James awoke to sunlight spilling into his room through slightly open curtains. He yawned, threw back the blankets, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Stretching languidly, he thought, *Oh right, today's Ariel's sixteenth birthday. That little brat's probably going to get something amazing again.*

Leaving his room, he opened the door to find a maid standing in the hallway. "Good morning, sir," she said. "We have already prepared a bath for you."

"Good morning," James replied.

James proceeded to the bathroom, a spacious room crafted from polished dark wood, the air still warm from a previous bath. A young butler, barely older than himself, stood waiting, a neatly folded pile of clothes resting on one of the benches beside the large, empty wooden tub. The butler bowed slightly as James entered.

After his bath, James toweled himself dry and dressed in the clothes the butler had provided – a simple but finely woven shirt and trousers. He then made his way to the main dining hall.

The hall was vast, dominated by a long, ornate table laden with an array of dishes. The air hummed with the low murmur of conversation and the clinking of silverware. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, illuminating the polished surface of the table and the rich tapestries that adorned the walls. His mother and father were already seated, and across from them sat Ariel, her long black hair cascading down her back. She looked up as he approached, a smug smile playing on her lips. James knew that look; it was the look of someone anticipating a lavish display of gifts and attention.

"James, darling, you're late," his mother said, her voice gentle but laced with a hint of playful reprimand.

"Good morning, Mother, Father," James replied quietly, taking his seat.

"Happy birthday, Ariel," he mumbled, his gaze briefly meeting his sister's before dropping to his plate. He knew the elaborate birthday ceremony held at the King's castle the previous year had been a lavish affair, and he expected this one to be no different.

His father cleared his throat. "We held the main ceremony at the King's castle, as is tradition, but I have a little surprise for you here, Ariel."

Ariel's smile widened, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. James picked at his food, his appetite diminished by the knowledge that he would need to return to his training regimen soon. He had never received many gifts, and the thought of the upcoming training session overshadowed the celebratory atmosphere. The conversation flowed around him, a mixture of polite pleasantries and excited chatter, but he remained largely silent, his mind already focused on the rigorous training that awaited him. He knew that even on his sister's birthday, his responsibilities would not be put aside.

Their eyes met, and Ariel looked almost startled. James swallowed his food. "What?" he asked.

"Father," Ariel said, her voice a little too sharp, "did you see this? James has leveled up."

James looked at his father, who used a handkerchief to wipe his mouth before returning to his meal without comment. James turned back to his sister. "Oh yeah? What level am I? How many times did I level up?"

Ariel giggled, a slightly cruel sound. "Oh no, you're only a level twenty."

A small smile touched James' lips. "I'm a level twenty," he said quietly.

The celebratory atmosphere vanished. The expressions around the table turned serious. His father's voice, low and controlled, held a sharp edge. "You're happy about that?"

James hesitated. "No, no, I'm not. I was just surprised, that's all."

"Good," his father said, his tone unwavering. "Because you shouldn't be. In fact, I think you've had enough right now. You should quickly go to your training. I'm sure John is waiting for you in the training yard."

"Yes, of course," James replied, his voice barely a whisper. He stole a quick glance at his mother, her expression as serious and unreadable as always. The only times she smiled at him felt forced, just like his father's rare displays of approval, always overshadowed by the overt joy they showed towards Ariel, the one expected to carry on the family legacy. He felt perpetually overlooked and underappreciated.

"Yes, Father," James said, wiping his mouth and leaving the dining hall. He headed towards the training grounds, the familiar weight of expectation settling on his shoulders. He’d trained relentlessly since he was ten, yet he remained frustratingly weak. The son of Alexander Tyranny, with the blood of a hero coursing through his veins, and yet…fragile. Each encounter with his father reinforced this painful reality. His father's gaze, the unspoken disappointment, sometimes felt like a tangible weight, a burden of resentment.

He reached the vast backyard, a sprawling expanse of manicured lawn bordered by neatly trimmed hedges. The training area, a square field paved with large grey stone tiles, lay at its center. John, his trainer, stood waiting, holding two swords loosely in his hands. He tossed one towards James, retaining one for himself. James caught it effortlessly as he entered the field.

"Ah, young master," John said, his voice calm and steady. "I've been waiting."

"Remember what we practiced," John added, as James adopted a fighting stance.

Meanwhile, back at the dinner table, Ariel looked up at her father. "Father, is it alright if I train with James?"

Her father's gaze shifted to Ariel, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. "Do you want to hurt your big brother?" he asked, his tone suggesting the answer was self-evident.

"No, it's just that I've never really trained with him," Ariel said. "I've always trained with you. I just want to show him some of my skills. And maybe, you know, he will try harder to level up after witnessing them."

Her father looked at her and said, "Fine, but only this once."

Her mother interjected, "But wait, isn't it too dangerous for them to spar? I mean, our son isn't even an E-rank yet."

Alexander said, "It's fine." He looked at his daughter. "You'll go easy on him, won't you?"

