Time moves differently when a decision is made.
One minute, you were lost in your own doubt. Next, you were standing at the edge of change.
That was how it felt for Tyron.
Four Months Earlier
The classroom buzzed with energy—students talking over one another, paper balls being tossed when the teacher wasn’t looking, and the occasional loud outburst from Fredrick arguing about why the grading system was flawed.
Tyron sat near the back, staring out the window, his pencil unmoving. The sun poured in, cutting golden lines across his desk. His body was present, but his mind was elsewhere.
“You still thinkin’ about what Fred said?” Luka asked from beside him, leaning halfway over the edge of his desk. He kept his voice low so the teacher wouldn’t hear.
Tyron blinked, pulled from his thoughts. “Huh?”
“I know he said it kinda harsh, but he’s not wrong,” Luka continued. “I’ve seen you use your Ark for, what… six, seven years now? You gotta get over that hurdle, man.”
Tyron looked down at his blank notebook page. “Look, it’s not that easy for me,” he muttered. “You think I don’t know that? I’ve been thinkin’ about it for a long time.”
Kimiko, sitting two rows up, twisted in her chair to chime in. “Thinkin’ ain’t doin’, Ty. Don’t let another month go by and all you’ve done is stare at that letter sittin’ on your desk.”
Fredrick leaned back in his chair with a dramatic sigh. “Just enter already. You’re strong. What are you, scared?”
Tyron glanced at him but said nothing.
Kyron, seated behind Luka, closed his textbook and rested his chin on his hand. “He’ll decide when he’s ready. Not everyone has to dive in headfirst, Fred.”
Tyron turned back toward the window, the voices of his friends fading into the background. The clouds drifted lazily through the sky—but his thoughts moved fast.
He had made up his mind.
He just hadn’t said it out loud yet.
That evening, the door to his home creaked open as Tyron stepped inside. The scent of stew and spices welcomed him in. His school bag hit the floor with a soft thud, and he kicked his shoes off near the entryway.
His mother, Avira Taiōji, turned from the stove. “Welcome home, baby.”
Tyron nodded, but his voice came slower than usual. “Hey, Ma.”
She noticed it immediately. The slight pause. The weight behind it.
She walked over and wiped her hands on a dish towel. “You alright?”
Tyron stood still for a moment before taking a breath.
“I’m gonna do it.”
She blinked. “Do what?”
He looked her in the eye. “Virtuoso. I’m going to take the entrance exam.”
Avira stared at him for a heartbeat, then slowly smiled. Not just any smile—but the smile. The one that always made Tyron feel like the world wasn’t as heavy as it felt.
“That’s what I was hopin’ to hear.”
She walked forward, wrapping her arms around him with a proud squeeze. “Then we’ve got work to do.”
The Next Four Months
Training began.
Hard.
Avira didn’t go easy on him—she couldn’t. Tyron needed more than motivation. He needed discipline.
Mornings began before sunrise. She’d wake him with a loud knock on the door and a voice that didn’t accept excuses.
“Up. Five laps around the district. No dragging your feet.”
He’d groan, but he did it. Always.
Then came sparring. First with wooden practice swords, then with reinforced gloves and live Ark practice.
“Control your output,” she’d say as his hands flickered with heat. “If you burn too hot, you’ll collapse before the real fight begins.”
“I’m trying.”
“Try harder.”
They trained in every environment—rain, dry wind, even snow. Endurance, mana focus, close-quarters defense. And after that? School.
He still had classes to attend. Assignments to turn in. Group projects to lead. And somehow, despite all of that, he kept his grades steady.
Kimiko offered to quiz him between periods. Kyron lent him practice scrolls. Luka made flashcards but doodled jokes in the margins. Fredrick tried to help once—only to turn it into a competition about who could remember the most facts.
Evenings were for mana control exercises. Avira would guide his breathing, helping him draw his Ark’s power out in measured pulses.
“Let it flow through you. Not out of you.”
But even with her guidance, she saw it.
That flicker.
That moment of hesitation.
Every time his fire roared too loud. Every time he flared up too close to her.
His hands would shake.
He’d back away.
He’s still afraid, she realized. Afraid he’ll lose control. Afraid he’ll hurt me… again.
She never brought it up directly. Instead, she stayed close.
When his fire sputtered, she encouraged.
When his aura flared, she remained steady.
And when he finally asked, “What if I mess up?” she answered simply:
“Then you learn from it. You don’t run from yourself, Ty. You face it.”
Present Day: The Final Day Arrives
Before he knew it, four months had vanished.
Now, Tyron stood among a sea of students outside the towering gates of Virtuoso Academy.
His gloves were snug on his hands. His jacket was zipped to the collar. His hair was tied back loosely, strands still wild. The academy’s towering facade stood above them all, casting a long shadow across the training fields below.
He could hear whispers.
“That’s the place?”
“Is it true they have dragons on campus?”
“I heard someone died during last year’s exam…”
The tension in the air was suffocating—but Tyron stood still.
Calm.
Focused.
His heart pounded, but it didn’t shake him.
He looked down at his gloves. His fingers flexed once, remembering all the mornings, the lectures, the long nights spent sweating under moonlight.
He thought of his mother’s voice again.
“You were born to burn bright, Ty. Don’t let fear dim your light.”
His chest rose.
Then his eyes locked on the academy doors.
And for the first time… he stepped forward with no hesitation.
