The courtyard didn't reset itself.
That was the first problem.
Hairline fractures still webbed the stone tiles where Lex had planted his feet. The training array hummed unevenly, its runes dimmer than they should've been after a standard spar.
Alexander Lockhart stood alone in the center of it all, golden eyes scanning the damage.
"Rand," he said calmly, "leave us."
Rand stiffened. "Father—"
"That wasn't a suggestion."
Rand hesitated, jaw tight, then glanced at Lex.
There was no anger there.
Only frustration… and something dangerously close to admiration.
"…Don't get broken," Rand muttered, then turned and left.
The gates closed.
Silence fell.
Heavy. Intentional.
Alexander picked up a training blade from the rack.
Not wood.
Aether-forged alloy. Suppressed, but real.
Lex's stomach sank.
…So we're doing this now.
Alexander rolled his shoulders once. "You'll defend. I'll attack. No counters."
Lex nodded.
His body screamed objections.
Six years old. Short limbs. Incomplete musculature. Aura circulation capped artificially.
Doesn't matter.
Alexander stepped forward.
The pressure hit first.
Not killing intent — discipline intent. The kind that crushed weak stances before blades ever met.
Lex planted his feet.
(Breathe… Condense.)
The first strike came down like judgment.
Lex raised his sword—
—and was sent skidding back three meters.
Stone cracked beneath him. Pain exploded up his arms.
His teeth clenched, not in defiance… but restraint.
Too strong. Adjust output. Now.
Alexander didn't wait.
Strike after strike followed — measured, brutal, efficient.
Lex blocked. Redirected. Slipped. Fell.
Got back up.
Again.
And again.
---
● Lex POV — Cracks Beneath Control
My arms burned. My lungs begged. My legs trembled.
Six-year-old limits are cruel things.
I misjudged one angle.
The blade grazed my shoulder.
Blood welled.
Alexander stopped instantly.
The silence afterward was louder than the clash.
He stared at the blood… then at Lex.
"…You didn't panic," Alexander said quietly.
Lex shrugged, breath uneven. "Panicking wastes time."
Alexander's grip tightened on his sword.
That answer didn't belong to a child.
The training array sparked.
Once.
Twice.
Then a thin line of neon light — not Aether, not fully — flickered briefly in the air behind Lex.
Gone in less than a second.
Alexander saw it.
Lex felt it.
Damn it.
That wasn't supposed to manifest yet.
Alexander lowered his blade slowly.
"What was that?" he asked.
Lex wiped blood from his shoulder, expression calm, voice light.
"Probably the array malfunctioning. Old runes."
Alexander didn't reply immediately.
When he did, his voice was steady — but colder.
"You're leaving residue," he said.
"Something that doesn't belong to standard Aura flow."
A pause.
"Do you know what happens to children who develop… irregularities too early?"
Lex met his father's gaze.
"I get watched," he said simply.
Alexander's eyes narrowed.
"…Yes."
Alexander exhaled slowly, then placed a large hand on Lex's head.
The pressure was firm. Grounding.
Protective.
"You're not weak," Alexander said.
"But you're not invincible."
Lex nodded.
"I know."
Alexander turned away. "From now on, your training changes. Less output. More form. You'll train under suppression."
Lex almost smiled.
Almost.
That means he won't stop me.
Behind a stone pillar near the gates, Rand had watched everything.
The fall. The blood. The flicker.
His hands trembled.
"…What are you becoming?" he whispered.
Not in fear.
In awe.
And somewhere deep down, a quiet resolve formed.
If Lex was walking ahead into something dangerous…
Then Rand would follow.
That night, Lex sat alone in his room, shoulder bandaged, staring at his reflection in the window.
Six years old.
Already being noticed.
Already leaving traces.
The world wasn't waiting for him to grow up.
It was adjusting.
And if he wasn't careful—
This timeline wouldn't break him.
It would corner him.