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Ariel smiled. "Well, of course," she said, a grin spreading across her face as she rose from the table and headed towards the training grounds.

Meanwhile, James, training with John, felt his muscles begin to ache. He launched himself at John one last time. John redirected the attack, using his sword to deflect James's and then sidestep, allowing James to rush past. With a swift movement, John struck James on the back of the head with his elbow.

James stumbled, clutching the back of his head. John shook his head, a look of exasperation on his face. "I told you not to just charge," he said. "Even when you feel overwhelmed, your skills become sloppy, and you start charging over and over again. I keep defeating you. When are you going to learn, young master?"

James turned, frustration evident in his voice. "How the hell do you expect me to learn while fighting a level ninety? Shouldn't we have started with something lower and gradually moved up? I don't think I'm going to learn anything at this point. You've taught me some moves, but that's all. I've learned almost everything you've taught me. I mean, you've trained me since I was ten, but all of this doesn't matter if I don't get stronger or faster fast enough. I'm so freaking weak. I can't even level up like other people. And yet I'm a descendant of the hero." He looked at John, a hint of desperation in his voice. "Is it really true that I'm my father's son?"

Before John could answer, Ariel's laughter cut through the air. "I can't believe you're struggling with such a weakling," she said, her voice dripping with disdain. "Well, it is expected, after all. Compared to him, you are nothing."

She unsheathed her sword, stepping into the training grounds a few feet away from both John and James. "I want to show you something, big brother," she continued. "You do realize all my training with Father was private, right? You've never actually seen them, you've never seen my skills. So, how about this? I'm going to easily defeat John for you, and then you can see what a descendant of the hero truly is like."

"What? That's not—what do you *want* here?" James said, annoyance filling his voice.

"What do you mean, 'what am I doing here'? I just told you," Ariel replied, a grin on her face. "Father gave me permission to come and train with you. Or train you, given that you're as weak as always. When I saw John here, I thought maybe I could show you my skills by sparring with him."

"I don't want to," James said flatly. "I don't care about any of your skills."

The sentence hit Ariel like a punch in the gut. "You've got to be kidding me," she sputtered. "These are the same skills you're training for, and you don't care if I show them to you? John, I've heard training has been your profession for a long time now. Tell me, have you ever had such a stupid and pathetic student?"

"No, my lady," John quickly answered, surprising James. *Is he taking her side?* James thought.

"Hey, I am your big brother," James said, his voice tight with anger. "You should show some respect."

"Oh, really?" Ariel retorted, a mocking smile playing on her lips. "Prove it. Try beating me in a match, big brother…"

James stormed towards her, his anger boiling over. Ariel waited, her mocking smile unwavering. John stepped in front of James, his back to his student. He looked at Ariel. "How about we go along with the first option you presented, my lady? Maybe if young master watches the match, he will be inspired to push himself harder to new levels."

Ariel giggled. "Ha, like that's going to help with anything. Alright then, I accept the challenge." She pointed her sword at John as James stood behind him, simmering with frustration and a burning desire to prove his worth.

"Young master," John said, taking a battle stance, "it would be better if you stood a safe distance away from us."

James looked at his sister, and something felt profoundly different. An invisible flame, or something akin to it, seemed to emanate from her legs, engulfing her entire body. It was intangible, yet its fiery nature was unmistakable. * is what they call an aura?* he thought, then said aloud, "Alright, I will watch from over there."

He walked out of the training grounds and onto the grass, crossing his arms as he watched.

John looked at Ariel. "I'm sorry to ask this, my lady, but I'm a bit curious. What level are you currently?"

Ariel smiled. "I'm level one hundred and thirty-four."

James's heart pounded. *One hundred and thirty-four?* he thought, stunned. *I knew she was always many levels above me, but when did she even reach one hundred? I'm pretty sure she was below one hundred a month ago. What kind of training was she going through with Father?*

John smiled. "All right, let our battle commence."

Suddenly, both Ariel and John vanished from James's sight, reappearing instantly before each other, their swords clashing with a deafening clang. A shockwave rippled outwards from the impact, the sound ringing painfully in James's ears. He stumbled back, momentarily shielding his eyes from the strong wind pressure release. " What is happening?"

James watched, his breath catching in his throat. John, a seasoned warrior, was being utterly dominated. The disparity was jarring. Ariel, seemingly slight and graceful, moved with a terrifying efficiency, her every parry precise and powerful. The clash of steel was a symphony of controlled violence, each parry a testament to her superior skill and speed. The initial slow, deliberate exchanges quickly escalated into a blinding flurry of motion. Steel shrieked against steel, sparks erupting like miniature stars in the afternoon sun, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. The air itself vibrated with the force of their blows, a palpable tension hanging heavy in the air. James's eyes struggled to follow the dance of death, the movements too fast, too fluid to track. He could only see fleeting glimpses of flashing steel and the occasional blur of motion as Ariel effortlessly deflected John's attacks.

