The Birth of a Future Fire Monarch

Chapter 1

The Birth of a Future Fire Monarch

The morning air was freezing. The sun had yet to rise above the horizon, the atmosphere was murky with dense fog. However, once a strong gust of wind dispersed the fog away, revealing a muscular, tanned man who seemed to have faced several wars standing in silence with his eyes closed, holding a deep dark axe. He opened his eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled, before slowly lifting the axe and drawing a perfect half-circle in front of him with a loud thud.

Bang!

The large log set on a stump split into two pieces, falling to the ground. He muttered in dissatisfaction at the unequal sizes and reached for a new log to place on the stump, preparing and focusing once again.

"Father, haven't you chopped enough wood? Shall I help you?" a voice said jokingly nearby. When he looked in the direction of the voice, he saw a ten-year-old boy grinning not far away, his appearance unkempt and hair disheveled, as if he had been chasing frogs rather than harvesting vegetables. His concentration was broken, and the stern facade he was maintaining had dissolved completely, the thick left hand raised to pat the forehead a few times. He sighed and grumbled, clearly annoyed.

"Today is important, yet you're still playing around like a monkey. How will you enter Arthuria like this!?" the father exclaimed, startling the birds sleeping on their nests, making them fly out to perch on the roof of the wooden shack. They were chirping non-stop, seemingly furious from having their peaceful morning disturbed.

"Father, if I'm a monkey, then you must be a father monkey." the cheeky boy retorted, laughing without a hint of guilt. He set down the vegetable sack he was carrying, picked up a cloth nearby then shook off the dust and laid it on the cart, before starting to arrange the vegetables on it. He kept ignoring his father's stern gaze that had been staring fiercely for a while.

"Darling, what are you doing? We're almost out of firewood." a sweet voice called from inside the house. The light from the kitchen revealed the silhouette of a young woman wiping sweat from her face as she hurried to prepare a special breakfast for the day.

"See, I told you." The boy laughed heartily, making his father tremble with anger, but he couldn't do anything as he had duties to attend to. He swung the axe down onto another log, which split perfectly in half this time, rendering his previous focus pointless.

"Hmph... Las!" the father shouted after him, but it was too late. Las had already dashed inside the house.

He laughed merrily but stopped abruptly upon entering a small side room, where an elderly woman was sitting on a handcrafted chair made by his father. Although his father wasn't skilled in craftsmanship, this was her most favorite chair. The old lady put down her book and smiled warmly at him.

Seeing the dark blue cover and the shiny golden letters, Las immediately recognized it. The teachings of the God of Elixirs, the first king of the Freither dynasty. It was his father's favorite book that had been read to him since he was so small that he couldn't even remember. This book must be rare now, being thirty years old, as no modern books used such rough leather for covers, except those in the town museum.

"Teasing your father again, are you?" The voice was soft, gentle, and friendly, yet carried a lofty air at the same time. For Las, his grandmother was the only person in the house he dared not joke with. Her demeanor was entirely different from others, despite possessing the fire element, she resided in a small hut in this field.

Las nodded straightforwardly.

"Father is too serious that it pressures me. Today is just the annual Element awakening day. I don't want to meddle with heavenly matters. I should look for my own work after this. Given that father is a water elementalist and mother possesses earth element, even though grandmother, you are a fire elementalist, the chances of me possessing the fire element are extremely low"

Grandmother Gathia beckoned him closer... The once mischievous boy complied willingly. Her wrinkled hands gently patted his shoulders, enveloping Las in a comforting warmth.

"Do you know why our country performs the awakening ceremony at the age of ten?" She asked, Las then shook his head.

"I don't know, grandmother." Las replied honestly. The old woman moved her hand up to stroke his messy hair, not minding getting her clean clothes dirty.

"It's because a person's element can be changed, influenced by the trials and tribulations they've endured in the past. Hardship, deprivation, comfort, and joy – all these factors can lead to that change... Even if the chances are slim, it's not right to give up hope so easily, my dear."

Las nodded, accepting her words with ease.

