– 8 years before the main timeline of The Beginning After The End
(Before the reincarnation of King Grey as Arthur Leywin)
In the quiet garden of a noble estate located in the city Blackbend of Sapin kingdom, a boy of seven sat alone on a stone bench. His hair shimmered gold, cascading in soft waves like that of a royalty or supreme nobleman, an exotic kind of beauty. In contrast, his eyes...those were something else entirely. Pale and strange, almost bleached of color, they hovered between white and dark grey, like dying moons dulled by smoke. They nearly faded into his scleras, giving him an eerie, vacant gaze.
Alden Valerius, firstborn of House Valerius, held a book twice the size of his hands—a text on Sapin's trade routes. His small fingers gripped the pages, his eyes scanning each line with silent intensity.
He was not like other children. He never had been.
Seven years ago, Alden was born to Duke Cedric and Lady Elara Valerius.He inherited his father's hair and his mother's fair skin, yet somehow his eyes were such otherworldly. The doctors suggested it might be caused by a rare genetic mutation. Nevertheless, the boy was healthy and fine on all other physical traits, which was his parents' first priority.
Though the household first rejoiced, awe eventually gave way to unease. He had never cried. Not once. Even as an infant, he watched the world in silence, his expression distant and unreadable like a starving wolf studying prey.
By two, he followed the maids around the halls, mimicking their speech with unsettling precision. By three, he'd wandered into the library on his own, dragging down books and flipping through pages. No one had taught him to read. Yet he did, his lips moved in time with the words as if he'd always known them.
Strangely as it may sound, despite all of those abnormalities from the young future duke, Alden still acted as a loving, caring and innocent child towards his parents and others in the house, making their suspicions slowly faded away.
But none of this compared to what happened when Alden turned four.
That night, the manor shook with a deafening blast. The servants and his parents rushed to his chambers, fearing the worst—only to stop in stunned silence. The boy floated in the ruins of his room, surrounded by a swirling vacuum of air, ambient mana rushing toward him. He had awakened as a Conjurer. A large portion of the wall had been blown out in the process.
Duke Cedric and Lady Elara were overcome with pride. The news spread like wildfire throughout the kingdom. Royalty, nobles, and even commoners heard the tale of the child who awakened at four - earliest in the history of Sapin, if not in the entire continent Dicathen. He was clearly blessed by the deities with an extraordinary natural affinity for magic, the people worshipped.
To celebrate, Duke Cedric hosted a grand banquet, inviting nobles far and wide and even the Spain royalty itself. At its center stood little Alden who was treated as if he was a young king in his coronation day . Nobles flocked to him with blessings and gifts, showering praise upon his parents as if vying for favor with the next monarch.
Of course, it was all politics. In Dicathen, talent in magic was a currency more valuable than gold. A gifted mage was a strategic asset, one that could tip the scales of power. To gain the trust of House Valerius was to gain access to that power. Favor meant alliances, and alliances led to power-sharing, influence, and most coveted of all: marriage pacts. A child like Alden could one day fortify any bloodline, his magical affinity a holy prize to be claimed.
After all in this world, magic was everything. It was status, power, and survival. Among the three ruling races of Dicathen, each royal family had two White Core Mages as their ultimate trump cards since the first age after the war with mana beasts for independence and territory.
King Glayder took interest as well, naturally. His gifts far outshone those of the nobles—precious artifacts, rare resources, and personal letters expressing his admiration. Whispers between nobles began that he intended to raise Alden to one day serve under his wing as a White Core Mage. Yet none of them dared to say out loud.
The terrifying truth remained hidden. None of them could ever imagine that one day, they would be told:
Alden Valerius had lived a life before this one.
On Earth, he had been a man driven by knowledge. Yet in his journey as a scholar, chasing the dream of truth and understanding, he was forced to live through war and chaos. He had seen and experienced the worst of humanity, felt its cruelty and madness—a living hell disguised as "modern civilization." He became something inhuman to survive. When death finally came, he welcomed it—not as an end, but as a release.
And now, reborn in a world where magic was real, his obsession had been reborn too.
---
Present Day
Alden watched his father step out of the study and quietly slipped inside. He moved without hesitation, as if he'd done this many times before. Documents and scrolls lay scattered across the desk: records, ledgers, house finances. He read through them quickly, eyes narrowing.
