"You’re supposed to coat the blade with a thin layer of sharp aura so you can slice cleanly in one go. But so far, not bad." a soft, calm voice echoed behind me.

  I turned, already recognizing the tone.

  Elena Moonvale stood there, her crimson-red hair cascading in loose waves to her waist, lazily gathered behind her back. Her sharp, fiery red eyes were softened by a smile that always seemed to carry quiet amusement. A knight of House Blackwood.

  "I know that," I replied, shaking my head. "I just… I still can’t seem to form it properly."

  She laughed lightly, the kind of laugh that made it seem like the world’s problems were a bit less serious. "That’s normal. It’s only been two months since you became a novice. Even I couldn’t manage it until my third month."

  I sighed, scratching the back of my head before managing a faint smile. "I guess that’s true."

  True, maybe. But she conveniently left out one critical detail.

  She was a prodigy.

  A one in ten thousand kind of prodigy.

  Elena Moonvale was born a commoner, a girl from some nondescript village that probably didn’t even have a proper name on the map. Yet at the impossible age of five, she had reached Singularity—the term people in Albion used for the moment someone became a novice.

  According to Old Althus, among commoners, only one in a thousand could ever hope to reach that point. One in a thousand, born with enough potential, willpower, or luck to break through the threshold.

  But five years old? That was almost unheard of.

  Most commoners who achieved Singularity did so at fifteen or sixteen, the tail end of their youth.

  Even then they often found themselves unable to compete against noble children who had access to better training, resources, and magical guidance.

  Nobles reached Singularity much earlier twelve sometimes or even younger giving them a head start that ensured they outpaced their common born peers.

  Elena defied all of that.

  At five, she was already a novice. It put her on the same level of the most talented noble-born children.

  I have never met anyone who can compare to her talent in this generation...maybe eric.

  But Eric doesn't count. That bastard is a singular born—a monster among monsters.

  Suddenly elena interrupted me with a smile "Well, it's your training time! Prepare your sword and try not to get hit by me for a while. I'll go easy on you~"

  The moment Elena smiled with that serene, all-too-pleased expression, I knew I was in trouble. Her crimson spear materialized effortlessly in her hand, its blood-red aura pulsing faintly, almost as if mocking me.

  "Wait—give me a second!" I managed to yell, scrambling back a few steps.

  She tilted her head innocently. "I *did* give you a second. Ready or not…"

  She didn’t even finish her sentence before the first strike came.

  *Whoosh!*

  The sharp spear whizzed past my head, close enough that I could practically feel it slice the air next to my ear. I ducked instinctively, rolling awkwardly to the side, because when a death-stick is aimed at your skull, dignity doesn’t matter.

  "Not bad!" she called cheerfully. "But you’ll need more than luck."

  Another strike. This time, she didn’t throw it—she lunged.

  Her spear shot forward with ridiculous speed, aiming straight for my gut. I sidestepped, my feet skidding slightly on the grass, and slapped the spear away with the flat of my sword. The vibration rattled my entire arm.

  "That’s easy?!" I shouted, half-panicked as I stumbled backward.

  She shrugged with a smile, spinning her spear in an effortless flourish. "You’re still alive, aren’t you? That counts for something."

  Before I could fully reset my stance, she lunged again, faster this time. The spear tip jabbed toward me in sharp, precise thrusts, forcing me to block and retreat, block and retreat—until there was no more space left to retreat to. My back hit a tree, and for a heartbeat, I froze.

  "Oh dear," Elena teased, slowing down just enough to let me breathe. "Trapped already?"

  "Only because you cheated," I panted. "Who fights someone who isn’t ready?"

  "You’re lucky I’m being nice."

  And then she wasn’t nice anymore.

  Elena closed the gap in a single step. I threw myself to the ground just as the spear slammed into the tree behind me with a loud *thunk*. Bits of bark exploded everywhere. If I’d been standing, that would’ve been me.

  I rolled to my feet, my sword gripped tightly, and turned to face her. She had already freed the spear and was waiting patiently, her eyes practically glowing with amusement.

  "Alright, alright," I muttered, trying to catch my breath. "Let’s be civil. Maybe a little less trying to murder me and more...teaching me?"

  Her response was to stab forward again.

  I parried. The strike sent a jolt through my shoulder, but I managed to hold my ground this time. A small victory. For about half a second. Because then Elena twisted her spear, disarming my balance completely, and I had to jump to the side like a startled cat.

