It was now almost four weeks in slayer school. Omari now knew a little about all the sigils and monsters, and a bit more of a muscular build. He could do three 400m sprints, 150 weighted pushups, 150 weighted squats, and lastly, a twenty-minute dragon flag.
In the cityscape traversal class, Samson was closing the gap between his and Soren's movement of speed, but right behind Samson, Omari was doing the same. Ignoring the discrepancy in the physical strength and agility of the two, the only thing holding back Omari's growth was that he always ran in the centre of the crowd.
Samson never understood why he did this until one day, he saw toothpaste boy miss a jump but appeared Omari to catch him. At that moment, Samson could swear Omari moved just as fast as him.
In combat training, Omari had learned every punch, kick, knee and elbow, even if he couldn't perform them perfectly. Grappling still perplexed him, though, and his swordplay didn't improve by much because Athena was only good at hand to hand, so that was something he had to teach her.
The only problem was that Omari had made no progress on the research test. He just couldn't think of anything, and reading in the library didn't help. Maybe I was looking at the wrong books, he thought in his bed. But there was nothing he could do now.
The research was due the next day, so to the best of his ability; he tried to sleep and eventually it worked. He opened his eyes and looking at him was his white-haired self and they said, "Death is cold. Everything was forged in Fire."
He woke up. Oh great, now I can't sleep. He looked to his right to see Samson was still not there. Where does he go every night? Not having an answer to this only made him frustrated, but it was in his frustration, he thought of something. Forged in fire, forged in fire! His dream had given him the hint he needed. The answer to the test question was…
"Fire," the professor said. "Fire is the fusion of all elements. It is combustion itself, it diffuses, or let me say spreads, it causes phase change and crystallization and, like dissolving, it breaks down substances."
Omari did a little victory dance in his mind. "It is the only thing, besides a crucifix, that can permanently wound a monster. It is energy and matter itself, and no miracles will ever allow for a human fire controller. But that hasn't stopped monsters, and that is why fiery monsters like the salamander exist. And with that statement, I end one class and begin another."
"For this month's test, you will have a written test on monster physiology." He said before beginning the class. Once the class was done, Omari said to Soren as they walked out of the lecture hall, "I knew it was fire."
Soren chuckled, "I managed to deduce so. What about you, Sam?"
"I told you don't call me Sam," Samson said. "I managed to find a book that spoke about it."
"What! I spent an entire weekend skimming through every book in that library and found nothing," Omari said.
"That's because you were looking through books about the families and sigils instead of looking at the monster guides."
"Oh." Omari smiled, trying to pull it off when from the intercom, a voice announced, "Samson, please come pick up a parcel delivered for you," Samson didn't react—he just walked off.
Soren turned to Omari. "Weird. He doesn't usually get stuff."
Omari shrugged. "Maybe it's… cake?" he joked, though even he didn't fully believe it.
Soon after, Athena caught up to Omari and Soren. "Hey guys."
"Hey Athena," Omari greeted back, "Did you also get fire?"
She just laughed and said, "Let's not talk about that."
"Who wants—"
"Me!" everyone blurted before he could finish.
"—cake," Samson said flatly.
Soren grinned. "Wait—you brought cake? On your birthday?"
"I didn't bring it," Samson muttered, setting the box down. "Someone sent it." He opened it without ceremony. The cake inside was shaped like a 16.
Athena blinked. "Oh... Happy birthday, Samson," she said gently. Samson's face didn't shift. He stared at the cake for a long moment, then turned and walked away. Athena looked down, unsure. "Did I say something wrong?"
Omari sighed. "No... it's just…" He hesitated. "It's not my story to tell, but... Sam's parents were killed by a salamander. On his birthday. He told me once he doesn't like remembering either of those things." Silence settled in over the table. Even Soren stopped smiling.
Athena's voice dropped. "That's why he became a Slayer, isn't it?"
Omari nodded slowly. "He told me he doesn't want to be weak anymore. I think... that day made him feel like he'd never be strong enough."They didn't touch the cake after that.
