My name is Enric Varion, third son of the famous Varion clan.
To them, I was a burden. An eyesore that didn't fit the mold of warriors and conquerors. My existence was tolerated at best, ignored at worst. I never felt like I belonged here—this grand estate that reeked of power, legacy, and pride.
Today was no different.
I sat cross-legged on the cold floor of my room, flipping through a stained, cooking manual I'd dug out from the back of the clan's neglected library wing. The recipes were faded, written in old ink, but I read them anyway. Duck glaze, pepper-braised rootleaf, sweetbean rice. The names alone gave me peace. This world of flavor and patience didn't care about my last name. It never judged.
As I read through a recipe for a roasted duck glaze, the door to my room slammed open. Elder Lunaire, one of the most feared elders in the clan, stormed in. His gray eyes burned with impatience, and his voice was as harsh as the wind outside the window.
"Get up, Enric!" he barked, his voice crackling with irritation. "The Path Assessment Ceremony is today. You've been wasting time in here long enough."
I blinked, confused and disoriented. "Path Assessment Ceremony?" I repeated, more to myself than to him, trying to grasp what was happening.
Lunaire didn't bother to explain. Instead, his face twisted in anger as he grabbed my arm, pulling me out of my chair with surprising strength. His grip was iron, forcing me to stand. "You have no time to ask questions, boy. Just move. Do you think this will wait for you?"
Before I could protest, he shoved me toward the door, and we were out of the room.
Path Assessment Ceremony was where the clans would boasts their clans young warriors, it was to assess the future paths of young warriors.
The walk through the estate was long. Too long. I could feel Lunaire's hand still burning into my arm even after he let go. The halls were quiet, like the whole clan was holding its breath for today's spectacle. Not for me, of course. No one expected anything from the failure.
But I wasn't nervous. Not because I was confident—hell no. I just stopped expecting anything to go my way a long time ago.
Outside, the Path Grounds were already crowded. Elders from the main house stood in their ceremonial robes, watching like hawks. Members from the branch families were gathered in neat rows. All of them came with hope in their chests. They wanted to prove something today.
I was just here to get it over with.
A massive stone circle stood at the center, etched with ancient runes. One by one, the children stepped forward onto the circle. Their hands would be cut, their blood dropped into the stone, and the circle would glow, revealing their affinity and potential path.
That was how it worked. Simple. Clean. Brutal.
My first brother had gone up years ago. The circle glowed with blue, red, and white—ice, fire, and wind. A prodigy, they called him. He became an Elementalist, wielding all three with ease.
My second brother? The glow was pure crimson. His blood hissed like molten iron when it touched the stone. He screamed as the Path of Burning Steel seared into his bones. He became a warrior forged by pain and heat.
And now me.
Elder Lunaire shoved me forward with the grace of a butcher.
"Name," the officiator said, not even looking at me.
"Enric Varion," I muttered, stepping onto the stone.
"Blood."
A ceremonial blade was handed to me. It was cold, unforgiving steel. I sliced the tip of my finger and let the blood drip onto the runes.
For a second, nothing happened.
I heard someone snicker behind me.
Then, the circle pulsed once. Softly. No flash. No explosion of light. Just... a flicker. Gentle and slow.
Petals began to grow.
Tiny blossoms, pale pink and blue, bloomed from the stone. Vines curled outward like they'd been waiting for air. The scent of something sweet filled the ground.
The laughter started almost immediately.
"What is that?"
"Is that... flowers?"
The mocking spread like wildfire. Snorts, giggles, even open laughter. Like they'd just witnessed the punchline of a very long, very cruel joke.
I stood frozen in the middle of the stone circle. The petals continued to bloom beneath my feet—gentle, fragile things in shades of pink and blue, like they didn't belong in this place of blood and steel. Vines slowly traced the lines of the runes, curling outward like a slow breath of life exhaled after years of silence.
It should have been beautiful.
But no one here saw it that way.
High above the circle, seated on the grand podium, my family said nothing.
My father—Lord Vexar Varion, the Unbreakable Spear—rose to his feet. His expression didn't change. No fury. No disappointment. Nothing. Just the cold silence of a man who no longer recognized his own blood.
He turned his back and walked away.
Beside him, my grandfather followed, leaning on his cane. He didn't look at me, didn't speak. He simply stood, the weight of centuries behind his eyes, and left like I wasn't worth the breath it would take to acknowledge me.
Then my brothers.
The golden sons of the clan.
One adjusted his cloak. The other scoffed beneath his breath. Neither said a word.
They stood… and walked away.