  "Keep your stance tighter, Nathaniel," she said calmly, as if she wasn’t actively trying to skewer me. "And don’t hesitate. You hesitate, you die."

  "I’m not hesitating!" I snapped, though I was. "I’m just…"

  She laughed—an actual laugh that somehow felt both sweet and terrifying. Then she *disappeared*. Not literally, but she moved so fast it felt like it. One second she was a few feet away, the next she was in front of me, her spear aimed low.

  I barely blocked. The impact numbed my hands, and my knees buckled. My sword’s edge sparked against her spear. I grit my teeth, pushing back with everything I had.

  "This isn’t fair," I growled.

  She was like...two levels higher than me.

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  "Life isn’t fair," she quipped, and then kicked me square in the chest.

  I hit the ground hard, coughing as the air was knocked out of me.

  For a moment, I just lay there, staring up at the sky and listening to the faint sound of Elena tapping the butt of her spear against the ground.

  "Do you yield?" she called out playfully.

  I groaned, dragging myself up to my elbows. "What’s the point of yielding if you’re just going to beat me anyway?"

  She grinned. "Good answer."

  I wasn’t sure if it was the right answer, but it was enough to buy me a few seconds to scramble back to my feet. My body ached, my arms felt like lead, but I lifted my sword again anyway.

  Elena tilted her head. "You’re persistent. I’ll give you that."

  She laughed again, twirling the spear effortlessly as she stepped forward, ready to continue. "Well then, let’s see how long that can keep you alive."

  And just like that, she lunged again.

  The fight didn’t get any easier after that. I was either dodging, blocking, or running for my life.

  Until a sudden voice cut through the tension.

  "Oh? Your reactions have improved, Nate!"

  I turned my head just enough to spot Eric strolling toward us. Tall, annoyingly handsome, with that effortless charm that practically dripped from his smile.

  Elena froze mid-strike, her spear stopping just an inch from turning my head into a memory.

  "L-lord Eric…" she stammered, her usual calm demeanor shattering into pieces as her face turned a shade of crimson that matched her hair.

  Oh no, not this again…

  I didn’t waste the opportunity.

  I took that moment—thank you, idiot cousin—to roll away and put as much space between me and Elena as possible.

  Unfortunately, she didn’t seem to care or notice that I had escaped her immediate wrath. Her eyes were glued to Eric, who stepped closer with an air of casual elegance.

  "Did I interrupt something?" Eric asked innocently, tilting his head slightly.

  "N-n-not at all, Lord Eric…" Elena stammered, clutching her spear tightly as her face somehow managed to grow even redder.

  Eric raised an eyebrow, clearly puzzled by her reaction, but he let it slide.

  "Good, then." He smiled politely before turning his attention back to me.

  For the first time in my life, I was genuinely happy to see Eric. One more second of her "training" and I might’ve ended up as a decorative corpse on the training field.

  Still, I couldn’t help but shiver at the thought of how serious she was getting.

  Eric, of course, was oblivious to the life-and-death struggle he had just interrupted. "I’ve been watching your training for a while now, Nate," he said, his voice calm but encouraging. "I must say, your skills have improved a lot."

  "Improved?" I echoed, disbelief dripping from my words. "What part of that looked like improvement? I couldn’t even land a single hit on her."

  Eric’s smile widened slightly, as if he found my frustration amusing. "That’s true, but the important thing is that you didn’t get seriously hit either. Just a few light grazes here and there."

  "Yeah, but that’s only because—"

  "Because Elena was holding back?" Eric interrupted smoothly, raising an eyebrow. "Well, yes, that’s true. But from what I’ve seen, her attacks were bordering on Apprentice-level strikes. For you to keep up with that without being immediately defeated is no small feat, Nate."

  His words hung in the air for a moment, and while I wanted to roll my eyes at his usual holier-than-thou tone, I couldn’t completely dismiss what he said.

  "E-Eric," came a timid voice from behind.

  Oh, great.

  I turned to see a teenage girl stepping cautiously into the training area. She had a slender figure, silver-white hair that flowed like liquid moonlight, and striking grey eyes that darted nervously between us. Her delicate features carried an air of shyness that made her seem almost out of place here.

  "Rose!" Eric greeted her warmly, his usual easy-going charm on full display. "What brings you here? Are you here to check on your big brother's training too?"

  "I... um..." Rose hesitated, her voice barely above a whisper. "The butler mentioned you were here, so I thought…"

  "You thought what? Needed something?" Eric asked, his tone patient and inviting.

