A sharp voice tore through the air of the training grounds.
"Stop for today. That's enough!"
The family knights cheered, weapons clanking as swords and spears hit the ground. Some hugged their companions, laughing and chatting about the day. Others joked about visiting the brothel.
The instructor watched calmly and smiled. There were no true prodigies in this batch, but he was content. After all, the Count's elder son—whose talent had even shocked the capital—was reason enough to be proud.
Amid the noise, Arvind smiled bitterly. Purple bruises marked his arms. His hands—blistered, rough—felt more like a laborer's than a noble's. He had trained the hardest—and still ranked last.
If that wasn't tragic, what was?
"Aaaah..." he sighed, looking up at the sky.
The instructor turned suddenly. Arvind flinched and darted off, raising his head again as if nothing had happened. The instructor shook his head and walked away.
Arvind's heart sank.
He slapped himself.
"What a shame..."
In his mind, his father's cold, indifferent face surfaced. Not even a glance. Yet the man always smiled warmly at his older brother and sister. Doting.
He clenched his fists. His hands were covered in cuts, but somewhere inside, his fighting spirit still pulsed.
Still not enough.
"Let's head back. You heard? A new beauty arrived. I can't wait to feel her delicate skin..."
The voice drifted over Arvind. The speaker was drooling, completely shameless.
"Training's exhausting," the other grumbled, rolling his eyes as he slung an arm over the man's shoulder. He glanced at Arvind, who was kneeling and trembling. His expression from pity to contempt.
"Pathetic. Probably a commoner. Maybe the Count adopted him out of pity. Let's go. I don't want mud on my boots."
As they left, Arvind caught a glance of hesitation from one of them. Maybe he'd wanted to say something. But he didn't.
Arvind closed his eyes and gripped his sword tightly.
He didn't retaliate. Not because he was afraid — but because he was used to it.
But you can't argue with facts.
---
On the way back, his thoughts drifted to his previous life.
He had sent out résumés, dreamed of a future.
"You're not a fit."
That sentence haunted him.
He had worked like an ant since junior high — disciplined, tireless. Had it all been a lie?
His gaze lifted as he reached the courtyard — his mother's garden.
He opened the door. Weeds had overtaken it.
Tears welled in his eyes.
He remembered coming home exhausted from training, only to hear that his mother had passed. He hadn't believed it. She'd been healthy.
Regret carved through him like a blade.
She had reminded him of his parents from his previous life — kind, understanding, and always waiting for him with a smile. She had been the only person holding his sanity together in this cold place.
Without her...
He remembered kneeling at her grave in the rain.
His eyes had been numb. No tears left.
His father had already left.
"I bet he didn't even cry."
"Cold-blooded to the core.
---
The door creaked open.
Anika stepped in.
"My lord, please take care of your body. A bath first — then we'll eat."
She raised a fist.
"You'll reach the sky, my lord."
Arvind sighed.
"I'm not a child. Let them laugh."
But when he saw the grief in her reddened eyes, he cursed himself.
She didn't deserve that.
After some persuasion, she finally gave a soft nod and stepped out.
She wiped her eyes in secret.
---
Stirring his soup, Arvind tore the bread like a hungry ghost. His stomach cried out in joy — today had been exhausting.
What kind of reincarnator looks like this?
At least back then, even when your parents scolded you, it came from care.
They were there. They supported you.
But here?
The mother who had brought him warmth was gone. This castle — bustling and full of life — felt as cold as winter. He smiled bitterly.
All those novels were lies. Where's the golden finger? The power to crush those who mock you?
Reality was different. Earth, in hindsight, was far better.
Just then, his attention turned to the door. It sounded like Anika was arguing with his sister.
Compared to me, her life feels like a dream...
She was only seventeen — already a junior mage. Even in the capital, prodigies reached that rank at twenty. Being a mage required a stable mind — rare among the impulsive hearts of youth.
Then she walked in.
Her long dress flowed like something out of a medieval drama. She carried herself like a noble's daughter — proud, elegant — but her face lit up when she saw him.
"Brother! Big Brother said you should come to the noble gathering tonight. Father's hosting it for our coming-of-age ceremony! I can't wait to see what territory he gives me!"
Her eyes sparkled, lost in dreams of wealth and power — gold coins on one side, rare magical resources on the other.
"Aren't you still seventeen?" Arvind raised an eyebrow, watching her giggle.
"One year left before your ceremony."
Off to the side, Anika giggled too, casting him a mischievous glance. Arvind wanted to dig a hole and bury himself.
"Mmm, what do you know?" his sister waved him off. "Father loves me! He said I'm mature now, so I get to celebrate with you! Anyway, choose a territory near mine so we can help each other. I'll protect you! My fireball can turn enemies into meat pasta—smash!"