John, his face grim, leaped back, the ground screeching beneath his boots as he skidded to a halt. He braced himself, his grip tightening on his sword. He attacked with renewed ferocity, a series of powerful downward slashes, each blow imbued with the weight of his experience and desperation. Each blow was met by Ariel's effortless parries, her movements economical and deadly. The rhythm shifted, the attacks becoming faster, more desperate. The air crackled with tension, the sounds of clashing steel punctuated by the sharp hiss of sparks. The scent of ozone filled the air, a byproduct of the friction between their blades.

Ariel's grin widened, a predatory gleam in her eyes. "Are you sure you're a trainer?" she taunted, her voice barely audible above the clang of steel. "I'm going to show you something. I don't think I even need two hands."

She released her sword, her hand falling casually behind her back.

John's expression hardened. "Don't take me lightly," he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

He launched a ferocious attack. Then, muttering, "Burning Sword," his blade erupted in flames, becoming a fiery streak aimed at Ariel's head.

Ariel smiled, swiftly retrieving her sword with both hands. She raised it in a smooth, practiced motion, intercepting John's fiery slash with a resounding clang. The intense heat from the burning sword erupted against her, but an invisible, shimmering barrier—a shield—instantly materialized, enveloping her completely. A wave of hot air rippled outwards, pushing against James with surprising force.

He winced, raising his hands to shield his face. *What kind of skill is that?* he thought, his mind reeling. He'd never used anything like that before.

Ariel pushed John's sword away, forcing him to leap back. He launched a series of fiery slashes from a distance, the air itself seeming to crackle with heat. Ariel responded with a blur of motion, her sword a living extension of her will, twisting and turning with impossible speed, deflecting each fiery attack with balletic grace.

She then rested her sword on her palm, raising her arm slightly but not high in the air. "If you haven't noticed," she said, her voice calm and devoid of any hint of exertion, "I haven't used any of my skills yet."

Muttering the word, "Acceleration," she vanished. James barely registered the movement before she reappeared behind John, her sword dripping with blood. John fell to one knee, clutching his chest, a crimson stain blooming on his tunic.

Ariel turned, a scoff escaping her lips. "This is about the easiest battle I've ever fought. So this is a level ninety, huh? I must admit, it was pretty fun. Oh, do you want me to show you another skill I have?" she asked, her tone laced with amusement.

John grunted, struggling to his feet. "I'm sorry, my lady," he said, his voice strained, "but I don't think my body can take any more of your skills."

Ariel giggled. "Fine, I'll spare you this time." She whipped out a handkerchief, meticulously wiping the blood from her sword before sheathing it. "Oh, John," she said, stepping off the stone tiles of the training ground, "I want you to come here for a sec. I'm going to show you one of my skills, but don't worry, it won't harm you. It's a very important skill. I should have warned you about it before we started."

John, wincing slightly as he placed a hand on his still-bleeding chest, replied, "Yes, ma'am," and followed her. A faint green glow emanated from his chest as his wounds rapidly closed.

James watched, utterly astonished. John had never used such healing skills during their training sessions. *Probably because he never needed to,* James mused.

Ariel, John, and James stood together. Ariel grinned, turning her back to James. She unsheathed her blade, raised her palm, and then, without hesitation, cut herself.

"My lady, please!" John exclaimed, his voice laced with alarm. "Don't just cut yourself like that!"

Ariel looked at him, amusement dancing in her eyes. "What? Worried about me now? Stop putting on the act. I just want to show you my skill."

She tossed a few droplets of her blood onto the training ground. The instant the blood hit the stone tiles, a blinding red flash erupted in a devastating explosion. Stone tiles erupted into the air, pulverized into dust.

"I call it Blood Explosion," Ariel announced, her voice ringing with pride. "It's a very unique skill. Even Dad doesn't have it. It's a great skill, don't you think?"

"That is an extraordinary skill, my lady," John said, his voice awed. "So even if I managed to cut you, I would be extremely hurt in the process."

Ariel grinned. "That's right," she said, "and these blasts won't even affect me. I just didn't want to use it to its full extent because, well, the training grounds are still useful."

The dust settled, revealing a sizable crater in the middle of the training area.

"Yeah," James said, "but you totally wrecked it."

Ariel turned to him, a challenging glint in her eyes. "So what about it, big brother? Do you want to take me on?"

James hesitated. "Um, yeah, I… I can take you on," he stammered.

Ariel's annoyance was palpable. "You saw some of my skills. Are you sure you want to take me on?" she asked, her face serious.

"Yes," James said, his voice firmer than he felt. "I'm sure I want to take you on."

John looked at James, concern etched on his face. "But sir, I'd advise you not to go through with this. As you saw, she is way more powerful. She's way stronger than me, and you cannot defeat me."

James shook his head, his resolve hardening. "I don't care." He unsheathed his sword and stepped into the arena. "I'm going to try anything."

Ariel scoffed, but followed him into the arena.

As James held his sword, a tremor ran through his hands. *Why?* he thought, bewildered. *Why the hell am I trembling? She hasn't even unsheathed her sword yet. She's my sister, dammit, hold it together. She's not going to kill me, right?*