  Rose fidgeted, clasping her hands together. "I’ve been struggling with my magic control again. I was hoping you could… maybe… help me?"

  "Magic control issues, huh?" Eric grinned as if he had all the answers in the world. "Of course! I’d be happy to help. What’s the trouble?"

  Rose shifted slightly, her cheeks dusted with pink. "I’ve been working on a new spell, but every time I try to cast it, my magic control fails. It’s… frustrating."

  Eric chuckled, a reassuring warmth in his laugh. "Oh, I’ve been there. Trust me, mastering new spells is never easy. Different spells need different energy levels, and it takes a lot of trial and error to get it right. Show me what you’ve got—I’m sure we can work through it."

  Rose hesitated for a moment before responding. "Actually… I’d feel more comfortable if we went to my training hall. I’m used to practicing there, and it’s equipped with plenty of magic-target dummies."

  Eric nodded without missing a beat. "Your training hall, huh? Makes sense. Lead the way, and we’ll figure this out together."

  She smiled softly, a small glimmer of relief breaking through her shy demeanor.

  "Umm... Lord Eric," Elena suddenly cut in, her voice soft but carrying a certain determination.

  Eric turned to her, tilting his head slightly. "Yes, Elena?"

  "I’ve been struggling too... with my combat," she said, sounding hesitant but composed. "Specifically with summoning my blood spear quickly and reshaping it mid-battle."

  I saw Rose immediately stiffen, her sharp silver eyes locking onto Elena like daggers. And here we go…

  Eric, oblivious as always, smiled warmly. "Oh? Then... do you want to join us?"

  Before Elena could answer, Rose jumped in, her voice sweet enough to rot teeth. "Well, well, well… Miss Elena, aren’t you already at the Adept level? I’m pretty sure issues like that can be resolved with a bit more practice. On your own."

  Eric tried to step in, raising a hand. "Rose, I think—"

  But Elena wasn’t about to back down. She matched Rose’s frosty tone with one of calm precision. "True, but fine-tuning something like spear shape manipulation requires real-life battle scenarios. And since Lord Eric is a spear user like me, who better to help? He’s the best in the house for this. Besides, my lady," she said, emphasizing the title with a polite smile, "don’t you have plenty of magic users at your level who could assist you? Like Miss Yona? Doesn’t she specialize in snow magic, just like you?"

  Rose’s expression didn’t change, but the air around us suddenly felt colder. I swear I could see my breath for a second. Her eyes gleamed, her voice razor-sharp. "Oh? Yona’s been quite busy lately. I wouldn’t want to disturb her. Besides, magic control is foundational. Far more important than conjuring spears or sparring."

  Eric, looking increasingly uncomfortable, tried to mediate. "Okay, let’s just—"

  Elena wasn’t letting up. Her fiery resolve was practically visible. "In battle, the smallest detail can mean life or death. Training with someone of Lord Eric’s caliber is invaluable. And, isn’t it a little warm this morning, my lady? The heat could affect your snow magic. Wouldn’t it make more sense for me to train with Lord Eric now, and you work with him later tonight?"

  Oh, clever. She knows damn well Eric’s nights are consumed by house duties. If Rose agreed to that, she’d never actually get any training time. Smart move, but also… yikes.

  I stepped back, trying to stay as invisible as possible. I wasn’t about to get caught in the crossfire.

  Being totally irrelevant to the conversation, I did the one thing that seemed appropriate.

  I looked up at the sky.

  I focused on a flock of birds circling above. They moved in lazy arcs, their wings catching the light of the sun as they danced across the sky.

  I decided to count them for no particular reason.

  One… two… three…

  The muffled argument continued somewhere in the background, fading into white noise.

  "Lady Rose, aren’t you just—"

  Four… seven…

  "Oh, Miss Elena, you truly—"

  A faint noise caught my ear, but I paid it no mind. I was far too engrossed in my new distraction.

  Eleven… fourteen…

  Those birds were intriguing. From a distance, they appeared to be your standard Plovers, the kind you’d see in any picturesque countryside painting. But I knew better.

  Seventeen...

  Old Althus had once told me about a certain bird that bore a striking resemblance to the common Plover. The Caladrius. A snow-white bird with feathers so pure it was said to reflect the heavens themselves. Unlike its mundane doppelg?nger, the Caladrius wasn’t just another pretty bird—it had unique healing properties. Legends spoke of its ability to cure ailments just by being near the sick, absorbing their pain and illness, and flying it away into the unknown.

