The boy with the greatest potential

He understood why everyone stiffened as they placed their hands on the altar, as small invisible needles grappled onto his hand. Atrox stifled a gasp as bitter cold energy flooded into him and raced down his body like a dam in a narrow tunnel. It was as if his blood was flowing in reverse.

'So this is essence,' he thought.

He was hot, warm, and so cold, but he was also alive, and his very pores trembled at the power that filled him. He wanted to run, and he knew he could circle the Highlands with only his legs, without rest, jump, and begin his conquest of the Eternal Skies.

Atrox ignored all other feelings and embraced the power that filled him. Greedily, he drank deep and pulled as much as he could into himself. Yes, more and more.

'Is this what it means to be a knight?' he thought to himself.

The next moment, the power reached his lower abdomen, more like the power took all the veins in his body and then reconnected them towards his lower abdomen. He was suddenly aware of his core. It appeared mentally to him as a small nut of pure silver that spun gently, and the energy rushed into it, enlarging it.

The essence now in his core blasted out, and Atrox was back into himself. He was still at the altar, and the runes on it blazed so brightly that he felt heat rolling off it.

Castellen Windsor flinched back in shock, and the crowd murmuring grew into raised voices. People stood, gasping and pointing. What was happening right now was rather strange, as if the power that Atrox was calling—the golden light around him—was a challenge in itself. The stronger Knights all reacted to it.

Their auras bellowed out around them, and although they quickly took hold of it, the pressure that suddenly grew in the room was so heavy that all the Aspirants and the new Squires, except for Atrox, fell to their knees.

They cried out. "What is happening?"

"Is something wrong?"

Nadia couldn't help the laughter that slipped out as her knees slammed into the stone ground. "You arrogant brat, we won't ever hear the end of this!"

The Elders, their faces written in shock, stood up as the Clan leader slowly raised himself. His face was still flat, but there was no mistaking the surprise and the glint in his eyes. His dark aura, like murky water, flickered around him as he looked at his son, bathed in golden light.

The Clan leader stood up? Is this really happening? That was even more surprising to Atrox than what was happening in front of him. His heartbeat quickened, he smiled, then laughed as all the nerves in his body unclenched.

'I did it,' he thought. 'I really did it.'

Maybe for once, I really won't have to struggle to get what I want.

The golden light gathered together and then shot up in a beam—a pillar that reached higher than the hall had ever seen, so high it illuminated the usually dark ceiling.

This time, a hush fell over the whole hall as everyone watched, mouths agape. Atrox Soryu had just become the type of genius the Clan had never had the opportunity to birth. Maybe in the Higher or Middle Clans, but not in a small Clan like their own.

A prodigy that would shake the Hinterlands.

It was all they could think about, and the spies from other Clans, hidden among the crowd, thought about how this would affect their Clans. They didn't like it.

Then the golden light vanished with its pressure, and people remembered to breathe again—only to suck in sharp breaths as a purple circle began to appear on Atrox's hand.

'It tickles,' Atrox thought as the purple circle was written by the lingering enchantments of the altar. 'Not painful.'

Everyone leaned forward to see his Order. Castellen Windsor narrowed his eyes as if he could wish it to be the Holy Order, and all the Knights moved away from the wall to see clearly. A woman in a black robe with the Scythe of the Dark Order lifted into the air and floated to see what was happening.

The Clan leader's eyes sharpened, zeroing in on his son.

In that moment, it seemed the very world held its breath. Atrox felt as if everything was slow, and blood rushed into his head. His pounding heart was very loud in his ears.

And then his Order Mark appeared. Everything came back to normal, but not normal, as everyone flinched. They recoiled as if they'd seen something repulsive. Their auras returned, stronger, sharper, as if they were sharpening knives.

Hostility made the very air tremble, and the newly minted Squires fell to their knees once again. But this time, most of them slumped from the pressure coming from the Knights. Nadia's smile froze, and she hurriedly wiped the blood from her nose. Her voice came out in a thin croak. "No."

Castellen Windsor had lifted into the air as well to join the woman, and his gaze was as severe as Atrox's blade as he looked down on her. "A forbidden Order!" His hand sparked with golden light. He was a healer, but that also meant he knew just how fast to kill.

Atrox stood there unmoving, his unblinking eyes staring at the mark on his right hand. A purple circle, yes, but what was inside wasn't familiar to him at all. There was nothing inside. Just darkness so deep it was drinking the light. His heart dimmed, and something shattered.

He saw his plans and ambitions for the future shatter and float away. That quickly? Atrox took a step forward, blindly, but he was restrained. Darkness bubbled to life beneath him, and thick chains of darkness warped around his limbs.

Atrox looked at it without comprehension but then he looked up, straight at his father. There's still hope yet; his father was the Clan leader, surely he wouldn't let a genius waste away just because of some mark. 'I'm the fastest sword, the one with the strongest potential,' he thought, but it was hollow.

When he saw his father's eyes, he knew despair. His father's face was filled with emotion—something Atrox had craved for since birth, but not this type. His father watched him with hostility and such hatred that Atrox flinched back.

And then his father turned, slowly, deliberately, and walked out of the hall. His steps were like a hammer's strike to a coffin.

That, Atrox knew—despair.