Aiden’s raised hand trembled horribly.

The end of Valdan’s sword was buried in the ground beside him, cleaving Aiden’s dropped sword in two. In the wake of its fall was a crack in the ground that spread forward for over fifteen feet.

Aiden looked back, trailed the distance the crack traveled. The crack widened the farther it went and Aiden couldn’t tell how deep it was.

That has to be a skill, he thought. Right?

If it wasn't, then Valdan had reached the rank of aura manifestation and had simply imbued his sword with it in anger. What were the chances that the action hadn't been intentional?

When he turned to look back at Valdan, the Knight was staring right at him. Through the eye slit Aiden could see a single bright, blue pupil.

He would’ve said something, anything, if he didn’t think his life depended on whatever happened next. Who was to say that he hadn’t angered Sir Valdan to true volatility.

They stayed that way for a time that seemed to last forever, silent in the weight of their individual or perhaps collective action.

When the silence was broken, it was by Valdan.

The bright blue of his eyes dimmed until Aiden could no longer see it through the helmet. Then Valdan stood to his full height, taking his sword with him. He sheathed it calmly, then did something he had never done in Aiden’s presence.

He took off his helmet.

The action seemed almost ceremonious, executed with both hands. Sir Valdan was not a handsome man. He was not ugly, though, not by the definition of the word. But no one would look at him and call him handsome. He had a rough face and a squared jaw. He wore a neat beard, trimmed to perhaps an inch in length with a scar as long as his smallest finger on the left side of his jaw. He also had a full head of night-black hair tied back neatly.

He had blue eyes and a mouth that looked like he had never found a single thing funny in his life.

“Lord Lacheart,” he said, voice empty. “Congratulations on your first level.”

Aiden’s head twitched in a nod. Now that his life was no longer dancing on the edge of a sword's blade, the adrenaline was wearing off. In its place was the slow rush of power than came with achieving a level. It was usually more ecstatic than this, but fear was a great number.

“That said,” Valdan continued, “I will now address you, not as a Knight would a Lord, but as a swordsman would a potential savior. You have been brought to this world for greater purposes than my very own existence. The palace has watched you and your companions as you have lived and trained amongst us, and we all know that you are not like the others. You speak with better decorum and accept our ways better than the others. You are, in a sense, more mature. But despite that, it often works to your disadvantage.

“You have ostracized your peers, save your brother, paving your own path and forgetting the necessity that is team work. You have chosen to walk a solo path. And while you will go fast on it, you will not go far. You may know more than your peers, Lord Lacheart, but it does not make you an adult. You are but a child, stuck in a game you do not understand.”

Valdan gestured at the space around them, expression still empty.

“I do not know what you sought to achieve here, this evening,” he continued. “I do not know what your goal was in your display of chaotic swordsmanship and confused actions. I do not know what you sought in testing me. But I will advise you this: do not push a knight to anger; do not test a knight. You almost lost your life today, Lord Lacheart. Remember that.”

Valdan gave Aiden no space to reply. Once his words ended, he turned and strode away, placing his helmet back on to hide his face and leaving Aiden with his congratulations on a new level.

Aiden ran his hand through his hair once the Knight was gone. The trembling was gone from his hand, thankfully, and his lips pressed into a thin line, knowing Valdan had not been wrong to be offended.

I believe a proper apology is in order, he thought, scratching his head in frustration.

For now, however, he pulled up his interface.

[Name - Aiden Lacheart]

[Species- Human]

[Age - 19]

[Class- None Lvl 1]

[Affiliation]

None.

[Title]

None.

[Skill]

[Tongue of the Visitor (Mastery 100%)], [Basic Swordsmanship (Mastery 02.10%)], [Kick (Mastery 98.08%)], [Palm attack (Mastery 99.00%)], [Shoulder Thrust (Mastery 100.00%)], [Resilience (Mastery 42.13%)], [Engraving (Mastery 80.00%)], [Geometry (Mastery 92.90%)], [Mana manipulation (Mastery 2.00%)].