House Valerius was no ordinary noble house. Its name was etched deep in Sapin's history. Their caravans once crisscrossed Dicathen, trading silks and spices to far-off corners. Their forges crafted mana-infused blades that rang with glory in battle. Their diplomats secured alliances that shaped the future of the kingdom. Trade. Politics. Blacksmithing. Valerius had once excelled at all.
But that legacy was crumbling.
Duke Cedric, proud and honorable, made deals on trust and goodwill. He'd loaned gold to Houses Greystone, Ferrem, and Trell—over 12,000 gold coins in 4 years, with the Greystone having the largest portion of debt at over 6000 coins. None had repaid. Lady Elara, warm-hearted and trusting, saw friends in every face, throwing lavish feasts for nobles who mocked her behind her back. House Blackthorn ran smuggling operations through Valerius lands, violating territory's laws, stealing profits and evading tariffs. House Windmere lobbied the royal court, chipping away at Valerius's mining rights behind veils of courtesy. And there were so much more.
The numbers told the real story—unpaid debts, broken contracts, vanishing assets.
It wasn't the first time Alden had noticed.
Once, he'd asked his father about Greystone's debt, voice light and innocent.
"Father, why haven't they paid us back?"
Cedric had only chuckled, ruffling his hair. "Business takes time, lad."
Alden had nodded and smiled.
But inside, something had shifted.
Kind. Generous. Naïve. That was how people saw his parents, two gentle souls trying to live with dignity in a world full of vile people. Their estate, though grand and beautiful, had become a playground for the vultures cloaked in human's skin and clothes' silk. Smiles covered lies. Toasts masked treachery.
And Alden?
He had no intention of accepting the inevitable ruination of his house and position.
Not ever.
Not. One. Bit.
_________________________________
The sun hung low in the sky, the carriages were being readied, banners stitched with the silver hawk of Valerius fluttering gently in the evening breeze. The family were in their way to the annual meeting of Sapin's southern and eastern noble houses where trade pacts, alliances and even competitions were forged, but for most of the time it was more like a gathering to strengthen the estalished relationships between the houses.
Alden Valerius, dressed in fine navy robes embroidered with gold thread, stood beside his parents like a porcelain figure. Observant and obedient as always.
"Remember, Alden," Duke Cedric said gently, brushing his son's head with his hand. "You only need to listen. These meetings can be tiresome, even for grown men but still a valuable experience to prepare yourself early when you take my place."
"Yes, Father," Alden replied with a polite nod. But inwardly, he was calculating.
The journey to the Kalberk city took a few hours via the teleportation portal. As the noble roads unfolded beneath them, Duke Cedric and lady Elara read over the guest list, and Alden stared out the window. Not at the landscape, but beyond it, imagining the council chamber, the nobles, the lies that would drip like honeyed poison from their tongues.
The Great Council Hall was built in a perfect circle of polished obsidian and marble, its acoustics designed to carry every voice equally. A symbol, they claimed, of equality among nobles.
Lords and Ladies took their seats, servants pouring fine wine into gilded goblets. There was laughter, brief embraces, thinly veiled barbs.
The Valerius family sat among the middle ring, a position of respectable influence and higher power, but not dominance. The dukes' place in governmental system were above the normal lords and they were only behind the royalty.
Alden sat between his parents in silence, observing each face of nobles he encountered.
Then came the familiar voice of Lord Theon Greystone, the obese noble, his beard dyed darker than his years should allow. His expensive, brightly colored clothes and jewelry, adorned with gold and gems, stood in stark opposite to his name—"Greystone"—and showed off his wealth far more than a man in deep debt should.
"Ah, Duke Cedric! Lady Elara, radiant as ever. And the boy—by the deity, he looks like he's grown a foot!"
"Lord Greystone.", Duke Cedric gave a handshake with him while his wife and son gave curt bows of greeting.
They exchanged pleasantries, the kind that mattered to people who'd known each other long enough to despise each other in subtle, practiced ways.
The proceedings began. Reports were read. Tax levies discussed. A few smaller houses bickered over river rights. Then came the subject everyone knew would ignite sparks: debts.
