Magic : Unbroken

On the Other Side

Aaron stood at the center of the altar, bathed in radiant light—two distinct colors swirling around him in perfect harmony.

The fire flickered and cracked with raw intensity, while arcs of lightning danced wildly in the air, wrapping him in a storm of elemental energy.

Every slight movement of his hands summoned a reaction—flames trailing like ribbons, lightning responding like a loyal hound.

Aaron's eyes lit up with joy as he watched the spectacle, his heart pounding with triumph.

Gasps erupted from the crowd as all eyes turned to him.

"He awakened… dual elements?"

"Oh my gods!"

"How lucky! May the heavens bless me too!"

Whispers spread like wildfire—some voices filled with admiration, others tinged with envy and bitterness.

Among the stunned onlookers, Leon and Reinhart stared in awe. Their friend's awakening had left them speechless—pride and amazement flashing in their eyes.

But their joy was short-lived. The instructor called the next name, and reality came crashing back.

Tension set in.

Aaron, meanwhile, stepped off the altar, his instructor barely able to contain a wide grin. Beaming with pride, he gestured toward the path leading to the second testing site.

Before heading off, Aaron turned on his heel. With a bright, reassuring smile, he waved at his friends.

"Good luck, both of you. I'll meet you at the next site," he called.

His words, simple as they were, carried warmth and confidence.

Leon and Reinhart, whose nerves had begun to fray, felt their hearts steady once more. Aaron had always been the optimistic one—his belief in them never wavered.

Aaron then made his way toward the second site, blending into the small crowd of other awakened children heading in the same direction.

The first test—the elemental awakening—was complete. The second test awaited.

Though optional, only a rare few chose to forgo it. Nearly everyone present was here with one goal: entry into Eryndor Academy.

Back at the awakening grounds, the instructor called the next name.

Reinhart took a deep breath.

"Good luck, Reinhart," Leon said with a grin, trying to lift his friend's spirits.

Reinhart nodded. "You too."

He stepped onto the altar.

The instructor, still riding the high from Aaron's awakening, smiled warmly. "Name?"

"Reinhart."

As reinhart entered the alter with some nervousness.

Mana surged through the altar in response, forming a dense zone of magical energy.

Reinhart felt a jolt deep in his core. His vision blurred, filled with a vivid storm of azure flame—bright, unnatural, and powerful.

Suddenly, heat exploded around him.

Students near the altar instinctively stepped back as the area flared with intense heat.

Azure flames began to crackle to life around Reinhart, coating the air with brilliant, searing blue fire.

A murmur spread through the crowd.

Those with knowledge of magic knew what these flames meant—there was only one family in the Empire known for producing mages with mutated fire: flames that burned blue and fierce.

Reinhart stood still, his gaze locked on his hands.

The flames responded to every twitch of his fingers—graceful, deadly, alive.

His heart raced as he watched in fascination, overwhelmed with excitement.

The world fell away as he danced with the azure fire, unaware of the growing attention around him.

The instructor's eyes nearly popped out of his sockets when the second rare elemental affinity burst into view.

Blue fire.

Azure. Pure. Unmistakable.

His hands trembled slightly as he clenched his clipboard, barely able to suppress the childlike urge to jump up and down in joy.

Two exceptional awakenings in one ceremony—what were the odds?

As Reinhart calmly stepped down from the altar, still bathed in the remnants of the azure flames, the instructor finally composed himself—though the corners of his mouth still twitched with restrained excitement.

He cleared his throat and walked over to the boy.

"Reinhart, right?" he asked with a forced casual tone.

"Don't you have a surname?"

Reinhart blinked. His eyes wide and honest. "No, sir. I don't have any surname."

The instructor stiffened.

Huh?

His mind reeled. That fire just now... it was too distinct. No ordinary flame, that was for sure.

It had the signature hue and intensity only ever associated with one bloodline—the Ashenwards. No doubt about it.

Yet the kid just said he didn't have a surname?

The instructor stared at Reinhart like he was a living puzzle.

'This doesn't add up. Could he be… an illegitimate child? Or maybe… no. Don't even think about it.'

He quickly dismissed the idea. Getting involved with noble family matters—

especially one as messy and feared as the Ashenwards—was a good way to wake up without limbs.

"No surname, huh?" he murmured, then shook his head with a laugh that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Well, alright then."

With a nod, he gestured for a student nearby. "Escort him to the second testing site."

Reinhart gave a small bow and followed the student silently.

Meanwhile, deep inside the Grand Chambers of the Academy, where high-ranking officials observed the awakenings in real-time, the air had turned... prickly.

The moment Reinhart's flames had burst forth, a storm of reactions rippled across the room.

Vice Commander Aerydn was the first to speak, because of course he was.

He leaned back in his chair with a smug grin, voice laced with mock sympathy.

"Tsk, tsk… Truly, like father, like son. Count Ashenward, I didn't expect your boy to fool around the same way you used to when you were young."

"…"

Count Ashenward closed his eyes as the words pierced his soul.

It wasn't the accusation that hurt—it was the truth in it.

But that wasn't what made him sweat. No. What truly had him soaked in anxiety was the man sitting on the other end of the room.

The one calmly sipping his tea, watching everything unfold with serene silence.

The Tea Maniac.

Count Ashenward's heart skipped a beat every time the teacup touched the saucer. That sound alone was a countdown to doom.

'Please just finish your tea and say nothing,' he begged mentally.

'Ignore it. You didn't see anything. Forget it even happened—'

The silence stretched. He dared not breathe too loud.

'When I get home, I swear, that bastard child is getting locked in a room without windows. No fire, no food, no freedom. He's ruined my image even in the high circle!'

He tried to shift the mood, offered a weak laugh, even faked a cough—anything to steer the conversation elsewhere.

But then… it came.

Clink.

The teacup met the saucer with a delicate yet decisive sound.

His stomach dropped.

No. Not now. Anyone but him...

A low, velvety voice followed. Calm and terrifying.

"Well now… how interesting…"