The water was dark and freezing. Marcus sank deeper, his lungs burning. He couldn't tell which way was up. The current spun him like a toy.

*I'm dying,* he thought. *Just like Father. Just like Mother.*

Then something strange happened. Warmth spread from his chest through his body. It felt like fire pushing away the cold.

His eyes opened underwater. Everything should be dark, but he could see clearly. Fish swam past. Plants waved in the current. Strangest of all, light came from his own body.

Golden light surrounded him. It got brighter every second, so bright it hurt to look at.

Dark shapes moved toward him through the water. Marcus's heart jumped. These were river beasts. Monsters that killed grown men. Some were big as horses with teeth like knives.

The closest beast opened its huge jaws and swam straight at him. Marcus wanted to scream but couldn't. Water would fill his lungs.

The beast stopped just feet away. Marcus could see every sharp tooth. But it didn't attack. Instead, it backed away, making scared sounds.

The golden light grew brighter. All the beasts turned and ran. Even the biggest ones fled from a seven-year-old boy.

Marcus didn't understand. But he knew he had to get out before his luck ended.

The current carried him along. His body hit rocks but somehow didn't hurt much. The golden light protected him.

After a long time, the river became calmer. Marcus's head broke the surface and he gasped for air. His arms and legs barely worked.

The riverbank was close. He tried to swim but had almost no strength left. The golden light was fading.

*Just a little more,* he told himself. *Mother said to survive. I must survive.*

His hand touched mud. He grabbed it and pulled himself forward. Finally, he was out of the water. He collapsed on the bank, coughing water and gasping.

The sun was setting, painting the sky orange and red. Marcus lay there, too tired to move. His body hurt everywhere. His clothes were torn. Blood mixed with river water on his skin.

But he was alive.

As darkness fell, Marcus heard voices nearby. He wanted to call for help, but something made him stay quiet. He couldn't trust anyone now.

"Grandfather, can we go home? I've been training all day," a young girl said.

"Just a bit longer, Lydia. If you want to be strong, you must...wait, what's that?"

Footsteps came closer. Marcus tried to sit up but couldn't move.

An old man's face appeared above him. He had kind eyes and a long white beard. "This boy is still alive! His heartbeat is weak, but it's there."

A small girl pushed past the old man. She had her hair in a ponytail and looked about eight. Her face showed curiosity.

The old man placed his hands on Marcus's chest. Warm energy flowed into him, different from the golden light but still good. It pushed away pain and cold.

Marcus coughed hard, spitting water. He opened his eyes fully. The girl's face was very close, staring at him.

"Are you an angel?" Marcus asked weakly. His mind was confused.

Slap!

The girl hit his cheek lightly. "What? Angel? Do you want me to kill you?"

"Lydia! Be gentle. The boy is hurt," the old man said.

Marcus touched his stinging cheek. "Sorry. I thought... I thought I was dead."

The old man smiled. "You're alive, boy. Though I'm amazed you survived. This river kills even strong warriors."

He kept channeling energy. His eyebrows rose in surprise. "Remarkable. Your body is healing itself. I've never seen this in a child."

Marcus felt strength returning slowly. After several minutes, he could sit up. He bowed his head. "Thank you for saving me, sir."

The old man studied him. "How did you end up in this river? Where is your family? Tell me and I'll take you home."

Marcus's face fell. Memories flooded back. His father falling. His mother bleeding. The pain felt like a knife in his heart.

But he couldn't tell the truth. What if this old man knew Cassian? What if he helped with the attack? Trust could get him killed.

He made his voice sad. "Bandits attacked my village. They killed everyone, including my parents. They burned everything. I jumped in the river to escape. Now I have nowhere."

It wasn't completely a lie. Just different bandits. But the result was the same. His parents were gone and he was alone.

The old man's eyes showed sympathy. Lydia looked sad too.

"I see," the old man said softly. "So you have no home?"

Marcus shook his head.

The old man thought for a moment, then smiled. "Boy, I lead the Iron Sword Academy, not far from here. If you have nowhere else, come with me. I'll give you a home."

Marcus looked up, hope in his chest. An academy meant training. Training meant getting stronger. Getting stronger meant one day he could make them pay.