[Stats]

None.

Aiden dismissed it and laid down with a frown. He had almost lost his life and had still failed. In his past life, he’d learned that if a person could get more than one basic skill at the same time as they leveled up, they could unlock a unique skill. It was something that only happened if it was done under considerable pressure and simultaneously. It was, in a way, a boon to anyone. It gave it's user the ability to use a skill in a way that was different from its general use.

For example, at a simple level, a long range sword slash done with a skill needed to be executed with a sword. But at the same simple level, if the skill was unique, the user could find themselves with a skill that allowed them execute it with their bare hands. Unique skills were not powerful, but they circumvented the norm.

For this, Aiden had taken advantage of Valdan’s good will. He'd truly believed that he could anger the knight without being killed. But in the face of someone with a significantly higher level, survival wasn’t a certainty. A mistimed attack here or the slightest miscalculation of strength there, could lead to death.

So as Valdan got more confused and angrier, the certainty of survival dropped. And while Aiden continued to believe he would not die, he continued to fear that he would. He played the game at the edge of safety and had come out in the end with nothing to show for it.

He turned his head on its side and looked at the crack in the ground and the broken sword. He didn’t know what Valdan’s level had been at the end of the war, but right now, he put it somewhere in the forties…

Maybe higher.

It didn't sound like a large number, but considering many people went their entire lives without breaking through the level fifty wall, it was commendable.

Nothing less from a Knight of Bandiv.

………….

Valdan strolled through the palace halls with a frown on his face. The young Lord had been foolish, that much was true, but he had been more foolish.

Who had ever heard of a Knight losing their cool in a fight against an Unclassed. Worse, someone yet to have a level.

Every day he sparred against Lord Lacheart, he continued to be impressed. Yes, Lord Lacheart had the makings to be an amazing Knight, but Valdan knew the Knight class was not for him. Those who were offered the class tended to possess a certain sense of loyalty. And loyalty was the last thing he saw in Lord Lacheart.

But the young lord was destined for the path of the swordsman. Valdan could see him achieving the grandmaster level in his swordsmanship. But that was if he continued to devote himself to the art and stayed away from foolish displays like the one he had done today.

Valdan was climbing down a set of stairs that would finally lead him beyond the palace and towards the Knight’s quarters when a servant came to stand in front of him.

It was a young boy, no older than his thirteenth year. He was dressed in poor clothes, yet he had taken good enough care of them to not come across as ragged. But how the boy looked was not important. What was important was what the boy represented.

Valdan stopped in his tracks. He could no sooner step past the bowing boy than he could cut the sky and kill a god.

Fear seized him by the ankle, threatening to pull him down even before the boy passed on the message he brought with him.

“Your presence is required, Sir Knight,” the child said, eyes to the ground.

Valdan did his best to stand tall and regal, to remind himself that he was not some simple subject but a knight of the crown.

“Location?” he asked.

“The king’s study.”

Valdan stood rooted to the ground like a tree as the boy made his exit, sharp and quick.

He had paved a way for his future long ago, climbing from the class of [Soldier], finding the fortune of an upgrade to [Warrior], then [Knight]. He had made plans; serve his kingdom and make a way to retirement.

But it was all for naught now. With a single gesture from the king's advisor on an unfortunately fortunate evening, his fate had been turned on its head. All the little control he’d had over his own fate, taken, like candy from a baby.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Valdan enjoyed training the young Lord Lacheart, watching the young grow. But as much as he loved it, he also hated it.

…………….

Valdan took a knee, silent in front of King Brandis. In the presence of a king all subjects only spoke when spoken to. Anything else would be disrespect to the crown. And while Brandis was not a king to punish disrespect so carelessly, a Knight was to be respectful at all times.

They were in the king’s study, a large room with a few comfortable chairs, a large reading desk and a seat with a backdrop of a large, glass double-door that opened out to a high balcony.

The doors were currently veiled behind beige curtains.

