Faul: The Reincarnation

Chapter 11: Knighthood

The next few days passed uneventfully as Faul slowly adjusted to his new surroundings. Alfred and Anna had been nothing but kind, ensuring he had everything he needed. Despite the warmth of their home, Faul remained distant, his mind consumed with thoughts of his missing mother and the strange new world he now had to survive in.

One quiet morning, as Faul stood outside staring into the horizon, Alfred called out to him.

“Faul,” he said, his voice firm but encouraging. “There’s an ongoing selection happening soon. The Knight School and the School of Sorcery from the Kaar Nation will be arriving here any day now. They're scouting for young talents like you to join the knighthood and the sorcery towers.”

Alfred walked closer, lowering his voice a bit. “I believe this could be the easiest way to find your mother. Join one of the academies, grow stronger, and you’ll get closer to the truth. There’s a storm coming, Faul. You need to be ready.”

Faul looked up at him, emotionless. “Until then, Alfred, let me continue training with your people.”

“Don’t call me sir, Faul,” Alfred said with a faint smile. “Call me Alfred.”

“…Alright. Alfred,” Faul replied, though the name felt strange on his tongue.

Later that day, Faul wandered through the compound, taking in the sights and familiarizing himself with the layout. Eventually, he found himself at the entrance of the training field, unsure of where to begin.

“Hey bro! You must be Faul—the new guy,” a cheerful voice called out.

Faul turned to see a boy about his age approaching him, a grin plastered across his face.

“I’m Phil,” the boy said, throwing an arm around Faul’s neck like they’d known each other for years. Without warning, he dragged Faul down the path toward the training grounds, chatting the entire way.

“Man, I’ve been so lonely here. No one to spar with! You have no idea how boring it’s been. Come on, let’s join the others!”

Faul didn’t resist. Phil’s energy was strangely comforting.

As they stepped onto the training field, a loud, cocky voice broke through the air.

“Who’s the new guy, Phil?” asked a flashy-looking boy, his posture radiating pride and entitlement.

Phil's demeanor changed instantly, his voice shrinking. “Uh… Harry, this is Faul.”

Before Phil could say more, Faul interrupted calmly, “You don’t need to introduce me. Just show me where I can get my training equipment.”

He didn’t even glance at Harry.

Harry blinked, stunned. This was the first time anyone had ever ignored him. He wasn’t used to this kind of treatment—not here, not anywhere. As one of the best fighters of his generation, Harry was feared and respected. He came from an influential family known for their mastery of lightning magic. Although Harry’s power wasn’t the strongest in his lineage, among his peers, he was considered exceptional.

*Zap! Zap!*

Tiny sparks of lightning flickered at his fingertips as his irritation grew.

“Somebody needs to be taught a lesson,” Harry muttered, stepping in front of Faul and Phil, his palm glowing faintly with electric energy.

“Harry, please—he didn’t mean to disrespect you,” Phil said quickly, trembling. The fear in his voice was clear. He’d been on the receiving end of Harry’s magic more times than he cared to count.

“Oh, Phil… you know I’m not very forgiving,” Harry sneered. “Tell your friend to bow to me, kowtow, and beg for mercy. Otherwise, he’ll learn the true meaning of pain.”

Faul narrowed his eyes slightly. “And why should I bow and grovel to a weak human?” he said coldly. “Phil, please—just lead the way.”

Gasps erupted around them.

Harry’s jaw clenched. His hand crackled with energy. “You asked for it!”

He dashed forward, his body propelled by lightning-infused speed, aiming a glowing fist at Faul’s chest. Observers watched in awe.

“He’ll be smoked,” someone whispered.

“He’s not even moving…”

“Guess the fear got to him.”

“I thought we’d see a fight…”

Harry grinned. Victory was seconds away.

“Too slow,” Faul said quietly.

In a sudden blur of movement, Faul stepped aside. With minimal effort, he redirected Harry’s momentum, sending him crashing violently into the stone wall at the edge of the training grounds.

*Bang!*

Everyone turned in shock.

“What the…?”

“Did anyone even see him move?”

Faul calmly approached the groaning boy on the ground. He crouched next to Harry’s head, speaking low so only he could hear.

“I told you—I don’t take weak humans seriously. If you ever lay a hand on Phil again, I promise you, you won’t like what I’ll do next.”

With a light pat on Harry’s head, Faul stood and walked away.

The crowd murmured, astonished.

Phil stood frozen, eyes wide, heart racing. He couldn’t believe what he’d just seen. For the first time since losing his older brother, someone had stood up for him.

“Thanks, Faul,” he said quietly, walking to stand beside him.

Faul didn’t respond but gave a slight nod, accepting the gratitude without words.

Behind them, Harry struggled to his feet, dust and rage clinging to his clothes.

“You’ll regret this!” he shouted, furious. “My brother will come for you! You dare lay your filthy hands on me?!”

Faul stopped and turned slightly. “I don’t know who you are, and I don’t care. Your brother, your father—they can all come. It won’t make a difference.”

Without another glance, Faul continued walking with Phil toward the equipment shed, leaving behind a stunned silence.

Whispers followed them, admiration mixed with fear.

Faul Scar had arrived.