Chapitre 30: The Birth of Strength (Eirlys Arcwright’s)
I was born into one of the most prestigious families in the kingdom, the Arcwrights.
My father, Alaric Arcwright, was a renowned Guild master.
My mother, Eleana Arcwright, was equally formidable—a mage whose mastery on Healing magic was unparalleled.
From the moment I could walk, My life was structured around one core principle:
"STRENGTH IS EVERYTHING."
At the age of four, I began my formal education, not with stories or lullabies, but with rigorous lessons on hierarchy, discipline, and the importance of power.
"The world respects the strong, Eirlys. The weak are nothing but stepping stones for those who rise above." Her father Alaric said.
.
At six, I was thrust into physical and magical training.
Each day began before dawn with sword drills in the courtyard, supervised by my father.
Any sign of fatigue or complaint was met with stern reprimands.
"Your enemies won't care if you're tired, Eirlys," Alaric said. "If you can't overcome this, you don't deserve the Arcwright name."
The afternoons were dedicated to magic, where her mother took over.
I quickly learned that my mother's patience was just as short as her father's.
Mistakes were met with icy stares and words.
"Precision and control, Eirlys. If you lack either, you are nothing more than a liability."
.
One day, around eighth year, I was sparring with a servant's child who had been allowed to train alongside me.
The boy, Thomas, was clumsy and timid, barely able to hold his wooden sword properly.
I defeated him within moments, knocking him to the ground with a single strike.
I expected praise from my Instructor, but instead, he scowled.
"Again," he commanded.
I obeyed, though I didn't understand the point.
With each round, the boy grew more hesitant, his strikes weaker.
Finally, after the fifth match, he refused to stand up.
"I can't," Thomas whispered, tears streaming down his face.
Before Eirlys could react, her instructor stepped forward.
"If you can't fight, then you don't belong here."
With a single gesture, he dismissed Thomas from the training grounds. That evening, Eirlys overheard her Instructor speaking to her father.
"Weakness like that has no place in this world. If Eirlys ever shows such frailty, she will disgrace our name."
Those words stayed with her, carving themselves into her mind.
To be weak was to be worthless.
.
At ten, Eirlys witnessed another event.
During a banquet, a lower-ranking noble approached her father, begging for aid to defend his land from raiders.
Alaric's response was curt:
"If you can't defend what's yours, then you don't deserve to keep it."
Eirlys watched him as he left in shame.
Later, when she asked her father why he didn't help.
"Helping the weak only delays the inevitable. If they cannot stand on their own, they will always rely on others. Strength is the only thing that matters, Eirlys. Never forget that."
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Eirlys's own journey was no easier. Her parents pushed her to her limits, ensuring she never had the chance to falter.
When she fell during a duel or failed a magical exercise, there was no comfort, only harsh lessons.
One particularly grueling day, after failing to summon an elemental spell, her mother said coldly:
"Do you think the Arcwright name was built on failure? If you can't succeed, Eirlys, then perhaps you're no better than those weaklings you despise."
Those words ignited a fire within her.
From that day on, Eirlys vowed never to be weak, never to give her parents a reason to doubt her strength.
But along with that vow came an unshakable belief: — the weak were nothing more than obstacles.
.
Years later, when Eirlys came back from academy.
She met Caspian, her brother, he was only 4 years old when she left for academy —there are holiday between semestes but —Eirlys thinks journey back to her home would effect her growth.
After seeing her brother after so long her reaction was instant and visceral.
To her, he embodied everything she had been taught to hate.
He was small, fragile, and untrained—a child with no strength to speak of.
She dismissed him immediately, barely acknowledging his existence.
'Why bother with someone who will never amount to anything?' she thought.
Her interactions with him were scarce and cold, her attitude.
To Eirlys, Caspian was nothing more than a weakling, a burden unworthy of her time or attention.
He was Frail, timid, and utterly devoid of the strength their family prized, he was the perfect target for their siblings, Eirak and Jaxar.
Whenever Caspian ventured to the training grounds or tried to join their lessons, it ended the same way: humiliation and pain.
Eirlys watched it all from the sidelines, her expression cold and detached.
"If he wants to stop being weak, he should fight back," she thought.
"It's not my problem."
.
One evening, after a particularly intense training session, Eirlys returned to the manor, sweat clinging to her brow.
She intended to head straight to her room, but a commotion near the courtyard caught her attention.
Stepping closer, she saw her brothers, Eirak and Jaxar, standing over Caspian.
His small frame was curled on the ground, his hands weakly trying to shield his face as they delivered blows without mercy.
"Pathetic," Jaxar sneered, kicking Caspian's side.
"You think you can train with us? Stay in your place, runt."
"Yeah," Eirak added. "Stop embarrassing yourself. You'll never be one of us."
Eirlys felt a flicker of discomfort but quickly pushed it aside.
She turned to leave, deciding it wasn't her concern.
Caspian wasn't her responsibility.
But the next morning, as she passed through the corridors, she stumbled upon him again.
He was lying in the corner of the hallway, bruised and bloodied, barely conscious.
Her first instinct was to walk away.
But as she turned, her body froze. Something unexplainable gripped her, and before she realized it, her legs moved on their own.
She knelt beside him, her heart pounding as she saw the state he was in.
"You're so useless," she muttered under her breath, though her hands carefully lifted him.
As she carried him to his room, Caspian stirred weakly in her arms.
His face was pale, and his lips trembled as he mumbled something.
"Why...?" His voice was so faint she almost missed it.
Eirlys glanced down.
'Why what?' she thought, but before she could dismiss it, he spoke again.
"Why do they hate me...?" he murmured, his voice breaking.
"What did I do wrong...? I just wanted to train... I don't want to be weak... but every time I try... they always..."
His words trailed off as unconsciousness claimed him again, but they struck Eirlys like a blade to the heart.
She stopped in her tracks, her mind reeling.
"I just wanted to train... I don't want to be weak..."
Eirlys stared at his bruised face, and for the first time, she felt something other than disdain for her brother.
She felt shame.
'They've beaten him down so much he doesn't even believe he deserves to be strong,' she realized. 'And I've done nothing to stop it.'
Her grip on him tightened, and a strange resolve took hold of her.
After laying him down in his bed, Eirlys sat by his side, her gaze fixed on him.
'This isn't his fault,' she thought.
"No one ever taught him. No one ever gave him a chance. And I... I let this happen."
She clenched her fists.
"I'll help you," she whispered, though he couldn't hear her.
"I'll make sure they never treat you like this again."
"You don't deserve this."
But what she didn't know was that these were the last words her brother would ever speak.
The boy lying before her was already gone.
_______
(A/N: I know your frustration regarding MC sufferings and repeation of Real Caspian sufferings. but this was the Last chapter in which MC had suffered — in future he will suffer Little bit —not like past like someone is beating him and he just completely powerless and lying,)
Well I am new here so mistakes are meant to happen I will try my best in future arcs.
And Thanks for your support.
Cadeaux
-- Cadeau
reçu État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
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