The room was illuminated by orb lights, glass orbs as large as Valdas’ head with tongues of fire ever-living inside them, each one immortal due to one enchantment or the other. It cast the room in a warm yellow glow, revealing the shelves of books stacked against brown walls.

Behind the reading table, Brandis sat comfortably with a golden goblet on the table just to his side. He had a thoughtful expression on his face as he studied his Knight.

“Would it make any difference if I asked you to be at ease when we are alone?” King Brandis asked, going for a calm and casual tone.

“Yes, my king,” Valdan lied.

Brandis nodded. “I thought as much. So I will not. Instead, I will ask you to rise and report.”

Valdan came abruptly to his feet, one arm behind his back while he held his helmet in the other.

“Lord Lacheart the younger continues to show promise in the martial arts,” he reported. “He continues to excel each day, honing skills I can only assume are from his world, though his form of swordsmanship is eerily familiar.”

King Brandis leaned forward on his table, intrigued. “What do you mean when you say eerily familiar?”

“Facing him, I am often caught with the feeling that I have seen such skills before, perhaps even faced them myself.”

“When he was summoned, he displayed skills we did not expect of him.” Brandis leaned back, away from the table. “His explanation was that all his life he has been copying the actions of others he had seen in combat. Is it possible that he has been watching others fight since coming to our world? Inculcating their techniques into his own to better strengthen it.”

“I would not dare to oppose my king,” Valdan replied carefully. “But while I do agree that he seems to be a genius in the martial arts as against his peers, the level my king is positing isn’t the feat of a genius. I would call that the feat of a god.”

Brandis smiled. “Perhaps you are right. And his allegiance to his peers?”

Valdan’s eyes squinted in confusion. “Apologies, my king, but I do not understand.”

“His…” Brandis made a vague gesture with his hand, trying to find the right word. “His relationship… yes… His relationship with his peers. From your point of view, what is it like?”

“Nonexistent, my king. Save Lord Lacheart the older, he pays his companions no heed. They are to him like the strands of hair on his palms.”

Brandis paused. “The palm has no hair, Sir Valdan.”

“My point exactly, my king.”

Brandis laughed at that.

“That’s a good one,” he said. “Perhaps I will find a fitting situation to use that analogy on the prince. If you would permit me.”

Valdan bowed his head. “It is yours to use as you see fit, my king.”

“What of his allegiance to anything else? His old world. This world. His purpose for being here.”

“I know nothing of his old world," Valdan answered. "If he ever thinks of it, he does not show it. As for this world, he does not speak of it. He does not ask me questions or show curiosity. When he is with me, he thinks only of training. If I was to give him any allegiance, my King, I would say that it would be to getting stronger.”

“Interesting,” Brandis mused. “I would not necessarily call it a good thing. But it is an interesting one. What of his brother? Does he speak of his brother?”

“No, my king.”

Brandis drummed his fingers against the top of his table in contemplation.

“I have been informed that he tends to spend most of his nights in his brother’s room," he said. "I had thought this meant they were close somehow, but the other instructors are leading me to believe that beyond spending their nights in the same room, they are not. Tell me, Sir Valdan, how do you think it would turn out if we were to add the older brother to your training sessions with Lord Lacheart the younger?”

“Unless the older brother possesses the same prowess and talent for the sword, I will not advise it. I fear it might demotivate the older brother to see his younger brother so vastly above him.”

“Really?” Brandis asked in genuine confusion. “I would’ve thought the time spent would breed healthy competition between the both of them.”

“It may. However, all I can give is my personal opinion, my king.”

“So he has shown allegiance to nothing but getting stronger,” Brandis mused almost to himself. “That is noted. Is there anything else you have to report before you are dismissed, Sir Valdan?”

“Yes, my king. It is with pleasure that I inform you that Lord Lacheart the younger, as at when I left him this evening, has gained his first level.”

Brandis barked a pleased laugh. It was short and quick. Controlled.

“That is great news. Perhaps the others will follow shortly. It is always good when a plan shows results." He reveled in his satisfaction a little longer before returning to a placid expression. "If that is all, you may take your leave.”

