Forged By Falcrest

They were walking up the snow-covered cobblestone road, the sound of their boots crunching against the icy surface the only noise between them. The cold wind bit at Atlas's cheeks, but the growing weight in his chest was far worse than the chill in the air.

As great as it was to have been healed, to have unlocked his core, he couldn't shake the gnawing guilt that twisted his stomach. Ren's face flashed in his mind—pale, still, lifeless. He hadn't seen or heard anything about him since the attack, and the silence was becoming unbearable.

He glanced at the stoic figure walking ahead of him. Lucas hadn't said much since they'd left, but Atlas couldn't hold it in anymore. The question burned on his tongue, demanding an answer.

"What happened when I was found?" His voice broke the stillness, raw with worry. "Was there another boy there?"

Lucas paused mid-step, just briefly, before continuing his steady pace. "Besides you," he said, his tone even and measured, "there was one other survivor. But he's in critical condition."

The words hit Atlas like a punch to the gut. He didn't know whether to sigh in relief or collapse where he stood. A weight lifted, knowing Ren was alive, but it was quickly replaced by a suffocating sense of failure.

'I was supposed to protect him.'

His thoughts spiraled. The image of Ren lying there, unmoving and surrounded by chaos, replayed in his mind. At the time, he had thought the worst, had feared the boy was already gone.

"I have to see him now!" Atlas demanded, his voice louder, more desperate. "I need to make sure he's okay."

Lucas didn't stop walking, didn't even turn his head. His response came quickly, flat and resolute. "I'm afraid that's not possible."

The finality in Lucas's tone left no room for argument, but Atlas's fists clenched at his sides, frustration bubbling under his skin. The cold air felt heavier now, biting deeper as his thoughts churned.

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to take a breath, but the guilt stayed, gnawing at him.

"Why can't I see him? He needs me there," Atlas said, his voice rising with frustration.

Lucas didn't even glance back. "He doesn't need you, and he will be fine. His matters are of no concern to you. You need to focus on entering the academy. The new year has just started, so you're lucky they'll even squeeze you in."

Atlas's excitement about the academy, something he had dreamed of for years, felt muted, buried under the weight of worry for Ren. His friend was out there somewhere, hurt, possibly worse, and there was nothing he could do. The thought gnawed at him like a splinter he couldn't reach.

Lucas must have sensed his mood. "He will meet you in the academy next year."

Atlas froze mid-step, his mind racing as he tried to process the words. He quickly jogged to catch up to Lucas. "What do you mean? Meet me next year? How?"

Lucas let out a small sigh, as though the answer was obvious. "The boy awakened his core as well," he said simply. "But he's in no condition to start this year."

The tension in Atlas's chest eased, his breath coming out in a long exhale. Not only had Ren survived, but he had awakened his core too. Relief flooded through him, warming him against the cold.

A small smile crept onto his face. For the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to feel hopeful. They had both made it out of that hell, and while it wasn't perfect, it was better than he could have dared to imagine.

The academy gates that Atlas had stared at throughout his childhood loomed before him. They were massive, constructed from a dark metal that gleamed in the sunlight, standing as a formidable barrier to the world within. The intricate design of the gates allowed no clear view of what lay beyond, blocking his attempts to catch a glimpse of the training grounds he had imagined so vividly.

But that didn't stop his mind from racing. He had spent countless nights dreaming of this moment, filling the unknown with stories and fantasies. He could almost hear Granny Lucy's voice again, telling the younger boys her bedtime tales. Tales of great heroes who rose from nothing, wielding all four elements in harmony to defend their nation and protect the weak.

Those stories had lit a fire inside him. From the first time he heard them, he had never looked back. His one goal, his only dream, was to become a Blade. To be one of those heroes. And now, he stood at the threshold of that dream.

He wouldn't back down. Not now. Not ever.

As they approached the gates, Atlas's steps quickened. His breath hung in the air as he took in every detail, from the imposing metalwork to the faint hum of activity beyond. He was so lost in his thoughts that he almost didn't notice when Lucas stopped to speak with the guard stationed by the entrance.

The man was enormous, towering over both of them. His broad shoulders seemed capable of bearing the weight of the entire gate, and the massive axe strapped to his back only added to his intimidating presence. His sharp eyes flicked toward Atlas, then back to Lucas as they exchanged a few low words.

Lucas's tone was even, his words too quiet for Atlas to catch. Whatever he said, the guard responded with a short nod before turning to Atlas. His gaze lingered for a moment, assessing, before he stepped aside and unlocked the gate.

The heavy doors groaned as they swung open, revealing the path ahead.

This was it. The moment Atlas had waited for all his life. The barrier between his dreams and reality had finally opened. He swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest as he stepped forward.

He was about to step into the world he had only ever imagined. A world of heroes, of Blades, of opportunity.

***

Atlas walked through the open gates, Lucas still leading him.