Arvind's anger flared.
Is she mocking me?
He almost snapped — but stopped.
Those weren't mocking eyes.
They were warm. Affectionate. Genuine.
He sighed, stepped forward, and ruffled her hair. She smiled, content. She liked being around him more than their older brother — who was cold, stern, always distant.
---
After the meal, they walked into the grand hall.
It was more luxurious than anything this era should allow. The ceiling gleamed with glowing crystals — not man-made, yet shining like electric bulbs.
It was said one of those could stay lit for an entire month. What a miracle.
But to him, it all felt distant.
This luxury belonged to the Aetheric — what commoners whispered as "demon-possessed."
Maybe they weren't wrong.
Aetheric power wasn't like the flashy magic of novels. It was subtle, invisible — and it could burn through your soul without mercy.
"Brother, my friends are calling! I'll go first. See you on stage!"
Her cheerful voice tugged him from his thoughts. He nodded.
Even now, his mind drifted to Earth.
He watched his sister smiling and laughing with the noble youth — her mask flawless. That was expected. Everyone wore masks here.
Around him, nobles laughed — too loud, too rehearsed. Wolves in velvet.
Their eyes followed him — not with respect, but calculation.
If not for his father, the mockery would be open.
He reached a quiet corner and sat down. A servant approached.
Arvind waved for wine. As it was poured, he nodded in thanks.
Look at me, amused. Even I thanking servants. If those nobles saw, they'd sneer. Call me weakling~
But he didn't care.
If he let that get to him, he'd go insane.
"Yo, Arvind! What are you doing in the corner?" a familiar voice called out.
"I've been searching everywhere! Shouldn't you be at the center? It's your day, man! You should be hugging a beautiful lady right now — I mean, choosing one! They should feel honored. But instead, you're just..."
His friend gave him a confused look, then clicked his glass.
"Gulp. You know your big brother's already in there like a hero. Man, this is your stage too. You're the son of a Count, right? Hell, I feel injustice for you. Come on — let's go!"
Arvind smiled bitterly. How could I just walk in and accept their contempt so casually? He raised his glass and drank deeply.
"You know he's the heir — everyone flocks to him. But what about me?"
His friend paused, then chuckled awkwardly.
"Anyway, what about you? Managed to snatch heir status from your big brother yet?"
Arvind's smile faded as he remembered those confident words his friend once boasted. He turned, curious — and saw his friend's shoulders slump.
"What do you know," He muttered. "That was just for show. If I didn't fight, my brother would've taken everything that was supposed to be mine. Becoming a mud-leg... it's hell. I'd rather die."
"Yeah," Arvind replied quietly. "Then I congratulate you in advance... Mr. Baron. Are you a junior knight now?"
How ironic. Nobles acting like they don't belong — just like the commoners they despise. If it weren't so tragic, it'd be funny.
His friend raised a fist in mock victory, grinning.
In Atheron, noble society wasn't like Earth's — here, strength ruled.
"Almost there. My core's nearly formed. But enough about me — what about you? Have you advanced yet? I feel both awe and shame seeing how hard you train. Surely you're a junior knight by now—"
Arvind shook his head. He turned toward him, the tension in his chest easing slightly.
"You see me as a failure, don't you?"
His friend stiffened.
"That's not—"
A voice cut in:
"Your father's calling."
---
At the front of the hall, Count Eldric stood on the podium, Shankar the butler trailing behind.
"My lord," Shankar whispered urgently, "have mercy on him. He is your son. You clearly don't wish him well — but this? This is injustice. How will my lady rest in peace, knowing her son—?"
Eldric halted. His cold gaze snapped to the butler. Shankar felt it — pressure like a blade pressed to his neck.
"You know I'm doing this for his own good," Eldric said. "He doesn't belong here. That's where he should live. This is compensation. You understand that."
Shankar was stunned. He tried to speak — but Eldric stepped forward. Bitterly, the old butler lowered his head and whispered into the air:
Forgive me, my lady… I've done all I can.
---
Arvind stepped up.
He followed his father through the crowd. It parted around them like the sea. All eyes turned: nobles, knights, dignitaries, their subordinates — watching, whispering.
He caught sight of his instructor, who gave him a nod.
His sister was already on stage, standing proudly. Nearby, his older brother was surrounded by elegant women — confident, magnetic. He nodded politely to Arvind, who returned it, knowing they weren't close — not enemies, but distant. His brother resembled their father too much: cold, commanding, unreachable.
At the center, Count Eldric raised a hand. Instantly, the hall fell silent.
He began reciting the legacy of House Hale — its origin tied to the legendary Flamebearer. Nobles closed their eyes and spoke the sacred name in unison.
