The Einsworth estate library occupied the entire southern wing of the second floor, a sprawling collection that had been accumulated over generations of the family's existence. The space was magnificent in its scale and organization. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves constructed from dark wood dominated the room, each one filled with texts bound in leather and cloth. The shelves were arranged in rows with enough space between them to walk comfortably, creating corridors of knowledge that seemed to stretch forever.
Tall windows on the southern wall let in abundant natural light, and several reading areas were scattered throughout the space. Comfortable chairs, small tables, and even a few cushioned alcoves for more private study. The smell of old paper and leather and wood polish filled the air.
A servant had been dusting one of the shelves when I entered. She took one look at my face, dropped her duster, and practically ran from the room.
'Kaine's reputation continues to work in my favor.'
I didn't care about frightening servants. I had more important things to focus on.
I started in the section labeled "Fundamental Principles," pulling down a thick tome titled "Mana Theory and Application: A Comprehensive Introduction." The book was clearly meant for students, with diagrams and explanatory text that broke down complex concepts into understandable pieces.
I settled into one of the reading chairs and began.
Mana, according to the text, was the fundamental energy that permeated all of existence. It flowed through the world like invisible currents, denser in some places than others. Living beings could absorb this ambient mana, store it within their bodies, and then expend it to produce various effects.
The process began with the mana core, a metaphysical organ that formed naturally in all living creatures but developed differently based on genetics, training, and talent. The core served as both storage and processing center for mana.
From the core, mana flowed through pathways that networked throughout the body. These pathways were initially narrow and inefficient, but could be expanded and refined through the practice of mana circulation. The better developed your pathways, the more mana you could channel at once and the less energy was lost in the process.
Mana could be used in three primary ways.
First, internal enhancement. By circulating mana through your body and infusing it into your muscles, bones, and organs, you could temporarily increase physical capabilities. Strength, speed, durability, even healing could all be enhanced through proper mana circulation. This was the foundation of warrior combat styles.
Second, external projection. By gathering mana and shaping it with intent, you could create effects outside your body. Fireballs, ice spears, lightning bolts. All magic fell into this category. The complexity and power of what you could create depended on your mana capacity, control, and understanding of the elemental principles you were manipulating.
Third, enchantment and artifice. Mana could be imbued into objects, either temporarily or permanently, to grant them special properties. Weapons that never dulled. Armor that was lighter than it should be. Artifacts that produced specific effects when activated. This was the rarest and most technical use of mana, requiring both massive energy reserves and exceptional craftsmanship.
The text went on to explain that an individual's talent determined how easily they could manipulate mana and what specific effects they had natural affinity for. Someone with a fire talent would find it vastly easier to create flames than ice. Someone with an enhancement talent would excel at physical augmentation but struggle with external projection.
'My Chaos Element talent is supposed to eventually let me use all elements, but right now I can't use any of them. I'm starting from zero despite having a Mythical-tier talent.'
It was humbling, but also clarifying. Power was a journey, not a destination. Having the potential for greatness meant nothing without the work to realize it.
I set that book aside and pulled down another, this one titled "A Modern History of the Four Continents." The cover was newer, the binding less worn, suggesting it had been written relatively recently.
I opened to the first chapter and began to read.
The world, I learned, was called Elyndor. It consisted of four major continents, each separated by vast oceans that were themselves filled with dangers both natural and unnatural.
The human continent, Aetheria, was the largest landmass. It occupied roughly forty percent of the world's total land area and stretched from frozen tundras in the north to tropical jungles in the south. The climate varied dramatically by region, but most of the population was concentrated in the temperate zones where agriculture was most productive.
Aetheria was divided into five kingdoms, each with its own government, culture, and traditions. Yet despite their differences, the five kingdoms maintained a formal alliance that had existed for over two centuries.
The Kingdom of Aldoria, where the Einsworth family held power, was the northernmost of the five. It was known for its martial tradition, producing some of the strongest warriors in human history. The kingdom's capital, Valoreth, was home to the royal palace and the Continental Academy.