Sir Valdan bowed at the waist, then turned and made his exit.

The moment the door closed behind him, the mana in the room shifted slightly and Brandis sighed.

“Talking to these knights sometimes feels like talking to a brick wall," he said. "I miss the days when they weren’t so respectful of me. When we could laugh and talk, one man to another.”

“You were not king then.” The Sage strolled out of the side of the room to stand in front of the king’s table, as if walking out of nothing. “Being king has its bad, just as it has its good.”

Brandis rubbed his forehead with thumb and forefinger in exhaustion. “That much is true. But that is unimportant. You’ve heard the reports, what do you think?”

“The [Rogue] class seems like a possible offering,” the Sage said. “Then there’s the [Alchemist], the [Sword Master] and perhaps [Guide].”

Brandis cocked a brow. “Still?”

The Sage nodded.

“I find that unlikely,” Brandis said. “The [Guide] is a class offered to people with some level of allegiance, someone willing to show someone a path, a way. Someone willing to put others on the right path. You heard Sir Valdan, the boy cares for no one and shows interest in nothing but his own power.”

The Sage shrugged. “I still stand by my words. But you must remember that it is a prediction, and nothing more. As for Valdan’s familiarity with the boy’s way of fighting, pay it no heed. It is nothing of import.”

Brandis cocked a brow. “I was not going to. But hearing you point it out, I guess you already have an idea of what it is.”

“I do. But it is as you have said, an idea, and nothing more.”

“Alright then.” Brandis picked up the goblet on the table and took a sip from it. He turned on his chair and stared at the curtains that concealed the double-door behind him. “What about the other matters? What do we know of the developments in the East?”

“It will please you to learn that the kingdom of Nel Quan achieved success in their attempt only yesterday, though their numbers do not rival ours.”

“Good for them. And the South?”

“Our spies have confirmed that Mba-chukwu found success a week before us.”

Brandis’ hold on his goblet tightened. “As much as it irks me to fall behind them, it remains for the greater good. Their numbers?”

“Abysmal.”

Brandis nodded. “What of the North?”

“Nothing. We are yet to have an update of any kind.”

There was a moment of heavy hesitation. It stretched a brief silence between Brandis and the Sage. In the end, he asked the question he did not want to.

“And the Order?”

“Still going about their usual operations,” the Sage answered, unbothered. “If they have any interest in the subject, they have shown nothing to the world to support it.”

Brandis let out a tired sigh. The Order was the world’s wild card, and they were in no one else’s hands but their own, acting as they saw fit when they saw fit. They bowed to no one, signed no treaty unless as witnesses to it. They were allies to none and enemies to none. Which made them enemies to all.

Enemies we cannot vanquish.

They were like a natural disaster—measures could be set in place to mitigate damage, but ultimately, they were handled only on arrival. And damage was most often inevitable.

“That aside,” he said, returning his attention to the Sage. “Have we gotten a fitting first task for our otherworld guests?”

“We still have soldiers investigating the disturbance in the south,” the Sage answered. “So far we have detected demonic mana, but not at a level worth noting. It is my belief that by the time they each receive their class, something might become of it—a demonic forest, perhaps. The town there has been recording slowly growing number of disappearances.”

Brandis groaned. His feet began tapping against the ground.

“I hate this," he said after a while. "I hate everything about demonic mana. Even when we notice it, there is nothing we can do about it. We cannot dispel it or collect it or relocate it. And the only method of harnessing it is as disgusting as it is dishonorable, and even that does not dispel it. All we can do is wait until it manifests fully and causes problems. This is no way to live, Sage.”

“Everything happens for a reason, king Brandis.”

“A reason? So there was a reason for the deaths incurred from the summoning?” Brandis spat. “Is that what you are telling me?”

“Yes." The Sage remained unfazed. "We may not know what they are, but they are there.”