  In a world filled with gods, demons, and the occasional extraterrestrial oddity, it would be foolish to think humanity was the only species that had truly thrived. The Caladrius, for example, was a perfect reminder of how vast and layered this world really was.

  "Nate, don’t just stare at the sky and say somthing!" Eric’s voice cut through my thoughts like an unwelcome alarm clock.

  Oh, right. That idiot was still here too.

  It looked like the two of them were about to break into a battle at any moment.

  I was just about to intervene to save my favorite training spot from turning into a piece of ice and blood a sudden voice interrupted the escalating tension.

  "Young lords and Ms. Elena, excuse me," came the calm, measured tone of the old butler,

  who entered with his usual slight bow.

  Ah, perfect timing, old man.

  "Oh! Graham, what brings you here?" Eric’s eyes lit up as if he'd just saw a lifeline.

  The butler, ever composed, seemed slightly puzzled by Eric’s enthusiasm but carried on. "The Lady Blackwood demands young Lord Nathaniel's presence in her hall."

  Eric paused, his expression shifting to one of curiosity as he glanced at me, his eyes clearly asking, Any idea why she’s summoning you?

  I gave a small shake of my head, answering the silent question.

  "Sure thing...let’s go then," I said, stepping away from the training field.

  As I followed the butler, the faint sounds of Rose and Elena's argument trailed behind us, their voices fading with every step.

  I couldn’t help but hope my dear training spot stay safe.

  After a moment of silence, I glanced at Graham. "Any clue why my grandmother wants to see me?"

  "I’m afraid not, young lord," he replied, his voice as neutral as ever.

  Well...lets hope its good news.

  ...

  Who am i kidding?.

  ***

  The hall was grand, with polished marble floors that reflected like mirrors and tapestries so detailed they resembled paintings.

  The old butler approached the massive oak doors leading to my grandmother’s inner sanctum.

  He knocked gently, announcing, "My lady, Lord Nathaniel has arrived."

  A soft yet commanding voice responded from within, "Enter."

  The butler stepped aside, holding the door open for me but remaining outside, as was customary.

  No servant, regardless of loyalty, was permitted to enter Lady Blackwood’s inner sanctum without invitation.

  Thus, I entered alone.

  The room was as expected: cold, austere, and utterly intimidating.

  At the far end, seated in a grand chair that could easily be mistaken for a throne, was my grandmother.

  Her posture was as rigid as the wood beneath her, her gaze as piercing as the sword at my side.

  I bowed slightly.

  "Nathaniel," she began, wasting no time on pleasantries.

  "I require thee to retrieve a new noble sign from the treasury."

  The noble sign—a trinket signifying noble birthright, painstakingly crafted from the rarest crystal in Albion, the Blood Rutile.

  It's not something one can simply mine; it's created by blood mages in the capital and then distributed to noble houses to display their symbols proudly.

  Each noble receives one at birth, a reminder of their lineage and the blood that flows through their veins.

  I had one too.

  She must be asking me to get a new one because mine is old.

  Representing the Blackwoods at the royal party requires an up-to-date noble sign to avoid embarrassing the family.

  Outwardly, I bowed deeply. "I thank you, Grandmother, for your guidance. I shall see to it immediately."

  "You will depart for the capital in two days," she added, her tone indicating the conversation was over.

  I bowed again, then turned to leave.

  ***

  The butler entered the treasury ahead of me, leaving me to lean against the cold stone wall. My gaze wandered along the faintly flickering sconces as I tried to picture what this new sign would look like. I have seen other houses signs.

  Pristine white, royal blue, each one bearing the unmistakable insignia of its house. But ours? Always black.

  It was fitting I suppose, given the name.

  Moments later, the butler returned, holding the new sign in his gloved hands.

  Actually, scratch that he wasn’t just wearing gloves, but two layers of them.

  His hands were trembling slightly, and honestly, who could blame him? Even he, the house’s trusted steward, who’d served us his entire life, knew the penalty for mishandling a noble sign was… severe.

  The sign itself was striking. A deep, blood-red crystal shaped into a perfect circle, etched with the Blackwood emblem a two-headed serpent coiled around the barren branches of a twisted tree.

  As I took it from him, the crystal shifted in my hand, its crimson glow fading into a deep pitch-black hue.

  Typical. Just like the house it represents.

  Black as midnight.