"I would be honored, sir," Marcus said.

"Good! But don't call me sir. Call me Grandfather Octavius. From today, you're my grandson." He helped Marcus stand. "Now, what's your name?"

Marcus hesitated. He couldn't use his full name. If anyone learned he was Alexander's son, they might kill him.

"My name is Marcus," he said simply.

"Just Marcus? No family name?"

"The bandits destroyed everything. I want to forget my old name. I want to start new."

Grandfather Octavius nodded. "Very well, Marcus. This is my granddaughter, Lydia. She's eight. You two will be like brother and sister now."

Lydia crossed her arms. "He's smaller than me, so he should call me big sister!"

Despite everything, Marcus almost smiled. "Yes, big sister."

"How old are you, Marcus?" Grandfather Octavius asked.

"Seven, Grandfather."

Octavius looked surprised. "Seven? You look older. Well, no matter. Let me catch fish for dinner. You must be hungry."

As the old man walked to the river, Marcus stared at the dark sky. His hands became fists.

*Mother. Father. I will survive. I will grow stronger than anyone. And one day, I will make them all pay.*

A single tear ran down his cheek. But it wasn't sadness. It was determination.

Back at the palace, General Brutus dragged Helena's body before Cassian. The new king sat on the throne, a cruel smile on his face.

"Your Majesty, we have killed the woman as ordered," Brutus said, bowing low. "But the boy fell into the river. The current was strong and there are many beasts. He's surely dead."

Cassian stood and walked to Helena's body. He looked down at his sister without any emotion. "Are you certain the boy is dead? I want proof."

Brutus shifted nervously. "Your Majesty, no one can survive that river. Even trained warriors fear it. A seven-year-old child has no chance."

"I didn't ask for your opinion. I asked for proof!" Cassian's voice was sharp as a blade.

"We... we searched the riverbank for hours, Your Majesty. We found nothing. The beasts must have eaten him."

Cassian was quiet for a long moment. Then he nodded slowly. "Very well. Prepare a funeral for my dear sister. Make it grand. Let everyone see how much I loved her."

Brutus looked confused. "Your Majesty?"

"You fool! The people must think this was a tragic accident, not murder. We'll say bandits attacked the palace. The king and queen died defending the kingdom. Their brave son tried to escape but drowned in the river. I, the grieving brother, took the throne to protect the kingdom in this dark time."

Brutus bowed deeper. "You are wise, Your Majesty."

"Now take Alexander's body and throw it to the dogs. That outsider doesn't deserve a funeral."

After everyone left, Cassian sat alone on the throne. His face showed no joy, only cold calculation. "Marcus... if you're alive somewhere, grow up fast. I need a reason to build my army stronger. A lost prince seeking revenge makes the perfect excuse."

Meanwhile, far away in a place beyond the mortal realm, two figures stood on a mountain peak that touched the clouds.

The man and woman looked exactly like Alexander and Helena.

Helena gazed out at the endless sky. Though she looked calm, her hands trembled. "Husband, did we do the right thing? Leaving our son like that?"

The man who looked like Alexander smiled slightly. "He'll be fine. If he can't survive in such a small world, he's not worthy of being my son."

"But he's only seven years old! He must be so scared and alone right now."

"That fear will make him strong. That loneliness will forge his character." The man turned to face his wife. "You know who I really am. You know why we had to do this."

Helena's eyes filled with tears. "I know you're not really Alexander. I know you're someone far greater. But does that make abandoning our child right?"

"We didn't abandon him. We gave him the greatest gift-the chance to become truly strong. If he stayed with me, he would grow powerful, yes. But he would always be in my shadow. He would never reach his full potential."

"And if he dies?" Helena whispered.

"Then he was never meant for greatness." The man's voice was hard. "Only those who face death and survive can stand at the peak of this universe. Pain, humiliation, suffering-these are the fires that forge legends. Without them, he's just another privileged prince."

Helena wiped her tears. "I understand with my mind. But my heart... my heart is breaking."

The man took her hand gently. "I know. But you must trust me. I've seen countless worlds rise and fall. I know what it takes to become someone who can change the universe. Marcus has potential beyond anything you can imagine. But only hardship will unlock it."

"How long must we stay away from him?"