“A Sage that speaks like a priest.” Brandis shook his head in dismay. “Confusing. But it doesn’t matter. Once the problems begin to arise from the demonic mana, we will send the outworlders. However, and I cannot stress this enough, their safety is of the utmost importance. They must experience what battle truly feels like but not one of them is to suffer death. I will not sacrifice more than what is necessary.”

The Sage nodded. “Understood. Is this my dismissal for the night?”

Brandis almost laughed. As if he needs a dismissal to dismiss himself.

“No,” he said, instead with a raised a finger. “One more question before you go. Advice seeking, really. Do you think we should tell the outworlders?”

The Sage didn’t even bat an eye. “Of the sacrifices that came with their summoning or of the other kingdoms?”

“The other kingdoms.”

“Of the sacrifices? No. Never. It will only serve to distract them, and nothing good will come of it. Of the other kingdoms? Eventually.”

“And when exactly is eventually, Sage?”

“I cannot say. But the time will come.” The Sage turned away without being dismissed and started walking off to the side from where he’d come. “I know it may not seem that way sometimes, Brandis, but time, no matter how linear, is not as we believe. Even when time begins to act up, break and twirl. Even when you fear that one day it just might loop in on itself or reset, there will always be a time for everything.”

King Brandis watched the Sage disappear into one of the bookshelves as if there was nothing there. He simply stepped into it like a ghost or a wraith.

Sometimes he disliked conversations with the man. They often left him with more questions than answers, and mostly confused.

For instance, what was the purpose of the extended explanation of time? Was he hinting at something?

Brandis shook the worry from his mind, thinking of things he had some modicum of control over. He reached inside a drawer of his desk and pulled out a rolled up parchment.

Now that he was alone, or relatively so—because for all he knew the Sage could waltz in at any time, even though he never did—he unfurled the parchment and spread it out on his table. It was a large map with different graphs and diagrams drawn over it depicting geographical paths, mana paths, ley lines, tectonic shifts.

It was the accumulation of his years of research. His expression took on a deadly look as he stared at it, his brain working in search of a solution.

He had narrowed his search to a single continent. Now he just had to narrow it down to a smaller geographical location.

If he could just figure out where the Demon King’s castle was before the Demon King arrived, that would be half the battle won. They could storm it, lay waste to it before it became a defendable stronghold.

He placed his finger on a point on the map where he would be sending scouts to survey tomorrow.

Not for the first time, he asked himself a question he hated.

Why did it have to appear in my kingdom?

Because if he’d narrowed down the castle of the Demon King’s appearance to his kingdom, then he was certain the other kingdoms had.

It was only a matter of time before they all put aside their differences, came together, and demanded he surrender his kingdom to a council leadership until the Demon King threat is dealt with.

This was going to be a problem.

…..

Aiden stared at what his brother was holding in his arms and couldn’t believe it.

“This is what we’re being given for gear?” he asked, flabbergasted. “Nothing else?”

“You do remember that this isn’t some sanctioned thing we’re doing, right?” Ted asked. “We’re quite literally sneaking out of the palace on an illegal daring-do.”

“With nothing but a sword and—” Aiden leaned in for a closer look “—please tell me that that’s not an orb light.”

“It is an orb light, Aiden. A portable one.”

Aiden ran a frustrated hand down his face.

“How the hell did you people survive without any casualties?” he muttered to himself.

“What did you say?” Ted asked.

Aiden shook his head. “Nothing important. Just tell me that we at least get jepats.”

“What are those?”

Aiden remembered the bipedal creatures. They had heads like alpacas and feet like ostriches with hooves. It was really disturbing if you weren't accustomed to them. He also remembered how irked by them he had been in the beginning.

“They are this world’s version of horses,” he answered.

“For the six of us?” Ted snorted. “You wish. We might as well announce what we are trying to do.”

Aiden couldn’t believe this. Yes, the monsters would be level one goblins, but it seemed none of them understood just what the difference between a level one and a level zero was.

With a groan, he walked up to Ted and took a sheathed sword from him.

“Let’s just go get this over with.”