As he passed the threshold, he let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. His eyes swept over the cobbled path ahead, framed on either side by rolling, snow-covered fields. The jagged lines of the mountains in the distance seemed to cut into the pale sky, their peaks dusted white.

"Let's keep moving," Lucas said, his voice as steady as ever.

Atlas nodded, quickening his pace to match the man's long strides. The cold air nipped at his cheeks, but he barely felt it. His attention was locked ahead, on the towering building in front of them.

He'd seen it many times from behind the gates, but never like this. Never this close. The front doors loomed larger with every step they took. It was real. The dream he had clung to for so long was finally within reach.

His heart began to pound in his chest, quick and loud, his lingering injuries forgotten in the rush of excitement.

They climbed the stone steps, each step echoing faintly in the stillness. Atlas barely registered the weight of his boots on the stone as Lucas reached out and pushed open the massive wooden doors.

The cold vanished the moment they stepped inside, replaced by a comforting warmth that seemed to wrap around him. The heavy doors swung shut behind them with a dull thud.

Atlas lowered his jacket hood, shaking off the light snow that clung to it, and gave his jacket a quick dusting. The warmth of the room was a stark contrast to the chill outside, and for a moment, he simply enjoyed it.

His eyes moved to a large wooden desk in the center of the room. Behind it sat a middle-aged woman, hunched over and scribbling furiously on a stack of papers. She seemed utterly engrossed in her work, her quill moving with quick, precise strokes.

Atlas followed Lucas across the polished stone floor, their footsteps echoing faintly. The man's imposing figure made it easy for Atlas to slip into his shadow unnoticed.

When they reached the desk, the woman still hadn't looked up, her focus unwavering. Lucas tapped his knuckles lightly on the desk and cleared his throat, the sound cutting through the room like a bell.

The woman jumped slightly, her quill scratching an unintended mark across the paper. She looked up, startled, her wide eyes flicking between them.

"Oh my gosh, where did you two come from?" she exclaimed, her voice flustered. "Sorry if I kept you waiting. I didn't hear anyone come in."

Atlas couldn't help but smile at her frantic energy. She looked as though she'd been completely absorbed in her task, and the sudden interruption had thrown her off balance.

"It's no problem, miss," Lucas said, his tone calm and polite. "I'm here to enroll the boy."

The woman's gaze shifted to Atlas, taking him in for a brief moment before she nodded and began rifling through the stack of papers in front of her. "Ah, yes. Here it is," she said, pulling out a sheet and scanning it quickly.

"Atlas," she read aloud, her voice steady now. "Aged twelve, raised in Midtown." She looked up from the paper, her sharp eyes meeting his. "Is that correct?"

Atlas straightened slightly under her scrutiny, nodding. "Yes, ma'am."

She nodded in response. "Okay, I see we still need to test your affinities. That's no problem. Let's get you set up first, and I'll organize the testing room. Follow me if you will."

She stood up, smoothing the creases in her robes before gesturing for them to follow.

Before Atlas could take a step, Lucas cleared his throat, his deep voice cutting through the moment. "Sorry, miss, but this is where I'll part ways. My mission was just to get the boy to the academy."

"Of course. Thank you for your time, Reaver," she replied, giving him a polite nod.

Lucas turned his attention to Atlas, his sharp gaze making the boy straighten instinctively. "Make sure you behave," he said, his tone firm but not unkind. "After the investigation, I've decided to clear your name. You won't like it if I come to regret that decision."

For a brief moment, Atlas could almost feel the power radiating off the man, like the quiet tension of a snow leopard ready to strike. He swallowed hard and nodded weakly. "Yes… Sir."

"And don't call me Sir," Lucas corrected, his tone softening ever so slightly. "I'm Reaver Lucas. But you will learn all about formality's soon enough anyway."

He paused, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as he looked Atlas over. "Oh, right. Almost forgot about this," he said, stepping closer.

Before Atlas could ask what he meant, Lucas reached out and touched the cold metal around his neck. A faint click echoed in the quiet hall as the collar fell into Lucas's hands.

Atlas blinked in surprise. To be honest, he had completely forgotten about the collar aswell. Everything happening around him—the academy, the healers, the excitement of his core awakening—had pushed it to the back of his mind.

But the moment the collar was gone, something inside him shifted. The absence he slowly forgot about was replaced by a sudden rush of warmth and vitality. His mana roared to life, flowing through him like a river unblocked. It was like being whole again, a missing piece finally clicking into place.

He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, his shoulders relaxing as the tension melted away.

Lucas nodded in approval. "Well, I'll see you around, kid," he said, turning to leave without waiting for a reply.

Atlas watched him for a moment, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find the right words. Finally, he called out, "Thanks… Thanks for everything."

Lucas didn't turn around, but Atlas caught the faintest nod as the man disappeared down the hall.

"Well then," the woman said, snapping Atlas out of his thoughts. "Let's carry on, shall we?"