The evening came quickly. Most students headed back to their dorms, but Samson slipped away into the training grounds. He wasn't alone.
Soren leaned against a support beam, arms crossed, eyes already waiting.
"You know, Sam," he said casually, "Omari wonders where you sneak off to every night. But I've always known."
Samson sighed. "And? Planning to rat me out?"
"No. I'm not him." Soren pushed off the beam, walking toward him. "I just came to ask something." Samson kept his gaze forward. "You know if you fall here," Soren continued, "without the professor around, no one's catching you. This training... it's not safe."
"Neither is being weak," Samson snapped. "And unlike you, I actually work for my strength. You stroll through school like it's already yours."
Soren's jaw clenched, but he didn't bite back. "I don't want to be stronger than you, Sam. I have to be."
"For who? Your dad? The families that hate you? The people who expect you to save the world?" Samson scoffed. "You're not special, Soren. One day, I'll prove it."
Soren clenched his fist, but then noticed he was crushing the thing he was holding: the reason he came here. "I'm not going to beat you bloody on your birthday." As he walked past Samson, he put a letter to his chest and said, "Read it or burn it, I don't care."
When Soren arrived in the dorms, went straight to the showers. No matter how much he tried to suppress it, after what Samson said, he couldn't help but think back to that day.
***
Soren sat cross-legged on the floor, his tiny fingers playing with the edge of his father's cloak. He couldn't have been older than four, but the memory burned brightly, etched in the sparks that had yet to awaken within him. His father knelt before him with a smile.
"Dad," Soren asked, "what was Mom like?"
"Your mother was … amazing. She had a laugh that could brighten even the darkest day and a way of speaking that made people stop and listen. She loved music—she'd hum little tunes while cooking, always off-key, but it made everything feel... alive."
Soren's small face scrunched with curiosity. "Was she strong?"
"Oh, stronger than anyone I've ever known," his father said, his smile deepening. "Not just in strength, but in heart. She could face down storms with a calm that made everyone around her believe it would pass. And her kindness…"
He chuckled softly. "She was kind—so kind it hurt sometimes. She'd see a bird with a broken wing and spend days nursing it back to health."
"Did she love me?"
"More than anything in this world, my little spark. From the moment she knew you were coming, you were her everything. She'd sing to you, even before you were born. She'd dream about the kind of person you'd become."
Soren giggled at that, his little legs swinging in the air. "What's the best thing she ever did?"
His father's gaze grew distant for a moment, his voice dropping to a tender whisper. "Of all the amazing things she did, the greatest by far was giving birth to you."
***
He turned the envelope over in his hand. For a moment, he thought about tearing it. But something stopped him. He opened it. "Happy birthday. Not as a reminder that you were too weak to hold on to your old family… But as proof that you got strong enough to let Omari be your new one."
Samson stared at the words. The city lights blurred below him. He didn't wipe the tear that slipped down his cheek. Back in the dorms, Soren lay in bed, eyes on the ceiling. He heard the door creak open and the sound of footsteps. Samson climbed into his bed. "You ended training early?" Soren asked, surprised.
Samson looked across the room and met his eyes. "For tonight... I feel strong enough, Ren."
"Don't call me that," Soren muttered. But he smiled.
Samson chuckled. "Where's Omari?"
"Oh, I told him you were sneaking off to train. Now he's trying to copy you."
"That idiot." Samson smirked. "Didn't I teach him copying limits your potential?"
Soren shrugged. "He's not trying to be limitless. He just wants enough strength to protect people."
Samson went quiet, then murmured, "I wish I was like him."
"You are."
"No. When I met Omari, I was getting the shit kicked out of me. He stepped in, sliced the tops off their hair, and said if they touched me again, he'd start taking fingers."
Soren laughed. "Sounds like him."
"That day, we became friends. But the next day... the bullies' older brothers came. Beat him bloody. And again—I couldn't do anything. I was too weak." He looked up at the ceiling, his voice barely above a whisper. "That's the day I decided I'd never be weak so that I never need to be protected again."