Duke Cedric leaned forward.
"Lord Theon," he began diplomatically. "May I raise the matter of the delayed repayments your house owes to mine? Exactly 6742 gold over the past three years. We agreed to steady installments. Yet none have arrived."
All turned toward the fat lord. Greystone smiled as if the accusation were a jest as he spoke:
"My dear friend Cedric, I've meant to speak to you about that. You see, our vineyards suffered terribly in the last drought, and we've had to reinvest heavily in maintenance. On top of that, dwarven tariffs and trade interruptions have hit us from all sides."
A few nobles nodded absently. These excuses weren't new. Everyone lied here.
"We're just keeping ourselves afloat, I assure you and recently we've taken measures to recover, of course, but—"
"No." came a voice sharp and sudden, interrupting Greystone.
Greystone blinked. "Pardon, young duke?"
Alden stood up, calm and precise: "Your vineyard exports haven't dipped, Lord Greystone. In fact, you celebrated record profits last harvest. The tariffs on dwarven mines were dropped last winter—months ago. Yet you broke ground on three new private ores trading contracts, hosted two festivals in Highmire. Your youngest daughter recently received a necklace of sky sapphire and deep opal, rare and costly gemstones from Darv."
"Alden!" Lady Elara whispered, mortified, grasping his sleeve but Alden didn't stop.
"You also commissioned eight marble statues of your ancestors—and yourself—to 'honor your house's bloodline.' As if there's anyone half-witted enough to believe such reasoning. I heard rumors that your statue is twice the size of its real-life version. Must have cost you tons of marble, then.", A sneaky jab—mocking Greystone's overweight from Alden.
Gasps swept through the chamber. Some nobles covered their mouths. A few chuckled. Most simply stared.
"Alden that's enough! Elara, take him away!", Duke Cedric snapped.
Greystone flushed a dark red. "You little brat—!"
"Are stating documented facts," Alden continued, his tone unchanged. "All confirmed through court records and trade manifests. Perhaps your house struggles, but not from drought. Rather, from indulgence, banquets, useless luxuries and not to mention: "special parties" in the brothels to serve your wild desires. Thirteen of them in total, last I heard—"
"Enough!" Cedric's voice rang louder this time, deep and commanding. "You will not shame this house with accusations in front of peers!"
Elara snapped out of her frozen pale face and covered her son's mouth as she apologized . "Forgive us, my lords," she said quickly, taking Alden's arm. "He is young—he speaks out of turn."
The room had quieted, heavy with held breath as Elera brought Alden out of the door.
Lord Cedric stood. "My apologies," he said flatly. "My son forgets his place. Rest assured, Lord Theon," Cedric bowing slightly, his face rigid. "This will not happen again."
Lord Greystone forced a fake smile:"I will overlook this my Duke," he said slowly. "But I would urge House Valerius to keep their cub leashed."
The meeting continued after all the nobles had recovered from their shocks towards the heir of Valerius house. Some whispered in debates about whether what they had just seen was a courage and pride from the young duke which his parents didn't have or it was an imature stupidity and arrogance of a child who knew nothing.
_______________________________
The carriage ride back to the Valerius estate was a suffocating silence, broken only by the hum of mana wheels and the clatter of hooves. Cedric sat rigid, his hands clasped, staring at the floor, his jaw tight with unspoken fury. Elara clutched her shawl, her eyes red-rimmed, fixed on the passing fields, her breaths shallow. Alden sat between them, his hands folded, his face calm, as if the council's chaos had been a mere rehearsal.Back at the manor, the storm broke inthe guest room. Cedric stood over Alden, his broad frame casting a long shadow, his voice low but trembling with a fury that had simmered for hours.
"Insolence is not wisdom, Alden," he said, each word a wound. "You humiliated a lord—a man whose alliance we need. You shamed our house before the entire council, airing our grievances like a street crier. Do you understand the damage you've done?"
Alden stood unbowed, his pale eyes steady, his small frame unwavering, his voice, still calm, yet it was hard steel: "I exposed a leech who owes us 6742 gold, constructs his own paradise, beds with cheap whores and laughs at our begging. Blackthorn, Windmere, Ferrem, Trell, they too are leeches biting on our bodies. They were there in that room with Greystone. Well father, did you make them pay? Did you demand what's ours? Or did you bow and smile as always?"