The Kingdom of Brevia lay to the east of Aldoria. It was a merchant kingdom, rich in natural resources and blessed with excellent ports. Brevian traders could be found in every corner of the human continent, and their economic influence often rivaled the military might of their neighbors.
The Kingdom of Castern occupied the western coast. It was the most magically advanced of the five kingdoms, home to the largest concentration of mages and magical researchers. Their capital city, Luminara, housed the Tower of Arcane Studies, where the continent's most talented spellcasters gathered.
The Kingdom of Draven sprawled across the southern plains. It was an agricultural powerhouse, the breadbasket that fed much of the continent. But don't mistake farmers for weaklings, the text warned. Draven's knights were renowned for their endurance and their mastery of earth magic.
Finally, the Kingdom of Elenor occupied the central highlands. It was the smallest kingdom by territory but served as the diplomatic heart of the alliance. Elenor's capital, Concordia, was neutral ground where representatives from all five kingdoms could meet without fear of political maneuvering.
The alliance between the five kingdoms was formalized through several institutions. The most visible was the Continental Academy, located in Valoreth. Every noble family from every kingdom was expected to send their heirs to the academy at age sixteen. The stated purpose was to foster cooperation and build relationships that would last into adulthood.
'But it's also a hostage system,' I realized. 'By sending their heirs to a shared location, the kingdoms create mutual vulnerability. No one can afford to betray the alliance too egregiously when their children are surrounded by the children of their would-be enemies.'
The academy operated on a three-year program. Students entered at sixteen and graduated at nineteen, assuming they survived. Because survival wasn't guaranteed. The academy's curriculum included not just academic study but combat training, dungeon delving, and supervised missions into dangerous territory.
Upon graduation, all students were expected to serve a minimum of two years in the Continental Army, a joint military force drawn from all five kingdoms. This army existed for a single purpose: to combat the demon threat.
Which brought me to the other three continents.
The elven continent, Sylvandis, lay far to the east across the Azure Ocean. The elves were isolationist by nature, their society organized around a complex system of noble houses and ancient traditions. They rarely interacted with other races except through carefully controlled trade agreements. According to the text, the last time an elven ambassador had visited Aetheria was sixty years ago.
The Demi-human continent, Feralis, occupied the southern hemisphere beyond the Storm Strait. Its inhabitants were a diverse collection of races that combined humanoid and animal traits. Lion-folk, wolf-tribes, bear clans, and dozens of others. They were organized into tribal confederations rather than formal kingdoms, with power flowing to whoever could prove themselves strongest.
Demi-humans valued strength and honor above all else. They fought among themselves constantly, but when external threats arose, they could unite with terrifying efficiency. Several times throughout history, Demi-human warbands had crossed the Storm Strait to aid humanity against demon invasions, fighting not out of altruism but because they saw the demons as worthy opponents.
And then there was Malachar. The demon continent.
The text about Malachar was notably shorter and significantly grimmer than the others. The demons were expansionist by nature, driven by some fundamental cultural or biological imperative to conquer and subjugate. Every few decades, sometimes more frequently, they would launch invasions across the Crimson Sea, attempting to establish footholds on the other continents.
These invasions weren't random raids or border skirmishes. They were coordinated campaigns involving millions of demons, led by powerful demon lords who commanded magic and military might on a scale that rivaled entire kingdoms.
Humanity had been fighting the demons for as long as recorded history existed. Sometimes the battles were small, isolated conflicts at the border. Sometimes they were apocalyptic wars that threatened the survival of the entire human race.
This was where hero candidates entered the picture.
I pulled down another book, this one specifically about hero candidates and their role in history. The text was dense and academic, but the core message was clear.
Hero candidates were individuals who awakened with talents of extraordinary power and potential. They appeared during times of crisis, when the balance of power shifted too far in one direction. They were fate's response to existential threats, champions raised up to push back against the darkness.
Not all hero candidates were heroes in the traditional sense. Some were violent. Some were cruel. Some pursued their own agendas with little regard for the greater good. But all of them possessed power that could shape the course of history.
Abel had been one of them. One of five current hero candidates in the human kingdoms.
And I had killed him.