"Most importantly... Please don't blame your father. He is a determined and earnest man. But the scars of his past failures have left a mark on his heart, and you are his only hope." the old woman said, sighing. "Perhaps... your father becoming a farmer was due to the pressure I put on him when he was young..."

"Please don't say that, grandmother." Las interjected quickly, not wanting to see the sorrowful look on the dignified face of the old woman who bore all the blame herself and never pointed fingers at anyone. He was well aware of his father's good intentions. The man always put the family's welfare first. But...

" The Elemental awakening test has changed significantly. Arthuria is no longer a place only for those with the fire element. With the new ideology that all elements need each other, Arthuria now accepts people with other elements who have talents at Intermediate tier, level 5 and above, even though fire elementalists still receive special privileges." Las spoke earnestly. the old woman was reassured by the gleam in the boy’s deep black eyes. It was the look of someone who accepted reality without abandoning their youthful dreams.

"My dear grandson, you've grown up so much." Gathia smiled faintly then patted his head gently. "Now, go and take a bath. Your mother has prepared an outfit for you."

Las grimaced.

"I don't like those outfits. Can't I just go in this?" he protested, standing tall to show off his worn and torn clothes.

"That won't do." his grandmother said firmly. "You can't go to Arthuria looking like a scarecrow. I won't allow it."

Her words, half-serious, half-joking, left Las at a loss but forced a laugh to hide his embarrassment.

"Please excuse me then, grandmother.” Las said before leaving the cozy, fragrant room. He then once again felt the chill of the early morning as if entering another world. He couldn’t help but smile, controlling fire was extremely difficult, yet his grandmother managed to maintain the room’s temperature effortlessly.

“Truly remarkable, grandmother." Las thought, admiring her ability to be a pillar for many families in the vicinity, always offering solutions to their problems.

"Las, are you around? Come help me set the table. Oh, and wash your hands first!" he heard his mother's voice as soon as he stepped out, a sound that always lifted his spirits.

"I'm on it, mother!" he replied before heading to the backyard to wash his hands with a wooden bowl. The water was freezing cold, the upcoming bath would be terrifying. "I'll be right there!"

After drying his hands, Las hurried to assist his mother in the kitchen, but the sight of his disheveled appearance made her pause, she then quickly instructed him to take a bath and change his clothes first.

Indeed...

This was Las's life for the past ten years: simple and routine; woke up early, collected vegetables, bathed, dressed up, and carted his goods to the market in town, where his regular customers awaited. The quality of the products cultivated by his parents who were experts in farming, ensured their soil and water standards were high, leading to quick sales regardless of the quantity. Actually, he had no issues with this lifestyle.

To be honest, it might seem odd, but he preferred listening to his grandmother's stories and lessons over living a luxurious life within the walls of Arthuria, a dream place for everyone in the entire kingdom. Only his father created a tense atmosphere from the crack of dawn, making him slightly anxious. And everything would be decided on this day... No, this morning... in just a few hours.

Las sat down gazing at the gray castle towers approaching, appearing larger than when viewed from the farm. Although the place seemed near and he often passed by, entry wasn't easy. Intermediate tier, level 5 abilities weren't something everyone could achieve. After all, even during the festival that gathered children from all over the kingdom, only about a hundred or so passed each year... or perhaps even fewer.

Even if it wasn't fire, those people were a cut above the rest, showing promise from a young age. He was quite curious whether someone like him could step into such a privileged domain.

"Las."

A distant voice called, but when he looked around, he couldn't pinpoint its source and dismissed it. Maybe it was probably just his imagination. Today, both his parents were with him, not even letting him handle the vegetable sales, urging him to focus. So, he decided to zone out until it was time.

"Las..."

The voice echoed again. He squinted but saw nothing unusual. His parents were still cheerfully conducting their business, not appearing to call him. It seemed he was overthinking, nearly driving himself crazy.

"Las!" This time the voice was not only loud but also close. He jumped up in surprise. The caller was none other than his friend... but not just any friend. A fair-skinned boy stood there with a broad grin, flashing his white teeth, his cheerful face friendly, and his sharp blue eyes combined with his radiant blond hair made him stand out beyond his years. And if his luxurious white outfit was anything to go by, his status was far from ordinary...