"Until he's strong enough to find us himself. Until he surpasses even me." The man looked at the stars. "My real identity must remain hidden. If people knew who I really am, they would either worship Marcus or kill him. He must make his own path."

"And what about Cassian? He's truly evil."

The man smiled coldly. "Cassian is a tool. He doesn't know it, but he's serving our purpose. The hatred Marcus feels will drive him forward. Every memory of today will fuel his growth."

"You're using our son's pain as a training tool," Helena said bitterly.

"I'm giving him the motivation to become a god." The man pulled her close. "Trust me. One day, Marcus will thank us for this. One day, he'll understand that true strength comes from climbing up from the very bottom."

He raised his hand and tore through space itself. A rift appeared, showing stars and galaxies beyond. "Come. We must return to the Higher Realm. My absence has been noted. If I stay away longer, war will consume the entire universe."

"Will we ever see him again?" Helena asked as they stepped toward the rift.

"Yes. When he's ready. When he's strong enough to stand beside me not as my son, but as my equal." The man looked back one last time. "Grow strong, Marcus. Hate me if you must. But grow strong. The universe needs you."

They stepped through the rift and disappeared. Behind them, in the small world below, a seven-year-old boy slept by a river, dreaming of revenge, unaware that his father watched from beyond the stars.

Marcus woke with a start. He was lying on a soft bed in a small wooden room. Sunlight came through the window. For a moment, he forgot where he was.

Then everything came rushing back. His parents. The attack. The river.

He sat up quickly and pain shot through his body. He was covered in bandages.

The door opened and Lydia walked in carrying a bowl of soup. "You're awake! Grandfather said you'd sleep for days, but you're already up."

"Where am I?" Marcus asked.

"The Iron Sword Academy. This is the guest house. Grandfather brought you here last night." She set the soup down. "You should eat. You've been sleeping for two whole days."

Two days? Marcus looked at his hands. The cuts and bruises were almost healed. His body was recovering impossibly fast.

"Lydia, can I ask you something?"

"What?"

"This academy... do they teach people to become strong warriors?"

Lydia nodded. "Of course! It's the best sword academy in the entire Silvermere Region. Grandfather is the founder and headmaster. He's super strong!"

Marcus's eyes gleamed with determination. "Then I want to train. I want to become the strongest."

Lydia laughed. "Everyone says that when they first arrive. But training is hard. Most people quit."

"I won't quit," Marcus said quietly. His voice was soft but had steel in it. "I can't quit. I have promises to keep."

Something in his eyes made Lydia stop laughing. She saw something that shouldn't be in a seven-year-old's eyes. Something cold and determined and a little frightening.

"Okay," she said softly. "I believe you."

Three years passed like water flowing down a river. Marcus was now ten years old.

Every morning before sunrise, he woke and cleaned the training grounds. He swept away fallen leaves, wiped down the practice weapons, and made sure everything was perfect. The other students never saw him do this work. They only saw the results.

During the day, he dusted the books in Grandfather Octavius's library. Hundreds of books about sword techniques, energy cultivation, and warrior history. While cleaning, Marcus read every single one. His memory was strange-once he read something, he never forgot it.

At night, when everyone slept, Marcus sneaked into the library again. He practiced the techniques he'd read about. He couldn't train openly because Grandfather Octavius had rules. Students under ten years old were not allowed to begin warrior training. The body needed to mature first, the old man said.

But Marcus couldn't wait. Every night he trained in secret, pushing his body to the limit.

"Brother Marcus, let's go watch the competition!" Lydia called to him one morning. She was now eleven and had grown taller. Her skills with the sword were already better than students twice her age.

Marcus nodded. He was curious too. Today, the academy was holding a competition to find the strongest student under seventeen. The winner would represent the Iron Sword Academy at the regional tournament.

When they arrived at the arena, it was packed with people. Students, teachers, and even visitors from other academies had come to watch.

Grandfather Octavius sat in the judge's seat, his face serious. "Everyone knows why we're here. We will find our strongest talent today. The winner will train personally with me for one year. Use all your abilities!"

"Yes, Headmaster!" the students shouted together.

Marcus watched the fights carefully. The students were good, but one person caught his attention. A boy named Julian. He was fifteen years old with dark hair and sharp eyes.

