BALLAD OF THE TRACIENTS

The snow-covered clearing stretched endlessly in every direction, the vast white plains unbroken except for the two figures standing in its center. The early morning light cast long shadows, and a cold wind whispered through the stillness, kicking up small flurries of snow. Kon stood facing Lord Talonir, who regarded him with a piercing gaze, as sharp and unwavering as his own feathered arrows.

It was Kon's first day of training under the Air Lord—a day he had anticipated with equal parts excitement and dread. Talonir, despite his cold demeanor, had agreed to take him in after their tense exchange about Orin, Kon's father. But Kon knew that earning Talonir's respect, let alone mastering what was expected of him, wouldn't come easily.

Talonir's voice broke the silence, with a calm voice "The strongest path to power lies not in what you think makes you strong, but in mastering the fundamentals of power" His eyes never left Kon as he spoke, pacing slowly in the snow. "Tell me, Kon, what is an Arcem?"

Kon straightened slightly, prepared for a question he thought he knew the answer to. "An Arcem is a manifestation of a Tracient's soul. It's a reflection of their strength—proof of their power."

Talonir nodded slowly. "That's correct. It is a manifestation of one's soul, tied deeply to their identity and abilities. But…" His eyes narrowed, and his tone became more serious. "What if I told you that you don't need an Arcem?"

The statement hung in the air like a sharp gust of wind. Kon blinked, shocked. "What? But every Narn Lord has an Arcem! All of our enemies have them, too! How can you say we don't need one?"

Talonir stopped his pacing, his gaze locking onto Kon's with an intensity that made the younger Tracient's heart skip a beat. "Yes, it's true that we all possess Arcems, and yes, they're powerful. But the truth is, an Arcem in itself is worthless without Mana."

"Mana?" Kon repeated, his curiosity piqued.

Talonir continued, his voice steady and unwavering. "Mana is the fundamental force. It is the very essence of the universe—the invisible current that flows through every living and non-living thing. It is the true source of power, beyond any Arcem or ability. Without the ability to control and manipulate Mana, your Arcem is just a hollow shell, a weapon with no fuel. You are powerless."

Kon stood there, absorbing Talonir's words. The Air Lord's explanation unsettled him. Everything Kon had been taught—everything he believed about power—had been centered around the Arcem. He had thought it was the ultimate proof of strength. Now, Talonir was telling him that it was merely a tool.

"Every Narn Lord," Talonir continued, his eyes gleaming with conviction, "has reached a level of mastery over Mana that goes far beyond the need for an Arcem. That is how we have achieved the power we possess. Without that mastery, we would be nothing more than children wielding oversized weapons."

Kon's mind raced. He had always assumed the Grand Kaplan form, with its twin swords, was the pinnacle of his power—something that would propel him to the strength of an Özel and, eventually, a Hazël. But Talonir's words were unraveling everything he thought he knew.

"What exactly do you mean by controlling Mana?" Kon asked, his brow furrowed in thought. "How am I supposed to do that?"

Talonir's expression softened, though it remained serious. "For your training," he said, "we're going to strip everything down to the basics. Your task, Kon, is to manifest the twin swords of your Grand Kaplan form—without transforming into it. You must call on them using only your control over the Mana that flows through you. This will require a level of concentration and manipulation of Mana that you have never attempted before. And you will have to do this while engaged in battle."

Kon's eyes widened. "Without transforming? But I've only ever summoned those swords in the Grand Kaplan form!"

Talonir raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "You think the Grand Kaplan form is your strength? It's not. It's simply a reflection of the potential you have. But until you learn to control the Mana inside you, the Grand Kaplan form is nothing more than a crutch."

Kon's surprise quickly turned into a confident smirk. "Alright then," he said, cracking his knuckles. "This should be easy enough. Once I get the hang of it, I'll probably be an Özel in no time. And then, I'll rise to Hazël before you know it."

Talonir's sharp eyes immediately darkened, his expression hardening into one of disappointment. "You fool," he snapped, his voice like ice. "Do you even understand the kind of power you're talking about?"

Kon frowned. "What do you mean?"

Talonir stepped closer, his presence almost suffocating. "You think becoming an Özel is easy? Let me put this into perspective for you. An Özel can vaporize a mountain with a single blast of Mana. Their power is beyond anything you can currently comprehend. And a Hazël?" Talonir's eyes gleamed with a dangerous intensity. "A Hazël's power is X¹⁰ that of an Özel. The destruction they could unleash is unimaginable."

Kon's smirk faded, replaced by a look of shock. He had no idea the gap between himself and the Hazël was that vast. He had thought of it as an achievable goal, but now, it seemed almost impossible.

Talonir's voice softened slightly, though it still carried a stern edge. "Forget about being an Özel or Hazël for now. Your only concern should be surviving today's training. If you can't control your Mana, your quest will end before it even begins."

Kon's eyes narrowed in determination, his fists clenched. "I'll survive," he muttered, readying himself. "Let's do this."

Talonir said nothing more, simply unsheathing his sword with a swift motion. The glint of the blade caught the morning light, and before Kon could react, Talonir was already rushing toward him.

The Air Lord moved like the wind itself—silent, swift, and deadly. His sword gleamed as he thrust it forward, aiming directly for Kon's chest.

Kon dodged to the side at the last second, ducking low and sweeping his leg in an attempt to knock Talonir off balance. But before his leg could make contact, Talonir twisted mid-air, flipping gracefully and landing with perfect precision.

As Talonir landed, he reached out, grabbing Kon by the shoulder. With a single motion, Talonir flung Kon backward, sending him flying across the clearing. Kon tumbled through the snow, his body rolling a few times before he managed to land on his feet, sliding to a stop.

Kon paused, catching his breath and analyzing Talonir's movements. Every action, every move was deliberate and precise. He was fast—too fast for Kon to keep up with.

Talonir watched him with an unyielding gaze. "You're taking this too lightly," he said, his voice cold. "If you think this is a game, you're mistaken."

Kon gritted his teeth, trying to think of a way to outmaneuver the Air Lord. But before he could react, Talonir disappeared from his line of sight.

A loud explosion echoed from behind him, and before Kon could turn, a red line of pain slashed across his face. He staggered back, his hand flying to his cheek where a fresh cut bled into the snow.

When the dust and snow settled, Talonir was standing in the center of the explosion, his sword lowered. He looked at Kon with cold, unflinching eyes. "I never miss a target, Kon," he said, his voice deathly calm. "Never."

Kon's chest tightened as he stared at the Air Lord. This wasn't just training anymore—this was a battle for survival. Talonir wasn't holding back, and Kon realized that if he didn't take this seriously, he might not make it through.

Talonir's gaze remained fixed on him, unwavering. "If you don't take this seriously," he said, his voice carrying a weight that pressed down on Kon, "your quest will end before it ever truly begins."