In fact, this friend was a distant relative of his father's... likely from the royal lineage. The exact relation was unclear, but it was evident.

"Shouting from such a short distance, Ceren!" Las retorted, but it was just the name... See, even the name sounded extravagant, unlike his own simple one, Las Los, lengthy and cumbersome.

"It's time. Let's go. I've already registered for you, Las!"

Las's eyes widened as the other boy suddenly pulled him up by the wrist... And... Wait!

"What do you mean you've already registered!?"

Seeing his shocked face, Ceren laughed.

"Of course, why should we wait in line? I just had the soldiers register for me as soon as I woke up. I've been waiting for this day for ten years!"

"Waiting for ten years, my foot!" Las retorted. "You mean to say you've been waiting since you were born?!"

Ceren just shrugged, unabashed, leaving Las at a loss for words.

"Uncle, we'll be leaving first."

With that, Ceren dragged Las along, navigating through the bustling streets and onto the main road leading up to the central square of the city. Many carriages passed them, likely heading to the same destination. Soon, they reached the crowded event area, where soldiers lined up to block off the square from the public. Seeing Ceren, the soldiers saluted and allowed them immediate access to the restricted area.

Both of them were panting by the time they stopped. Las collapsed onto the ground, not caring who saw, while Ceren, still gasping for breath and unable to speak, managed to laugh. If he was this tired, why didn't he just take a carriage? Rich people, Las thought, really were incomprehensible.

"What's this, farmer? How come you're ten years old just like me?"

An unfriendly voice reached their ears, causing both Las and Ceren to turn in unison. A chubby figure, clearly well-fed for his age, and perhaps his excessively puffy clothes, made him look even larger than when Las had seen him the day before.

"Just by looking at you, I also wouldn't have guessed you were ten." Las retorted with a laugh.

"Dare you mock me!" the chubby merchant's son exclaimed.

"Why must you two always bicker whenever you meet? Don't you ever get tired of it?" The one to break up the fight was none other than Ceren.

"People have their compatibility; some get along, some don't. It's unavoidable." Las said, standing up and looking down at the slightly shorter chubby boy.

"I agree for once. Just seeing a farmer like you makes me furious!" the merchant's son snorted dismissively, trying to provoke but ending up making everyone laugh, including Las and even Ceren, who couldn't help but join in.

"Belz, have you registered for the test yet?" Ceren quickly changed the subject as he saw the situation escalating. The chubby boy puffed up with pride.

"Oh, just talking about you guys. My father has already paid to ensure I'm registered at the top of the list. I'm definitely going to be tested before you guys," Belz boasted.

Both Las and Ceren were taken aback, not expecting Belz to brazenly reveal his bribery with such pride... Truly fitting his title as the merchant's son.

"Just watch, I'm going to be a fire elementalist. Both my father and all our relatives agree... Ceren, if it turns out you do not possess fire element, I'm going to laugh so hard my teeth will fall out."

And perhaps 'self-deluded' should be added after 'merchant's son.' Such a boastful attitude is exactly what could lead to a complete downfall!

"Ah, before you go on, take a look at yourself. Both your parents are wind elementalists, where are you going to get the fire element from to kindle anything?" Las crossed his arms and spoke disdainfully.

"Ptooey! Don't compare me to you. A relative of my uncle's brother's grandfather was a fire elementalist." Belz retorted... still having the nerve to brag. Las thought, if they were to count the way Belz did, as his grandmother was a fire elementalist. His familial connections were even shorter than Belz, honestly.

"Hey, hey, hey...!"

"Over there, quiet down, will you? The ceremony is about to start!"

The guard intervened. He hadn't even started talking back, and it was already a lost cause.

"You got lucky this time, farmer!" Belz exclaimed when he saw that the venue was ready and the officials on the stage started to chatter and review the list of children to be tested this year... Soon, the total number of participants was announced, setting a historical record with almost ten thousand participants.

"Those who know they're in the first hundred, line up now, you brats!" The command came with a large firework explosion in the sky above the square. The man in silver armor raised his hand upwards, a thin trail of smoke clearly indicating his handiwork... Most people dared not make any more noise, leaving only the officials who shouted and berated the unruly crowd, threatening the kids with stubborn explosives.

