The training ground was silent, save for the soft whisper of wind brushing through the grass.
A six-year-old boy lay flat on the dirt, arms stretched above his head, a wooden sword discarded beside him.
His small chest rose and fell steadily, sweat glistening on his brow while dust clung to his clothes after hours of relentless practice. Around him, the training targets bore the marks of his effort—splintered wood, dented armor, and chipped posts.
Six years had passed.
The first two were the worst.
All you could do was lie down, cry, eat, and… shit yourself. After turning two, you could walk on your own, clumsily but you were still locked inside your room until the age of four.
Once I turned five, I finally gained some freedom and ran through every corner of the castle, taking my revenge by playing countless pranks on everyone.
Childish? Yes. But I was bored.
After hours of begging, they finally allowed me to train. By now, I knew Ravenhold Castle like the back of my hand.
My swordsmanship had reached the novice level—probably the lowest rank someone could have and still be called a swordsman. Still, considering I was only six, it wasn't a small achievement.
Of course, after causing so much trouble for my parents and the castle staff, I was no longer allowed to wander freely. Two Blade-Rank soldiers were always stationed beside me.
Officially, they were there to "stop me from making trouble."
But I wasn't stupid.
I knew the real reason.
They were protecting me—from assassins who couldn't stand the idea of House Ravenor growing stronger.
Because of my family's influence, our enemies couldn't pressure us politically or weaken us openly.
After all, we guarded the empire's western border from yearly monster hordes and demon invasions.
Our duchy was the empire's shield.
And since they couldn't strike us directly, they chose the only option left.
Kill the future duke.
Replace House Ravenor.
Even though our lands bordered the Demon Lands, those territories were rich in magic stones and core crystals, resources rich enough to tempt anyone.
Ah… I almost forgot.
Today was the day Father would depart for the border to face this year's monster horde—and the day we would meet the family of the girl who caused Kael so much trouble in the original story.
I let out a slow sigh.
This was going to be a long day.
As Kael lay lost in thought, a presence approached from behind.
He snapped out of his reverie but didn't rise, only turning his head slightly. He knew immediately who it was—only Master Joran, his sword instructor, could move through the training grounds without announcing himself.
"Young master," Master Joran said calmly, "what are you doing here? The Duke and Duchess are waiting in the Great Hall. The Valemont Duchess has arrived with her youngest child—around your age.
Perhaps you could become friends with the girl."
At the mention of the girl, a chill crept through Kael's spine. His mind flickered toward the grim future he remembered.
Still… what could a six-year-old girl really do?
Kael scowled. "Who wants to be friends with a girl? I don't care about the Valemonts! Father and Mother are already welcoming them. I don't need to be there."
Master Joren knelt slightly to meet Kael's gaze, his voice firm. "That may be true. But you must say goodbye to your father before he leaves."
Kael crossed his arms, his voice rising in protest. "Why does Father have to go to the border? There are so many strong soldiers here. Why can't they go instead?"
He knew the answer. But for now, he had to act like a child.
Master Joren sighed softly, a shadow passing over his face. "Ten years ago, the Duke did not go. That year, an A-Rank monster led the horde. Too many soldiers died… it nearly broke the duchy."
Kael's eyes widened. "All… all because he stayed?"
Master Joren nodded, his voice low. "Since then, he has gone every year. There may be another A-Rank monster this time—and only your father possesses the A-Rank skill capable of stopping it in there."
Kael swallowed. "But… what if something happens to him?"
Master Joren placed a gentle hand on Kael's shoulder. "That is why you must see him off. A son must watch over his father in spirit—even when he cannot yet protect him with his sword."
Father's A-Rank skill didn't just protect the duchy.
It protected the empire.
In this world, every person was born with a unique skill—a manifestation of their innate power. A system existed that revealed one's mana pool and skill rank. Everyone possessed ten slots, but nine remained empty at birth.
Only at age ten did a person awaken their unique skill and gain access to the system.
Additional skills could be learned through Core Stones—crystallized remains of monsters. They came in different colors and shapes, each representing a rank. The higher the rank, the rarer—and more powerful—the stone.
I wondered what rank I would awaken.
In the original story, I awakened an A-Rank skill: Sword Master.
Among humans, it made me faster, stronger, and more precise than nearly anyone else. I could wield a blade as if it were part of my body. I could read an enemy's movements before they acted.
But then… there were the Summons.
Heroes from another world.
Every one of them possessed at least one S-Rank skill.
Compared to them, my Sword Master was nothing more than a soldier with a wooden sword facing an enemy wielding a holy weapon.
The corridors of Ravenhold Castle were quiet as Kael followed Master Joren. Each step echoed softly against polished stone, while Kael's thoughts churned.
He didn't want to meet the Valemont girl.
He didn't want polite smiles or shallow greetings.
But refusal wasn't an option.
The doors opened, revealing a hall bathed in sunlight. The Valemont Duchess stood inside, her youngest daughter beside her—a girl no older than Kael, watching with curious eyes.
Selara guided him forward. "Kael, this is the Valemont family. Show them courtesy."
Kael straightened. "Hello. Welcome to Ravenhold."
The Duchess inclined her head gracefully. "Thank you, Lady Selara. We are honored to meet your son. I hear he is quite skilled with a sword."
Kael ducked his head, cheeks warming. I'm just six…
Selara's subtle nod urged him to lift his chin. "Thank you," he murmured.
The girl stepped closer.
Kael froze, violet eyes flicking between her and his mother. Slowly, he gave a small nod. The girl mirrored it.
"Perhaps… we can be friends," she said softly.
He forced a polite smile. "Maybe."
Selara guided Kael beside Darian. His father's armor gleamed faintly in the light. Despite the weight of his coming departure, Darian bent and brushed Kael's hair back.
"Kael," he said quietly, "watch over our home in spirit while I am away."
Kael's voice trembled but held firm. "Farewell, Father… be safe."
Darian turned to the Valemont family. "Duchess Valemont, thank you for visiting Ravenhold. May this meeting mark continued friendship between our Houses."
"The honor is ours," the Duchess replied.
With a final bow, Darian departed.
Selara placed a hand on Kael's shoulder. "That is how to show courtesy. Learn from your father."
As they stepped outside, sunlight brushed Kael's face, and the wind carried the scent of gardens.
Father is leaving… and I must stay behind.