The First Step

Tell me, have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror and felt insignificant? Like no matter what you did or how much you worked for something, it was never enough? Every day I would wake up feeling disappointed in myself. It felt like I wasn't reaching my true potential. Due to my royal family lineage, I've always had high expectations placed on me, ever since the day of my birth. And because of that, every day became another grim reminder that I just wasn't good enough. I would come to envy others for their great talents, and not once did I stop to consider that what I had was greater than anything I could've ever imagined, it was a gift. I'm telling you this because, in order to fully understand this story, I must first take you back to the beginning, where everything first began. This is not meant to be a light-hearted tale, but the tale of the legacy I wish I had upheld. This is the story of the long lost world known as Neptar.

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I had awoken from my slumber face down on the floor and covered in sweat; I had gotten another nightmare. Recently, they'd been getting more common, and frankly, I was beginning to get worried.

As I began to stand up and change out of my sweaty clothes, I glanced over to find one of my books had been knocked down from the shelf next to my bed.

My room was fairly small and ordinary, more so than you'd expect considering my status as a prince anyways. I had a black rug, a small black bed, and a long black shelf full of books. You can probably start to see a pattern here.

I picked the book up, flipped to a random page, and began to read. "Advanced Techniques," It was a combat book that had techniques for all skill levels, and I just so happened to flip to a page for more advanced users.

The first technique on the page was a physical-based attack. My planet, Neptar, is the planet of fire; what this means is that we neptarians are born with the ability to project and control flames. We are all taught how to control our power as children, but we don't all learn to harness its maximum potential. Similar to a muscle, our power grows stronger the more we use it. However, if we use it too much, we begin to tire out, so it's more of a high-risk, high-reward type of ability.

"Step one: ignite a small flame. Step two: engulf your fist in the flame. As I continued to read the page, I became ecstatic. It's quite rare to come across a physical-based flame attack; most common techniques require the use of flame projection, which I was really bad at.

"Step three: release all pent-up energy at the exact moment of contact during the punch."

"Seems simple enough," I said to myself.

As I ignited a small flame, I made a fist but found myself struggling to keep the flame still. It takes an extreme amount of focus to keep a flame from becoming unstable. Nevertheless, I tried my best to throw the punch even with the sporadic flame, but as I did, I accidentally let go of the flame too early, and let's say the result was... less than desirable, to put it mildly. I had blown a huge hole in my wall, and shortly after, I heard a knock at the door.

"Excuse me, Prince Mistery. Are you alright in there?" I heard one of the castle servants call out to me.

I opened the door slightly, just enough for her to see me but not so much as to let her see the mess behind me.

"Oh, hello Lydia," I attempted to mask the look of worry on my face.

Lydia was a resident of the castle. She was a fair maiden, slightly taller and older than I was; she had bright orange hair and crimson-red eyes. From the moment I was taken under my grandfather's care, Lydia had been assigned as my personal servant, so naturally, she had become almost like a mother figure to me. Orange hair is a pretty rare commodity here on Neptar. Legends say that it is passed down directly from our ancestors.

"Is everything alright in there?" "I heard a loud crash," she attempted to peer into my room.

"I'm alright. I just knocked some stuff over, that's all," I chuckled nervously as I casually blocked her view. I couldn't help but notice that she didn't seem to believe me all too much.

"Sure..." she replied to me with a smug look on her face. "Anyway, King Zant would like to speak to you."

"This early in the morning?" I let out a groan.

"Umm, sir. It's already past noon," she sighed with a disapproving look on her face.

I remained silent in embarrassment.

"Please be ready soon," she said before she began to close the door, but just as I was about to turn around, she opened the door once again.

"You should also wash your face," she whispered. "You've got a bit of ash all over it," she jokingly teased.

I became flustered and proceeded to slam the door on her, and once I did, I scurried to try to find some loose paper around my room in order to find a way to cover the huge hole I had just made.

A few minutes later, I began hearing another knock, and I began to panic. I had only managed to gather enough paper to cover half of the wall.