"Whoa, the general himself is here, let's go, I'm number 33 and you're 34." Ceren jested, grabbing Las's wrist and pulling him to follow once more... Belz, still pale from the shock, tagged along.

"By the way, Mr. Merchant, what's your number?" Las asked softly.

"Uh... 21." he whispered back, seemingly scared, but Ceren spun around in disbelief, not expecting the merchant's son to have secured such an early number. The power of money was frightening indeed. But what was more terrifying was the future of the kingdom if such practices were easily allowed. He silently blamed them, promising a harsh reprimand after the event!

Belz moved to line up with about a dozen others in front. As his shock wore off, he started bragging and spitting words so much that the others around him were visibly annoyed. Las and Ceren pretended not to know him and avoided eye contact.

The Elemental awakening testing was simple enough since there were no clear rules or procedures. Las wasn't sure how it was during his father's time, but now, soldiers were only there to control the crowd and prevent chaos. The test merely involved walking onto the stage, placing both hands on a crystal orb, and then concentrating, thinking about oneself as instructed by the organizers. Then, the crystal would react and send signals to the walls on either side.

The left indicated the element, and the right, the power level.

The power levels were divided into nine tiers: Low, Common, Intermediate, High, Mage Warrior, Knight Mage, Grand Sorcerer, Sovereign, and Divine, with the latter sometimes referred to as Godlike. Each category had ten sub-levels for further differentiation.

Most people, over seventy percent, had only a Common tier of talent, followed by the Low tier. Intermediate tier talents were rare, and historically, no one had a power level above High tier.

And historically, only one individual over hundreds of years had managed to advance to the Divine tier. Needless to say, it was that legendary figure. As for the Sovereign tier, it's rare, with only a handful over the past few centuries, and only one living Sovereign... the legendary figure who walks among us, the first in line to the throne and the future king of Lethoven.

…Whose current whereabouts and condition within the kingdom remain unknown to all…

"Las, it's Belz's turn now. What element do you think he'll get?" Ceren whispered his expression one of anticipation, but not necessarily for something good.

"Logically, it should be the wind element." Las replied, rubbing his eyes lightly as they began to blur... He saw a faint orange flame trailing behind the merchant's son, like a lingering image.

"Right... Hey, wait..." Ceren's words halted abruptly, his eyes widening in shock as a burst of flame spread from the crystal, resembling fiery wings. Not just Ceren, but Las too was stunned, along with everyone present. Every official blinked rapidly, even the half-asleep elder on stage was wide awake. The merchant's son himself was shocked, his body stiff and trembling. As he looked up, his whole body shook, and on the left, a clear line of fire marked "Fire." and on the right...

"My god, Fire, High tier level 3!" someone shouted out. The crowd erupted in amazement, accompanied by applause from the fierce general who had silenced the children earlier with his explosive laughter.

A High tier level 3 talent, even if not fire, would be eagerly welcomed by Arthuria. There was no doubt the merchant's son's life would change drastically. Las swallowed hard, feeling the pressure build as his rival not only stood at a comparable level but suddenly leaped out of the competitive field, reaching a level far beyond Las's reach. Just the thought was enough to make his heart race. Ceren looked pained, his usually soft blue eyes now glaring fiercely in rivalry.

Belz danced a bit on stage, then easily stepped down, turning to face the two of them. He made a throat-slitting gesture with his thumb and stuck his tongue out mockingly, deliberately mouthing the word 'genius' for them to see clearly.

"Ha! Just a High tier level 3 and acting all high and mighty!" Ceren retorted, unbothered by anyone's status. Seeing others too intimidated to follow suit on stage only fueled his irritation. "Elder, could both of us take the test before these pale-faced nobles?"

Ceren looked towards the elder sitting idly on stage. Everyone turned to the elder... His vague gaze swept over the crowd, and without any objection, he raised his hand in permission. The fierce general glanced briefly and agreed.

"You two, come this way."

