Chapter 9– The Price of Ambition
The training yard was empty except for Luke. The morning mist swirled like lazy spirits around the stone tiles as he worked, drawing the strange sigils of his Agust system into the dirt.
Each stroke shimmered faintly, reacting to his intent.
His mind, however, was elsewhere.
"Every step toward power… is a step toward the eyes of others," Luke thought. "And eyes can be heavier than chains."
---
From behind him, his half-brother Renald's voice broke the silence.
"Still playing with your little symbols? The rest of us are practicing real magic."
Luke didn't turn. "Playing? No. I'm building. The difference is simple — play wastes time, building creates worlds."
Renald scoffed. "And what world will you create with no mana?"
Luke smiled faintly.
> "The same world that all kings, generals, and madmen dream of… one where I'm no longer bound by what others say I can't do."
---
He pressed his palm against the final sigil, and a faint hum rippled through the ground.
Renald stepped back instinctively. "What is that?"
Luke looked up at him with calm eyes.
> "Power is a strange thing, Renald. Give it attention… and it will grow. Give it too much attention… and danger will follow. That's why I'll never show everything I have. Not yet."
---
The sigil dissolved into dust, as if it had never existed.
Luke picked up his cloak, brushing dirt from his hands. His heart was calm, but his mind was sharp.
"If I reveal my creation too soon, the hunters will smell blood before I can even wield the blade."
---
That night, alone in his room, he whispered to himself:
> "Agust is not just magic… it's my life's second chance. And I won't waste it trying to prove myself to people who can't see beyond their own light."
The candlelight flickered, as if agreeing with his vow.