The Flamebearer — the one who opened the path of Aetherion to humanity.
A being revered across regions and religions — especially by noble houses who claimed his bloodline.
A maid stepped forward, carrying a silk-covered plate with two items: a deed and the noble crest.
A priest in pure white robes entered the stage. On his chest gleamed the Star of Unity — symbol of the Church of Light.
"In witness of Almighty Dues, we bless House Hale. May their glory endure through the ages."
He presented the deed and crest to his sister.
Her eyes trembled as she reached out.
"Take them, child," the priest said warmly. "It is God's mercy that we live. May Almighty Dues grant you wisdom."
She closed her eyes, nodded, and accepted them. Applause followed — loud, joyous. Her friends beamed with pride.
Then it was Arvind's turn.
He stepped forward. The ritual resumed — but something felt off.
His father's eyes flickered. The priest paused for half a breath before continuing.
"In witness of Almighty Dues,"
"May he be guided by your light. Mr. Arvind Hale is hereby assigned... the Barony of Ravengarde." The words sounded almost choked out.
The applause came — scattered. Awkward. Half-hearted.
Arvind barely heard it.
Ravengarde.
That name rang like a curse.
His jaw clenched. Still, he reached out and snatched the deed and crest with a stiff nod. He bowed slightly to the priest.
On his way back, Arvind felt the sting of pitying glances from the nobles. He wanted to claw their eyes out.
I don't want your pity.
Shankar, walking behind him, closed his eyes.
It's unjust... How can he live like this? But if I stay by him...
His friend rushed after him.
"Arvind! Ravengarde — are you mad? Beg your father to change it!"
Arvind stopped. Tears threatened to break through, but he forced them back.
"Can you step back?"
"Leave me alone..."
He walked away, shoulders heavy with shame and fury.
His friend raised a hand as if to call after him — then let it fall with a sigh.
Pitiful... His Aetheric potential is already mediocre. Now this? If it were me, I'd refuse the title outright. Life is more valuable than pride. But with a father like that... staying would mean exile anyway.
---
As the sun dipped below the horizon, its last rays bathed the graveyard in gold.
Arvind knelt before a tombstone — his mother's. Her name carved into it like a wound.
"Even a manor would've been enough. Does he hate me that much?"
His voice cracked.
"I don't know what to do anymore. I just wanted a simple, happy life — but that damn man... he forced me into this!"
He collapsed, tears spilling freely onto the cold stone.
Then — his pendant glowed.
A soft blue light pulsed once.
"System initializing... Proceeding."
Startled, Arvind held his breath — but the voice vanished as quickly as it came.
Was it real? Or just a hallucination...?
He looked at the tombstone again, tears still wetting his cheeks.
I'm nothing. A joke. Is even heaven mocking me now?
His vision blurred. And in his grief, a memory returned.
---
He was younger, sitting in the garden beside his mother. Flowers bloomed all around them. Her hands, always graceful, were tending the soil.
"What do we do if life forces us down?" he had asked.
She chuckled softly and tapped his forehead.
"Arvind, heaven and the world are ruthless by nature. If you give up, they'll crush you."
She smiled, eyes distant but warm.
"But being alive means living in uncertainty. We hope. We believe. No one knows what's coming. But when you're lost, fate and the stars will guide you."
She pulled him into a hug.
"Living is about holding on to hope — that's what changes lives."
---
His eyes focused again on her grave.
"I'm just ordinary," he whispered.
The warmth of her words lingered in his chest. She had been born a commoner, yet rose to stand beside a Count. She endured scorn, cruelty — and still gave him nothing but love.
Why did the world take her from me...?
He clenched his fists and stood.
"I won't break. If the world is ruthless… then I'll be worse."
As the last rays of sunlight kissed the tombstone, Arvind turned and walked forward.
---
The next morning, sunlight streamed through the windows.
Strangely, Arvind had slept nearly nine hours — rare for someone like him. Normally, he rose before dawn to train.
After dressing and preparing, he stepped into the hall. On the way, he passed Anika, who blinked in surprise at the sight of him.
He nodded quietly.
Today, I begin preparing to leave for Ravengarde.
I won't live under those contemptuous eyes anymore. Not me. My life is mine — and I choose what to do with it.
He met with Shankar — the loyal butler his mother had left him. Just seeing the man gave him strength.
Together, they began a busy day: visiting the knight squad, gathering supplies, preparing for the journey ahead.
---
That night, the sky shimmered with soft blue light. Arvind stood outside, watching the stars flicker and glow.
He smiled and raised a fist toward the stars.
"I know, Mom. I'll face life with hope."
He stood there quietly. Only the chirp of insects broke the silence.
And for the first time in a long, long while...
...he felt alive.