He didn't want to be shaped solely by the expectations of people who didn't truly see him as a person.
He wanted to choose something.
To chase something.
To stand beside people without feeling like he was pretending to belong. To make new bonds with people he cared about. To truly live. To live without regrets. To live without fear.
He may not have wanted to be brought here but he decided to make the best of the situation. They plan to use him to achieve their goals, so he will do the same.
Lux exhaled slowly, steadying himself, and finally looked up. His eyes were calm but turbulent.
"I… realized I didn't really have a goal before," he said. His voice was quiet, but it didn't waver. "I was just doing what I needed to do."
Caelis waited.
"Now," Lux continued, "I know what I'm aiming for."
He hesitated, then added, "I have someone to catch up to. And I have somewhere I want to reach."
Caelis studied him. "Is that so?"
Lux nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. There was no bitterness there. No resentment.
"And to achieve both of those goals I realized I need strength, that I can't just be idle anymore. Not just because it's what's required of me but because it's what I want ."
Resolve flowed off Lux.
Caelis was expecting something but this was not it. He's no longer the timid boy he met weeks ago. While he may look the same he has a different aura to him.
He has determination.
Caelis smiled, "Well then, who is this person you want to catch up to?"
Lux said his name and said it with pride.
"Dominic Fulgur, my rival."
Caelis blinked.
Just once—but it was enough.
For a brief moment, the name seemed to catch him off guard. Then, unexpectedly, he let out a quiet chuckle. It wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic. But it was unmistakable.
Lux froze.
He turned slowly, staring at Caelis like he'd just seen snow fall upward.
Caelis noticed immediately. "What?"
"I—" Lux hesitated. "I didn't think you… laughed."
That earned him another breath of amusement, this time accompanied by the faintest curve at the corner of Caelis's mouth.
"Hm," Caelis said. "I suppose I don't do it often."
Lux shook his head slightly, still processing it.
Caelis folded his arms and looked back toward the training floor. "Dominic Fulgur," he repeated. "Yes. Truly… that makes perfect sense."
Lux frowned. "It does?"
"Very much so," Caelis replied. "Though I'll be honest—you've chosen a steep mountain to climb."
Lux raised an eyebrow. "I know he's considered extraordinary. Even among other talents our age."
Caelis lifted a hand, cutting him off gently. "No. That's not quite accurate."
Lux paused.
"He isn't just talented," Caelis said. "He's beyond that."
He turned fully toward Lux now, his expression no longer amused, but thoughtful. Not stern—measured.
"To put it into perspective," Caelis continued, "you remember the ranks I taught you."
"Yes," Lux said quickly. "Spark, Ember, Blaze, Radiant, Luminous, Trailblazer, and—"
"Avant Garde," Caelis finished. "Good."
He nodded once, then went on. "There's another term for that sequence. Not one you'll hear often anymore. Most people find it… uncomfortable."
Lux tilted his head. "What term?"
Caelis hesitated, just briefly, as if weighing whether Lux was ready to hear it.
"It's called the Road to Ascension," he said. "Or more precisely—the Road to Apotheosis."
Lux's brow furrowed. "Apo… what?"
"Apotheosis," Caelis repeated calmly. "It means ascension to godhood."
Lux stared at him.
"…Godhood?" he echoed.
Caelis didn't react to the disbelief in his voice. He continued as if explaining something mundane.
"In the human sense," he clarified. "Not divinity as the old myths imagined it. But authority. Influence. Command."
He gestured vaguely, as if indicating the space around them. "Hlyr is a naturally occurring force. It exists regardless of whether humans acknowledge it. To manipulate it is one thing. To command it—reshape it—bend it to will… that requires something more."
Lux listened, unease creeping into his chest.
"With each rank," Caelis said, "a Pathfinder's influence on the world increases. Not metaphorically. Literally. Their presence alone begins to affect their surroundings. Temperature. Pressure. Stability. Even probability, in some cases."
Lux swallowed. "That still doesn't sound like being a god."
Caelis glanced at him. "If a being can bend the rules of the world simply by existing within it, what would you call that?"
Lux opened his mouth, then closed it again.
Caelis continued. "The ranks aren't arbitrary milestones. They're thresholds. Each one strips away a limitation. By the time someone reaches the rank of Trailblazer… they are no longer bound by human constraints in any meaningful sense."
Lux's eyes widened. "You mean… they're not human anymore?"
"They're still human," Caelis said. "They just don't live by human rules."
He paused, letting that sink in.
"Now imagine what a person with the rank of Avante Garde is capable of."
Lux didn't even want to think about it.
Carlos then continued, "In all of human history there have been less than one hundred Trailblazers and…" He paused "…Only 10 Avante Gardes."
Lux felt his pulse quicken.
"And long before someone reaches that rank," Caelis said, "there are signs. Rare ones. Talents so pronounced, so consistent, that those in power take notice early. Children whose growth curves don't align with normal expectations."
Caelis met Lux's gaze.
"Dominic Fulgur is one of those candidates."
The words landed heavier than Lux expected.
His mind reeled—not because Dominic was strong, but because of what that strength meant. The confidence. The certainty. The way he moved like the world would adjust if he asked it to.
Lux felt a chill run through him.
He wasn't just sparring with a gifted noble.
He wasn't just rivaling an academy prodigy.
He had, somehow, ended up standing opposite someone the world itself was watching.
"…So," Lux said quietly, "you're saying he might become…"
"A being humanity would call a god," Caelis finished.
Lux exhaled slowly, trying to steady himself.
A laugh almost escaped him—half disbelief, half shock.
"That's…" He shook his head. "That's insane."
Caelis studied him closely. "Are you afraid?"
Lux thought about it.
He thought about the duel. The exhilaration. The gap between them—and how badly he wanted to close it.
"…No," he said honestly. "I think I'm more motivated now."
Caelis's lips curved again, faint but unmistakable.
"Good," he said. "Because if you intend to walk alongside someone like that—even chase them—then mediocrity will crush you long before he does."
Lux straightened, resolve hardening in his chest.
"I don't plan on being mediocre," he said.
Caelis nodded once. "I didn't think you would."