Just like that.
I watched them leave. Four shadows disappearing from the podium like I'd never existed at all.
The officiator's voice was barely audible over the rising noise.
The officiator's voice was barely audible over the rising noise.
"Enric Varion. Path Affinity: Path of Flowers. Nature-based, high emotional attunement, minimal combat potential."
A pause.
"Non-militarized. Non-elite."
He didn't need to say the last part. Everyone already knew what it meant.
Useless.
The branch clan heads, once stiff and nervous, relaxed. I caught one of them whispering to another, a grin tugging at his lips.
"Looks like the main family's runt won't be a threat after all."
"Thank the stars," another muttered. "We were worried he might surprise us. Turns out, he's just harmless."
Their laughter wasn't cruel—it was relieved.
I stood there, blood still dripping from my finger, the scent of flowers sweet and sharp in my nose.
The officiator shooed me away, while calling the other kids.
I stepped off the stone circle.
The petals wilted where my boots touched, crumpling like they didn't belong near me either. I didn't look at anyone. Didn't need to. Their voices followed me like a pack of crows.
"Useless."
"Shameful."
"Should've thrown him out years ago."
Elder Lunaire didn't even wait. As I walked past him, he turned his back like the others, as if breathing the same air as me was now a disgrace. I didn't bother rushing. There was nowhere to go. Nowhere I wanted to be.
The Path Grounds blurred at the edges. I didn't cry. Not because I was strong—but because even that had been beaten out of me over the years. Tears would have been a waste.
The ceremony carried on without a hitch, louder now, freer now that the last bit of tension—the possibility that I might have amounted to something—was gone. I became an afterthought before I even cleared the grounds.
I wandered.
Past the statues of long-dead heroes, past the training yards where my brothers once carved their names into history. Past the old barracks, where I used to sneak bits of leftover bread to the stray dogs.
Finally, I stopped at the old garden behind the estate. A forgotten patch of land where weeds ruled and the air smelled of dirt and wet stone.
I sat down on a cracked bench and stared at my hand. The blood had dried, a small, ugly scab forming on the fingertip. A mark of my failure. Or maybe... a beginning.
Path of Flowers.
It sounded pathetic. Weak. Like a joke.
But it was perfect for me, now no one would force me for training. Even though that was what I wanted. I giggled slowly.
I couldn't help it. The giggle turned into a chuckle, then a low laugh, hollow and empty but honest. It didn't make sense. It wasn't funny. But it felt right. It felt... real.
I wiped my eyes with the back of my sleeve, trying to stop, but the laughter didn't stop. It bubbled up from somewhere deep in me—somewhere I thought had gone dry and empty long ago.
I had no place here. No family. No future.
But maybe, just maybe, that was okay.
The garden was quiet, with only the sound of the wind rustling through the weeds. The laughter faded into something more peaceful. And for the first time in my life, I wasn't afraid of what was coming next.
What was the worst they could do? Cast me out? Disown me? They'd already done all that in every way that mattered.
I looked down at my hand again. The flowers had long since wilted, but the memory of them was still there. Maybe it wasn't the path I wanted. It wasn't the path they expected. But it was mine.
A voice broke the silence.
"Enric?"
I turned slowly, not surprised. There was only one person who would've found me out here.
It was my younger cousin, Liora. She was quiet, soft-spoken, and always had a way of looking at me like I was something more than the clan wanted me to be. But I could see the hesitation in her eyes. She didn't know what to say. She never did.
I didn't say anything either.
Liora stepped closer, her hand hovering near the small bundle of flowers she always carried with her. She didn't ask. She didn't need to. She simply sat beside me, the scent of wildflowers mingling with the stale air of the forgotten garden.
"It'll be okay," she whispered after a long pause.
I laughed again, though it was softer this time. "You sound like them."
Her brow furrowed slightly, but she didn't challenge me. "You'll figure it out. You always do. They... they don't know you like I do."
I glanced over at her. Liora didn't see the world in terms of power or status, not the way the others did. Her world was small, quiet, but honest. Maybe that was why she stuck by me.
"You're not like them, are you?" I muttered.
She smiled faintly, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "No. But maybe that's okay too."
I didn't respond. I just sat there, next to her, letting the silence fall between us like a gentle shroud. For once, it didn't feel like I was drowning in it.
Maybe Liora was right. Maybe things didn't have to be the way they'd always been. Maybe, just maybe, I could carve my own path—even if it was one made of flowers.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, the scent of the garden filling my lungs. It wasn't the future I'd once imagined, but it was mine.
And that was all I needed.