Chapter 1: The weak one
>"you swing like a girl!"
The wooden sword cracked into Ariz's ribs.
He staggered back, breath catching in his throat,
and hit the dirt with a dull thud. Pain flared along his side, but he didn't cry out.
He clenched his teeth and tasted blood.
Laughter erupted around him--sharp,
mocking, cruel. It echoed off the training yard's
stone walls and buried itself deep in his chest.
He lays there for a moment, eyes
staring up at the clear sky. The sun was
bright. The breeze soft. Too peaceful for how hollow he
felt inside.
But he moved.
He always did.
His arms trembled as he pushed himself up.
his legs ached . Dust clung to his skin,
mixing with sweat and blood. Every movement
screamed at him to stop.
But he stood.
They were all watching him. Not with fear.
Not with respect.
With disgust.
Pity.
Smirks pulled at their mouths. eyes full of disdain.
**Two years ago**, when he turned ten, Ariz had
awakened his sword power-and in that
moment, everything had changed. His aura had
flared brighter than anyone expected,
surging like a firestorm. The instructors were
stunned. The other students afraid.
He was a prodigy.
A monster in the making.
Until he wasn't.
Days after his awakening, his powers vanished.
His aura dulled. His growth stopped.
No matter how hard he trained, nothing came.
They didn't understand why.
But they didn't need a reason to turn
against him.
Praise turned into suspicion. Then envy.
Then open ridicule.
Now, they called him**trash**.**Loser**.A
**failed genius**.
Even the instructors, once proud of him, now looked away when
he passed.
>"Again," Master Haren said. His voice wasn't angry. Just....tired.
Not cruel. Not cold. Just disappointed.
That made it worse.
Ariz remembered when master Haren praised him,
guided him, placed a hand on his shoulder and told him he would lead a
generation. Now he could barely look him in the eyes.
He picked up the wooden sword. His palms were raw.
Bleeding. The grip was slippery with sweat and pain.
Still, he raised it.
Still, he stood.
Across from him, his opponent grinned. A taller boy with strong arms and sharper eyes.
He enjoyed this. Hurting him. Proving something.
The others whispered.
Waiting for the fall.
But not all of them.
Off to the side stood **Taron**-chubby,
slow-footed, clapping off-beat with both hands.
His robes were too loose, his aura weak like a flickering candle.
Most ignored him.
But Ariz never did.
They had grown up together in the same neighborhood, played together,
ate together and survived winters together. He had no strength. No real sword path.
But he had never left Ariz's side.
Even now.
Even after the fall.
Even after the world turned its back.
Ariz met his eyes for a second and gave him the smallest nod.
Then he turned back to fight.
They circled.
Ariz struck first.
The blow was fast-but not enough. His opponent blocked it with ease and slammed
a knee into his stomach.
Pain exploded through his gut.
He fell again.
Hard.
The dust hit first, then the pain, then the silence.
He stayed down, chest heaving, blood in his mouth.
His sword rolled from his fingers.
He didn't move.
Around him, the other turned away, already bored. Already done watching.
>*I used to be someone.*
>*I used to scare them.*
Now they didn't even bother remembering his name.
No one helped him up.
No one offered a hand.
Even Master Haren said nothing this time.
He was the weak one now.
And in this world, the weak were forgotten.