Lars Mertens was no ordinary mage. His magic attribute was strange, even by the diverse standards of the Clover Kingdom, and today, he was once again setting out on the journey to become a Magic Knight—just like many teenagers before him. But unlike most, this wasn't his first attempt. It wasn't even his second. Lars was attempting to succeed where he had already failed twice, and that thought gnawed at him as he prepared for the exam. The stakes weren't just higher—they felt personal.
Chapter 1: Third Time's the Charm
He was a tall lad, standing at 6'1", with the unmistakable look of someone determined to prove himself. His chestnut-brown hair, perpetually tousled no matter how much he tried to tame it, fell in unruly waves that framed his sharp features. His bright blue eyes, once innocent and filled with youthful ambition, now gleamed with a hard-earned edge, a mixture of resolve and the stinging memories of past failures. Lars didn't carry himself like a wide-eyed hopeful anymore. He had seen enough disappointment to know what it felt like to be cast aside, but also enough to make him stubbornly press forward.
For this journey, Lars had chosen his clothing carefully. He wasn't just setting out to take another test; he was marching toward his destiny, and he would look the part. His dark navy tunic was finely crafted, the silver embroidery along the sleeves shimmering softly in the morning light. It was both practical and elegant, a nod to his noble roots even if those roots had long since withered. Over the tunic, he wore a light leather vest, offering some protection without hindering his movement. His trousers, snug but flexible, allowed for quick reactions, and his knee-high polished brown leather boots clicked quietly against the stone floor as he paced. Draped over his shoulders was a dark blue cloak, fastened with a silver clasp bearing his family's crest—a symbol of the Mertens name that had once commanded respect but now served as a reminder of what they had lost.
But this wasn't just about appearances. Lars' heart was heavy, weighed down by the sting of past failures. He had already failed the Magic Knights Selection Exam twice. The first time, he had felt unprepared, overwhelmed by the sheer talent and power of his competition. He had been nervous, unsure of himself. The second time, he had trained hard, focused on his physical strength, convinced that brute force would carry him through. But that too had ended in bitter defeat. Each failure had carved deeper wounds into his pride, each rejection a reminder of his inability to live up to the lofty expectations placed on him—expectations largely set by his sister, Frida Mertens.
As Lars finished packing for the three-day journey to the Royal Capital, his mother, ever the quiet observer, stepped into his room. She didn't say anything at first, just stood there in the doorway, her arms crossed, watching him. Lars paused, feeling her eyes on him, and turned to meet her gaze. She looked at him with a mixture of concern and weariness, the way a mother does when she doesn't know how to help but wishes she could. For a moment, the room was silent, save for the soft rustle of his cloak as he fastened it.
"What am I going to do with you?" she finally said, her voice quiet but full of emotion.
Lars didn't answer. He didn't need to. They both knew what this journey meant. It wasn't just about him passing the exam—it was about reclaiming something his family had lost long ago. His father had been exiled to the Forsaken Realm for marrying a commoner, a scandal that stripped their noble house of its status. Lars was born into a disgraced family, and despite their noble blood, they lived far from the capital, on the outskirts of society. The Mertens name, once proud, had become synonymous with failure.
At least, until Frida came along.
Frida Mertens, Lars' older sister, was a prodigy. From a young age, her Crystal Magic had been the talk of the kingdom. But it wasn't just any Crystal Magic—Frida wielded Amethyst Magic, a rare and powerful form of Crystal Magic that allowed her to control violet-hued crystals with precision and versatility. By the time she was 15, she had passed the Magic Knights Selection Exam with flying colors and was offered a place in every squad. She chose the Silver Eagles, the prestigious squad known for its elite members, and quickly rose through the ranks. Now, at 19, she was the Vice-Captain of the Silver Eagles—a position of power and influence that Lars could only dream of.
Frida's success was a blessing and a curse. It restored some honor to the Mertens name, but it also cast a long shadow over Lars. Everywhere he went, he was compared to his sister. People expected him to follow in her footsteps, to be just as brilliant, just as powerful. But Lars' magic wasn't like Frida's. He didn't have the raw power or the finesse of her Amethyst Magic. Instead, Lars had Mind Magic—an attribute that was as strange as it was misunderstood.
Mind Magic wasn't just about raw strength or high reserves of mana, things Lars didn't necessarily have. It was about mental fortitude, control, and focus. And for Lars, that was the problem. His mind had always been his greatest enemy, which he understood was quite ironic. He had struggled with self-doubt, insecurity, and the overwhelming pressure to succeed. Every failure had chipped away at his confidence, making him question whether he was truly capable of becoming a Magic Knight. But something had changed after his second failure. He had realized that physical strength wasn't enough. His magic wasn't about brute force—it was about mastering his mind.
So Lars had spent the past month in intense meditation, honing his mental strength. He had cut himself off from the outside world, focusing solely on controlling his thoughts, his emotions, his mana. He had emerged from that month stronger than ever, his magic sharper, more refined. He could feel the difference in his mana, the way it flowed through him with newfound clarity. This time, he wasn't going to fail.
With his grimoire in hand and his broom beneath him, Lars was ready. As he stepped out of his home and into the crisp morning air, he felt a surge of determination swell in his chest. The road to the Royal Capital stretched out before him, bathed in the soft golden light of dawn.
"I'll show them," he whispered to himself, his voice steady but laced with an undercurrent of emotion. "One day, I, Lars Mertens, will become the Wizard King."
And with that, he kicked off the ground, soaring into the sky, the wind whipping through his hair as he flew toward his destiny. This time, things were going to be different. He could feel it. His failures had only made him stronger, and now, he was ready to prove that he wasn't just a boy from a family of disgraced nobles—he was Lars Mertens, a mage with a will as unbreakable as his magic.