"Your grandfather is insisting that you come upstairs right away," I heard Lydia call out once again.

"I'll be right there!" I shouted at her, dropping all of my tools in the process.

I quickly snuck out of my room before anyone could take a look inside, and I began to head up the stairs of the dusty cellar, which was located right under the royal hall. I then went straight to the throne room.

Every morning was always this hectic mess. I would always be greeted by many of the castle's servants and guests. They'd always refer to me as "Prince" or "Sir" as if I'd somehow earned their respect simply by being born. I had always blamed it on my grandfather. Since he's the king, everyone expects me to be just as great as he is.

My grandfather was a man of great stature. His hair was naturally blonde, but over the years it slowly became a light gray color, and he began to comb it back. Blonde hair is typically more common in other places like the Wind Planet, Arium, or the Lightning Planet, Otoma, but it isn't unheard of for a person to have it here on Neptar. Though he says I got my black hair from my mother, my grandfather also had a fairly long beard and mustache, light blue eyes, and he always wore a red and gold robe. Even with all of that, though, don't let his appearance fool you. Though he may be extremely powerful, nimble, and healthy, he is much older than he looks.

Hello, Mistery, you look well today." He looked up at me as he was signing various documents.

"You wanted to see me?" I helplessly stumbled towards his throne.

"Yes, I wanted to tell you about a new program I signed you up for," he said to me with a menacing look on his face.

"You signed me up?" I asked

"I thought you might enjoy a nice change of scenery," he began to laugh, "you know, to get out there and make some friends." He put his quill down.

I sighed, "What 'program' did you sign me up for?" I began slouching, hoping he'd notice my lack of enthusiasm.

"It's a new training group, led by Captain Strek,"

"The leader of the combat sector?"

"There's quite a lot you could learn from him," he replied. "That man is one of the best knights our kingdom of Torn has to offer."

"You think I need training?" I asked him, "Am I not good enough already?" I began showboating

Unamused, he replied, "You may have improved quite a lot throughout these past few years, however, your skills are still a bit... lacking, to say the least." He was laughing under his breath.

"What do you mean by lacking?" offended, I retorted back at him.

"I mean, you lack refinement, and frankly, you need to learn a bit of restraint every once in a while. We wouldn't want you to blast any holes in a wall, now would we?" It was like this man could read my mind or something. "There is no such thing as being good enough," he began to go on another one of his philosophical rants "Training is something that never ends; we can never truly expect to reach our peak potential. There's always room to grow."

I began to look at him with contempt. "Fine," I sighed, "when does this 'program' begin?"

"It will be starting soon; I suggest you begin heading out now. I believe Strek said something about gathering at the combat field just outside of the kingdom, near The Outskirts," he said to me as he began getting back to work.

"Yeah, yeah," I responded before walking towards the exit.

And, Mistery," he spoke out to me with a glint in his eye, "I expect that wall to be fixed." He burst out into laughter.

The kingdom of Torn was Neptar's royal capital, and because of that, we had a lot of tourists. Though most of them were neptarians of high status. Torn was essentially a place for the rich and powerful.

The place I was heading to, however, was near the edge of town; it was a common gathering place for Torn's main combat force and a very popular market place called The Outskirts. Many of Torn's lower-class residents spent most of their days there, selling and purchasing various goods. Back in the day, I would go there every week and search for any and all combat books, whether they were manuals, guides, or just stories. I loved going to The Outskirts because the people there don't spend hours staring at me in awe; it's actually pretty rare for someone to recognize me.

Noblemen have always treated me very highly, so it's quite nice whenever I have the chance to get away from any of them, and one thing that helped me do so was my extreme obsession with the art of combat. My ultimate goal in life had always been to reach the rank of Royal Knight, the highest rank of power one could achieve. I never stopped to think why becoming a Royal Knight seemed so intriguing to me. I don't know... Maybe it was just a coping mechanism—a way to prove to myself that I wasn't just a useless prince.

As I had arrived at the Outskirts I looked ahead of me to see a small group of people lined up on an open field.