Cedric's face twisted, a storm of pain and rage when Alden mentioned the vulgar word: "Mind your tongue young man!!You are seven years old!!
And it is not your role to demand them! You think you know better than your mother and me, who've held this house for decades? You think you can shame a lord and call it justice?"
Alden's voice was cold, unyielding, each word a deliberate cut. "I know what I'm seeing—a house dying because its sheep lords trust wolves. You call them allies, but they mock you in their halls, toast to your ruin with our gold. If you won't act, who will? Shall we wait until our treasury go empty and our lands are taken?"
Elara, seated by the fireplace, sobbed softly, her hands twisting in her lap. "Alden, please," she whispered, her voice raw. "We want peace for Sapin, for our people. Conflict between houses could spark war, blood, death, chaos. You're our son, our hope. Why must you push so?"
Alden's eyes flicked to her, and for a moment, his face softened, the mask of a dutiful son slipping into place. "Mother, the peace you are speaking about is the delusion that will bring our family to demise. A bunch of maggots crawling in a corpse, feasting on what's left of our name."
"Alden Valerius! You have forgotten your place in this house!!!", Cedric shouted.
"I have not, father. I am your heir, the soon to be duke of Blackbend. I've always been, and I am still, fullfilling my responsibilities ever since I knew how to read. If this house falls—and it will certainly, as long as you are still ruling it with your blind trust—it won't be war that kills us. It'll be your cowardice.
I am a true born Valerius, and I must do what you don't, what you can't , rather than ending up in an early grave along with you two just for following your silence—"
*SLAP!*
Cedric's hands shook, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, his hand rose, trembling, and before Elara could move, before Alden could blink, it swung—a sharp, resounding slap across Alden's cheek.The crack echoed like a breaking bone. Alden's head snapped to the side, his small frame staggering. Elara cried out, a strangled sob, her hands flying to her mouth.
The firelight caught the red mark blooming on Alden's cheek, stark against his pale skin. He didn't cry, didn't flinch. He straightened, his eyes meeting his father's, unblinking, a spark of something unreadable—cold, calculating—flickering in their depths of bleached color.
Cedric's hand fell, his face crumpling as the weight of his action crashed over him. "Alden," he whispered, his voice breaking, "I—I didn't…" He staggered back, his broad shoulders slumping, his eyes wide with horror. "My son.....my precious boy.... I'm sorry. I've never… I didn't mean…" His hands reached out, trembling, as if to undo the blow, but they hovered, helpless.
Elara rushed to Alden, kneeling, her hands cupping his face, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Oh, my love," she sobbed, her fingers trembling over the red mark. "Cedric, how could you? He's our son!"Alden's gaze flicked to his mother, then his father, his face serene, almost untouched.
"It's all right, Mother," he said, his voice softened without any aggressive emotions. "Father was upset. I understand."
Cedric sank into his chair, his hands covering his face, his breaths ragged. "I've never wanted to strike you, Alden," he said, his voice a plea, raw and broken. "Never in my life.... I… I don't know what came over me. I'm so so sorry, please forgive me."
Elara held Alden tighter, her sobs muffled against his shoulder. "We love you, Alden," she whispered, her voice trembling, her eyes searching his for the boy she thought she knew. "You're our hope, our future. Why must you hurt us so?"
Alden returned her embrace, his small arms gentle.
"I have been disrespectful without realizing the consequences of my choices of words. It was my fault from the beginning. I'm sorry, father, mother, I didn't truly mean any of those.", He spoke softly with some reminiscent of an innocent child in his voice, reassuring his mother.
"I will call the treating healer to take care of your wound. After that, you will write a formal apology letter to Lord Greystone, Alden. And you will not speak in council again without my permission. Do you understand?"
"Yes, father.", Alden's voice was quiet but clear.
His face, the face that was once always cheerful, happy and sweet towards his parents....none of those emotions could be seen on it anymore. Alden expressed nothing. Anger, sadness, regrets, guilt. None of them. Only the creepy calm pokerface just like when he was speaking to lord Greystone.