Prologue: A Warrior’s Heart

On a warm day in August, a fair-haired girl was born to a coupling of warriors: one, a lithe knight; the other, a brave adventurer. The knight was giddy with joy, gazing upon familiar features. The baby was very similar to the father in appearance, having inherited his albinism. When she opened her eyes, however, her mother, the adventurer, was pleased to see the familiar scarlet shade. “She’ll be a strong girl, I know it,” she said resolutely, even through her exhaustion. Her husband smiled, “I concur wholeheartedly.” The pair decided to name her Calla after the lilies the mother’s mom was so fond of.

The family resided in a quaint village which was directly in the middle between two urban centers called Voyage. Merchant caravans often passed through, but that was the only contact the village regularly had with anyone outside. Her father, Jane, worked as the captain of the village guard, taking care of any thieves or monsters that made their way near, though it was only a troop of 5 members. Her mother, Elara, worked as an adventurer, often travelling across the state to take care of dungeons and elite monsters. Thus, Calla spent most of her childhood under the watchful eye of her grandmother, the one very fond of lilies, whom she called Lana.

Calla spent her younger years running around with other village kids, being active and getting into trouble. Once she was old enough, though, her formal training began. Lana was a strict woman. She was very skilled in the greatsword, just like her daughter, so she saw it fit to teach Calla the art as well. She was strict but not unkind. “If you want to be strong like your parents, dear, you need to be diligent; not a day’s training can go to waste,” she would say, even as she acquiesced and allowed the girl to take a break and read a book. “Rest is as important as training,” Lana would admit, “and knowledge of the world is useful.”

One day, Lana decided to ask Calla, “Do you enjoy learning the greatsword?”

She grinned a big, toothy grin, “Yeah! I wanna be just like mama and papa!” she nodded vigorously. “I wanna fight big monsters!”

Lana smiled, though in her mind she was troubled. She was a wise woman, one not blinded by the adoration Calla’s parents felt, and she could tell Calla was different from other children of warrior families. She wasn’t as unnaturally strong, nor was she particularly gifted in combat. It wasn’t that Calla was bad or weak, no, she trained diligently, it was just that children who would later present as warriors often showed these traits early in their life. The grandmother remembered vividly how easily her daughter had picked up the greatsword and how proud she was. It was very uncommon for children to manifest an affinity different from their parents, so Lana was concerned that the girl wouldn’t have mana at all.

In the country of Edelweiss, when kids turn 16, they manifest their “mana proficiency.” They learn if they’re an exo or an endo, a mage or a warrior, and what element they’re most attuned with; however, in the Laurel Empire, those with mana are considered lower class than nobles. Mages are considered somewhat higher class than warriors due to their role in war. 

(In the Subjugated State of Daphne, where Calla’s family resides, this belief is not adhered to.)

Lana was simply worried she wouldn’t be able to live out her dreams, her precious Calla. “Dear, even if life doesn’t go as you’d like, please keep practicing the sword.” She took the little girl’s hands in hers, “Please promise me this.”

Calla seemed to get some sense of the severity of this oath, her face scrunching seriously, “I promise, Lana!”

. . .

Calla was 15 now and she held true to her promise. Even after her grandmother returned to the city, she kept up her training, never missing a single day unless she was ill. Every morning, she’d be up and swinging her giant sword again, again, and again, then she’d practice the same swing on a dummy again, again and again, and then she’d incorporate the swing into the others in her arsenal. Calla and her father would often spar, and slowly but surely Calla was approaching his level. “It seems your father’s getting rusty!” he’d say, laughing, whenever she managed to get a strike on him. “One day, you’ll spar with your mother, and know just how out-classed the two of us are.”

She smiled, “Who knows, maybe I’ll become an adventurer just like here, off slaying dragons or something all the time.”

Her father patted her shoulder, “Sorry, dear, but your mother’s a demon when it comes to combat. I’ve never met another soul that even comes close,” he sighed, “When I was young, we were at the same bootcamp. She was incredible even back then, easily being the best junior soldier there. She’s the reason I’m as good as I am now, I wanted to be able to compare to her and earn her love,” the man revealed, sitting down on a hay bale, hand still holding up his sword, “But I never did get close. Your mother apparently found my attempts endearing enough, though,” he chuckled half-heartedly. 

Calla patted his back, “That’s so cute, I can’t believe you haven’t told me that story before!” She sat down next to him, taking a swig of water from a flask. “So you two were soldiers?”

“Yes, for Laurel,” he huffed. “As warriors, the empire forces us into military service.”

“Hm,” she hummed, “I’ll have to do that soon, then.”

“What? Don’t tell me you’re already 15, kid!” he shrieked.

“Of course I am!” she groaned, “My 16th birthday’s in two weeks!”

The man looked like he was about to faint, his pale complexion getting impossibly paler, “My Callie Dear’s all grown up!” he cried, hugging her, “How could you do this to your poor ol’ pop, huh?”

Calla rolled her eyes, “Time will always pass, father.” She gazed at the sky, hand on her forehead, shielding her from the late July sun, “Do you… do you think Mom’ll be able to make it this year?”

Her father wrapped his arm over her shoulder, “It’s your 16th, kid! She wouldn’t miss it for the world. You’ll finally get your affinity,” he smiled, patting her shoulder a few times.

She turned her gaze back down, “Thanks, papa.” 

. . .

Calla woke up in a pile of debris and detritus. A pang of pain shot through her head as she opened her eyes, “W… What’s—” she slowly sat up, trying not to irritate the soreness that permeated her entire being. “... going on?”

She had peacefully gone to sleep the morning before her birthday, and now she was sitting in what appeared to be tornado wreckage… but tornadoes were a once in a millennium event in Daphne.

“Calla!” a voice called.

She stood up, stiffly and awkwardly, glancing around trying to find the source. All around her were piles of wood and stone, which used to make up her house. She was so tired.

Crunch. “There you are!” her father stepped over the rubble, grasping her shoulders as he inspected her condition.

“Papa…” she acknowledged, “What happened?”

His lips pressed together into a thin line, “...It’s your 16th, dear. Your affinity manifested.”

“H–Huh? What do you mean, Papa?” her eyes widened, “I did this?” she glanced around at the absolute wreckage that used to be their home.

He gripped her shoulders more tightly, “You’re an exo, Calla. A mage. A… strong one, at that.” He sighed, tension leaving his body as one of his hands left her shoulder, “Let’s get you to the ward, kid.”

Calla was completely stunned, so she could do nothing but follow him. “Me? A mage…” she murmured to herself.