As Kael hurried back to the manor, his footsteps echoed sharply against the stone pathway. The familiar rhythm of his stride faltered when his gaze snapped toward the ornate clock mounted near the main hall entrance.
5:36 PM.
The digits stared back with quiet cruelty.
The banquet would begin at 7:00 sharp.
For nobles, lateness was not an inconvenience—it was a declaration. And for someone in Kael's position, the wrong declaration could prove fatal. A tight knot formed in his chest as he broke into a run, weaving through the corridors of Arion Manor with practiced urgency.
Servants froze as he passed, bowing hurriedly and stepping aside. Some stared in surprise—Kael Arion was never one to rush. He ignored them all. His mind was already several steps ahead.
Faces he would be forced to greet.Words sharpened into hidden blades.Smiles that meant nothing.
He reached his room and pushed the door open without slowing.
Everything was prepared.
Curtains were drawn wide, allowing the amber glow of the sinking sun to spill across the polished marble floor. At the center of the room, laid out with meticulous care upon the bed, rested his banquet attire.
Dark. Immaculate. Purposeful.
The suit had been tailored to precision, its fabric smooth and heavy with quality. Subtle gold-threaded patterns traced the cuffs and collar—not ostentatious, but unmistakably noble. It wasn't merely formalwear.
It was armor.
Kael stood still for a brief moment, chest rising as he steadied his breathing. The quiet order of the room clashed with the controlled storm in his thoughts. Slowly, deliberately, he exhaled.
There was no time for hesitation.
Tonight was not a celebration.
It was a battlefield dressed in silk and crystal.
Once dressed, the change was immediate.
The suit fit him as though it had been crafted with intimate familiarity. The coat broadened his shoulders, sharpening his silhouette. His lean frame now carried restrained authority—subtle, composed, and dangerous in its stillness.
A crisp white shirt framed his neck, drawing attention to calm, unreadable eyes. Gold accents caught the light only when he moved. His dark hair fell naturally, disciplined but not rigid.
The reflection staring back from the mahogany mirror was no longer a boy racing against time.
It was a noble prepared to stand among monsters.
A faint, cold smirk touched his lips as he adjusted his cuffs.
"…This trash," he murmured softly, eyes narrowing, "has something only a handful of people do."
When he stepped into the corridor, the manor seemed to still.
Maids froze mid-step. Gazes lingered a heartbeat too long before snapping away. Whispered murmurs followed him—soft, instinctive, quickly suppressed.
Kael neither noticed nor cared.
By the time he neared the grand hall, his pace had slowed, his expression settling into practiced indifference. The noise of the manor faded as realization surfaced.
This banquet was not merely ceremonial.
It was a declaration.
Hosted by King Ayther of Valentina, it marked the admission of Princess Henna and Princess Teena into the Silver Spire Academy—an honor that elevated their standing across the entire continent.
Silver Spire was not merely an academy.
It was authority.It was legacy.It was power.
Every influential house had been summoned. Dukes, marquises, high nobles—figures whose names shaped politics and war alike. Attendance was mandatory. Absence would not be forgotten.
And House Arion could not afford to be remembered poorly.
As he passed through the hall, soft laughter reached his ears.
His sister's voice—bright and unguarded—rang among it. His parents spoke as well, their tones warm with restrained pride. The topic was obvious.
The academy.The future.Carefully arranged paths.
Paths that did not include him.
Yet there was no cruelty in their voices. No contempt. Only quiet realism.
Kael felt something unfamiliar settle in his chest.
Not hope.Not resentment.
Understanding.
And beneath it—cold and sharp—resolve.
Outside the manor gates, a sleek black car waited.
Its presence alone spoke volumes. Plain, unmarked, and unmistakably reserved for royalty or their direct envoys.
Kael straightened his posture and approached.
Tonight's banquet would be no ordinary gathering.
As the car moved toward the banquet venue, his thoughts drifted—inevitably—toward power.
Strength.
A way to survive.
More specifically… martial manuals.
Since the beginning of the Second Cataclysm, martial manuals had been developed by humanity to preserve and refine combat techniques that predated the return of mana. Ancient martial arts, once dismissed as obsolete or impractical, had been restructured to account for the mana saturating the world.
Shockingly enough, techniques that were once deemed useless transformed into some of the most powerful combat methods available to humans.
The adaptability of martial techniques to mana control sparked a silent revolution.
Martial manuals became coveted.
And as a result, they began disappearing from public circulation.
Officially, the government restricted access to prevent dangerous techniques from falling into the wrong hands. Unofficially, powerful individuals monopolized them as symbols of authority and control.
Power was never shared freely.
Martial manuals were categorized into Six grades:
One-star being the lowest,and Six-star being the highest.
Each grade represented the potential of the technique once fully mastered, with the gap between grades being as vast as the difference between personal ranks.
However, when choosing a manual, grade alone meant nothing.
Compatibility was everything.
A swordsman practicing a spear-based manual would never unlock its true potential—no matter how high its grade. Talent, affinity, and instinct determined growth far more than raw classification.
Kael's thoughts turned inward.
His status surfaced naturally.
=== Status ===
Name: Kael Arion
Rank: G
Strength: G
Agility: G
Stamina: G-
Intelligence: S
Mana Capacity: G
Luck: ECharm: A+
Affinity: Frost / Time / Light
Profession: [Swordsmanship Lv.1]
His gaze lingered on one line.
Swordsmanship.
Whether coincidence or irony, the protagonist of this world also specialized in swordsmanship.
That knowledge was… advantageous.
Kael knew every major cheat, breakthrough, and inheritance that profession would later unlock. Every opportunity. Every trap.
And among them—
One particular sword art stood out.
As the car slowed near the banquet venue, Kael's expression remained calm.
Inside, his resolve hardened.
He would not challenge fate head-on.
He would outpace it quietly.