"Mistery!" I heard a man shouting, "You're late, get in line!" It was Captain Strek, and from the looks of it, he seemed pretty angry. And let me just tell you a bit about this man; he was truly a force to be reckoned with.

He was quite a large and burly man; he had a thick brown beard, a bald head, and his right eye had a large scar across it. This man sent chills down your spine just by glaring at you, so you can probably imagine how fast I ran.

There were five other students besides me. They were all extremely high ranking students at the academy, all A-ranked. I had only managed to move up to a C rank during my second year at the academy, and I ended up being stuck there for about five years since. I was way out of my league here.

"Now that everyone has finally arrived, we can begin with our introductions." His stance alone emanated an intimidating presence. "Every single person in this group was specifically chosen by King Zant. He believes that each of you possesses incredible latent potential. This class will help you attain those higher levels of power.

"Would you care to enlighten me on something!" one of the students shouted out right away. Trock, if I remember correctly, was part of a prestigious royal family, which explained his bold nature. He was also a quite tall and burly guy, he had short brown hair, which he always combed back. It's surprising to think that he was around my age just by looking at his height.

"What is it?" the captain had asked, clearly fed up with his demeanor.

"Why am I being grouped up with this bunch of nobodies?" He turned back to look at the rest of us.

A typical attitude for a noble classman.

As soon as he said that, a girl burst out into laughter. "My sincerest apologies; I didn't mean to ruin your chance at glory, o' mighty one," she began to mock him. Riza was a girl of slim build. She had very short brown hair, which was always brushed to one side of her head; her body was covered in markings; and she commonly wore a lot of jewelry.

Oh, you've got something to say to me then?" Trock remarked

"As a matter of fact, I do. Why don't you take a look around before opening your trap?" Riza had replied while pointing directly at me.

The captain regained the attention of the class. "I'm sure you already know Riza, Marz, and Joule since you are all in the same group," he said, turning his attention to me, "the boy wearing black. That's Prince Mistery.

Trock instantly became silent and his ego began to plummet.

"As for the boy wearing the silver armor, he is quite literally the definition of a prodigy. He managed to reach the same level as you, all within a span of two years,," the captain smirked. "So I suggest you check your facts before submitting to your ego next time, Mr. Trock."

The guy he had described was standing right next to me. He was called Blade, and I had known him for quite a few years up until this point. Ever since he transferred into Torn's academy, he had been at the top of his class, and despite being both quite young and a commoner, he managed to become A-ranked within two years.

He was so good, in fact, that he was allowed to skip a whole rank the moment he transferred.

My grandfather had arranged a place for him to stay at the castle. We weren't the best of friends, but as time went on, we kind of got to know each other a bit.

"Now then! Are there any other concerns?" the captain asked the group. Blade then began to look at me as I was about to have a panic attack.

Well, you seem prepared," he said to me jokingly. Blade was slightly taller and older than I was; he had platinum blonde hair and blue eyes, and he was always wearing his signature silver armor with a sword sheath strapped to the left of his waist.

"Give me a break," I said with a nervous laugh. "I just woke up,"

"It's settled then!" the captain shouted out. "For your first test, I need to see where you all stand, so we'll be doing a little sparring session."

"Ah, crap," I uttered under my breath.

"With that being said, the next person you lock eyes with shall be your sparring partner," the captain said to the group.

"What!? Y-you've got to be kidding me!" Unfortunately for me, I was looking directly at Blade as the announcement was made.

The captain then began distributing weapons; he was actually giving out real swords. This man was trying to kill us.

Blade took a long look at every single sword before actually picking one up. "This is terrible craftsmanship," he murmured as he reluctantly picked one out. He could tell you the specifics of a sword, while I hardly knew how to use one.

He swung the sword once so that the tip cut through the grass. "They could've at least balanced the weight a bit more, this is ridiculous," he began to complain. "Anyways, are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," I sighed, casually raising my sword, clearly unenthusiastically.

Blade began to hold the sword in front of himself. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.

"Let's begin," he said to me, his eyes locked directly onto mine, filled with determination. This wasn't just a simple sparring session for him.