The full weight of that crime settled over me as I sat in the quiet library. It wasn't just murder. It wasn't just fratricide. It was sabotage on a cosmic scale. By killing Abel, Kaine had reduced humanity's chances of surviving the next demon invasion. He'd weakened the entire alliance, endangered millions of people, all for petty jealousy and personal spite.
'No wonder the system cursed me. No wonder I got the Cursed and Unfortunate title. I broke one of the fundamental rules of this world.'
I forced myself to keep reading, to push past the guilt and focus on understanding.
The five human kingdoms coordinated their defense against demons through the Continental Army. This military force drew soldiers from all five kingdoms, training them in combined arms tactics and deploying them to the front lines. The army was commanded by a rotating council of generals, one from each kingdom, with decisions made by majority vote.
In Aldoria specifically, military power was concentrated in four ducal houses. Each duke commanded their own private army in addition to contributing troops to the royal forces. The four duchies were Einsworth, Ravencroft, Blackwood, and Silverstone.
Of the four, only two were considered the true backbone of Aldoria's military might: Einsworth and Ravencroft.
The Einsworth family specialized in speed and precision combat. Our signature technique, the Flash God saber style, emphasized overwhelming enemies before they could respond. We produced warriors who struck like lightning, ending fights in seconds rather than minutes.
The Ravencroft family, by contrast, specialized in defensive warfare and siege breaking. Their warriors were tanks, capable of withstanding punishment that would kill normal soldiers and then counterattacking with devastating force. They produced the kingdom's best defensive specialists and battlefield commanders.
The other two ducal families were powerful but more limited in scope. Blackwood focused on reconnaissance and skirmishing, producing excellent scouts and archers. Silverstone specialized in magical combat, training battle mages who could rain destruction from a distance.
'So the Einsworth family is one of the two pillars of Aldoria's strength. Which means expectations for me are going to be absurdly high.'
I was expected to represent not just my family but one of the fundamental military traditions of the entire kingdom. At the academy, surrounded by heirs from all five kingdoms, I would be judged against that standard.
'And they all know what Kaine was. A disappointment. A screw-up who abandoned his training and threw himself into self-destruction.'
The only thing that might earn me any credibility was the saber currently hanging at my hip.
I pulled down one final book, this one from a restricted section that required moving a ladder to reach. The cover was unmarked except for the Einsworth family crest stamped in gold leaf. I opened it carefully and found that it was a manual.
The Flash God Technique. Our family's signature combat style.
The introduction explained that the technique had been developed seven generations ago by the then-current head of the Einsworth family, a Master-ranked warrior named Lucian Einsworth. He had observed that most sword fights were decided in the first few exchanges, that the warrior who struck first and fastest usually won.
From this observation, he developed a combat philosophy built entirely around speed. Not just physical speed, though that was important. Speed of decision-making. Speed of reaction. Speed of technique execution. The goal was to end fights before they truly began, to strike so quickly and precisely that opponents never got a chance to mount a defense.
The Flash God Technique consisted of twelve forms, each one a self-contained combat sequence that could be adapted to different situations.
Forms one through seven were the foundation. They could be learned through normal training, though mastery required years of dedicated practice. These forms focused on footwork, drawing techniques, basic slashes and thrusts, and the fundamental mana circulation patterns that allowed warriors to enhance their speed.
But forms eight through twelve were different. They required something more than just training and talent.
They required the Einsworth Family Saber.
The manual explained that the legendary blade served as both catalyst and key. Its unique properties resonated with specific mana frequencies that enabled techniques impossible with normal weapons. Without the saber, forms eight through twelve were literally impossible to execute. The mana wouldn't flow correctly. The techniques wouldn't manifest.
For over a century, since the saber had been lost, the Einsworth family had been incomplete. We could teach the foundation, but not the pinnacle. We could produce good warriors, but not legendary ones.
'Until now.'
I looked down at the blade hanging at my hip, feeling its weight and presence through our soul bond.
'I have what seven generations of Einsworth heirs couldn't obtain. The key to unlocking our family's complete legacy.'
The question was whether I could actually use it. Having the key meant nothing if you didn't know how to turn it.