Las wanted to scream... to scream in a language that didn't exist, unable to comprehend why he had to be stuck in such an embarrassing situation. Just moments ago, even if the results had turned out poorly and unremarkable, people would have forgotten about it. But now, by asking to skip the queue like this, it felt like he was openly humiliating himself. From being unnoticed while everyone cheered for their own children, he had suddenly become the center of attention.

Ceren led the way onto the stage with a confidence that didn't seem fitting for a mere ten-year-old. Las saw something like a raging fire following him... more intense than what he had seen following Belz. Despite the scorching sun, he suddenly felt an icy chill, his blood turning cold when Ceren's small hand touched the crystal orb. That light that flared up in front of the statue of the God of Elixir left everyone stunned by the silver flames that enveloped the small figure.

At that moment, Las felt chills all over his body, a shiver down his spine, and he could no longer control his shaking.

"Fire, High tier... Level 7!" the officials on the stage announced, but this time, no one said anything more because the color of the flames was unusual. "Hidden element... Light, Intermediate tier, level 9!"

It wasn't just fire, but also a rare element like light. This was a talent level that truly qualified one to ascend to the Sovereign level. Everyone had goosebumps and dared not speak for a moment.

"Hahaha, this year's levels are truly high. What's with these kids?!" The chief general clapped loudly as if setting off an explosion, and the crowd erupted in amazement as they witnessed the birth of a new Sovereign before their eyes. Ceren stood waving to the densely packed crowd around, proud and without any sign of nervousness or overexcitement. This made Ceren seem even more extraordinary than a mere child, even the officials and soldiers around couldn't help but admire...

"And what about you, boy from the Los family? What can you achieve?" The chief general said before pushing Las, who had been standing frozen like a stone since a while ago. He stumbled, thankfully there were steps to prevent him from falling. Looking up at the stage, Ceren offered his hand with a smile.

"Go on and show everyone that you too are worthy of standing here, Las." After saying this, Ceren pulled him up to stand beside him, looking down at the trembling fat boy below the stage.

Las wanted to cry... to cry and run away from the stage right then and there, but he couldn't. Everyone’s eyes were now fixed on one person... him. This was the most difficult situation he had ever faced in his life, as his dear friend was about to cold-bloodedly 'kill' him with his own hands.

He had mentally prepared for this day for months, managing to reduce the pressure to a mere sliver by this morning. But it had slightly expanded due to his father's pressure, further inflated by the competitive spark from his rival, the merchant's son, and finally blown out of proportion by Ceren, who had built a towering wall and was now dragging him to tear it down... It was madness.

Las drifted absentmindedly to the front of the crystal orb, bewildered, unsure of when his legs had carried him here. His blood ran ice-cold, ready to meet his end right at the moment. The gaze of the witnesses on the stage was piercing, including the old man who, by all accounts, should have hurried to sleep by now.

"Please, young man." the elder said, gesturing for him to begin. His mind was not with him; he hurried to follow the instructions to get it over with as quickly as possible. Just by placing his hands on and then closing his eyes, he felt a sudden faintness. What he saw was an endless void and darkness. He jerked back to reality, hastily withdrawing his hand from the crystal orb.

Though it was only for a fraction of a second, sweat poured down his face like a waterfall, and his back was completely drenched. He gasped for air as if he had just woken up from a nightmare... When he looked at the faces of all the officials, including the old man who had invited him to test just moments ago, the old man was now holding his forehead, unable to meet his gaze.

Swoosh...!

Someone among the officials let out a snort of laughter.

"Unprecedented, to faint just from touching the crystal orb. From a grandmaster to a clown now, huh?"

Those words struck him hard. The worst-case scenario had unfolded before him... Not only was his element useless, but his talent level was also...

"Water, low tier, level two! Someone like you could only be a janitor in the palace, a mere cleaner of the royal kitchens!" the merchant's son bellowed across the wide square. The others waiting to watch relaxed and burst into mocking laughter, all except Ceren who stood silently, approached Las, and patted his back gently. Seeing the fat boy not stopping, Ceren, filled with rage, nearly jumped off the stage to confront him, but Las managed to grab his wrist just in time.

He didn't know what to do next...

To cry? Perhaps not.

To be angry? Neither.

Las thought about the merchant's son's mockery. Or maybe it was the truth after all.

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