"Julian is going to win," Marcus whispered to Lydia.

"How do you know? There are many strong students," Lydia said.

Marcus pointed at Julian. "Look at his energy. He's hiding his true strength. Everyone thinks he has 100 circles of energy, but he actually has 230. He's already a third-class warrior."

Lydia stared at him. "Brother Marcus... how can you tell? I can't see energy levels yet."

Marcus realized his mistake. He shouldn't know these things. A ten-year-old who never trained shouldn't be able to sense energy at all.

"I... I read about it in books," he said quickly. "The way someone stands, how they breathe. It's all written in the library books."

Lydia didn't look convinced but didn't push further.

The competition continued. Just as Marcus predicted, Julian dominated every fight. He made it look easy, never showing his full power.

The final match was between Julian and another student named Lucas. Lucas was sixteen and well-liked. Many students cheered for him.

"Julian, show me what you've got!" Lucas shouted, charging forward with his sword.

Julian smiled calmly. He dodged every attack without much effort. It was like an adult playing with a child.

Then Julian's energy suddenly exploded outward. Now everyone could feel his true strength.

"What? He's been hiding his power this whole time?" someone yelled.

Lucas's face went pale. "You're already a third-class warrior?"

"Sorry, Lucas. I wanted to save my strength for the tournament." Julian moved like lightning and struck Lucas's sword away. His own sword stopped at Lucas's throat. "I win."

The crowd was silent, then burst into cheers. Julian had proven himself.

But then an old man's voice cut through the noise. "Octavius! What an exciting event you have here!"

Everyone turned. An old man walked in with several people following him. He wore expensive robes and had an arrogant face. This was Cornelius, the headmaster of the Endless Valley Academy, their rival school.

Grandfather Octavius frowned. "Cornelius, what are you doing here uninvited?"

Cornelius smiled coldly. "I heard about your competition and came to watch. But now that I see your champion, I want to test him. My student Dante will fight your Julian. Unless you're afraid your boy will lose?"

The tension in the arena became thick. Everyone knew about the rivalry between the two academies. Cornelius had a son working in the imperial capital, which made him powerful and arrogant. He often caused trouble.

Grandfather Octavius clenched his fists. He couldn't refuse without looking weak. "Fine. Let them fight."

A young man stepped forward from Cornelius's group. Dante was also fifteen, with cold eyes and a cruel smile. He walked to the arena like he owned it.

Marcus studied Dante carefully. His eyes narrowed. "This is bad."

"What's wrong?" Lydia whispered.

"Dante has 280 circles of energy. He's much stronger than Julian. And look at the way he moves-he's planning to seriously hurt Julian, maybe even cripple him."

"What? We have to warn someone!"

"Who would believe us? I'm just a kid who cleans the grounds."

They watched as Julian stepped into the arena to face Dante. Julian sensed the danger too. His face showed worry.

"Boy, I hope you're ready. I don't hold back," Dante said with a nasty grin.

The fight started. Julian attacked with everything he had, but Dante was clearly superior. He blocked every strike easily, not even using his sword properly. He was toying with Julian.

"Is this the best your academy has?" Dante laughed. "Pathetic!"

He suddenly moved with serious speed. His sword became a blur. Julian tried to defend but was too slow.

Dante's sword cut through Julian's defense and struck his ribs hard. The crack of breaking bones echoed through the arena.

"Ahh!" Julian fell to the ground, coughing blood.

But Dante wasn't done. He raised his sword high, aiming for Julian's shoulder. If that strike landed, Julian would never use his sword arm again.

"Stop!" several people yelled.

But Dante brought his sword down anyway, cruelty in his eyes.

Then something impossible happened. A small figure appeared between Dante and Julian, moving faster than most people could see.

It was Marcus.

He caught Dante's sword with two fingers, stopping it completely. The arena went silent.

Marcus looked up at Dante with cold eyes that seemed far too old for his young face. "That's enough. If you continue, I'll teach you what real pain feels like."

Everyone stared in shock. A ten-year-old boy had just stopped a powerful warrior's attack with two fingers.

Grandfather Octavius leaned forward in his seat, his eyes wide. "Marcus... what have you been hiding?"