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To rise, one must first confront the ground beneath them.

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A family of three sat together at a long table, but it felt like they were worlds apart. The father sat at the head, the farthest from the others. The mother, calm and distant, ate quietly. The boy, barely ten, stared at his plate, absentmindedly pushing his food around.

Finally, the father broke the silence.

“How’s your training?”

The boy kept his eyes down.

“It’s fine, Father.”

The father’s face twisted with anger. He grabbed his plate and hurled it at the wall.

Crash!

The boy flinched but didn’t dare lift his head.

Thump... thump.... thump!

The mother, unfazed, continued eating, her eyes fixed on her plate as if nothing had happened.

“Fine?”

“You call that fine? You can’t even learn the basics of our family’s swordsmanship! At your age, I had already mastered it.”

The boy’s hands trembled under the table, gripping his knees tightly.

“You’re a disgrace!”

“It’d be better if you weren’t born into this family. Maybe you’d be better off dead.”

For a moment, the only sound was the father’s heavy breathing.

Huff… huff… huff…

Then, the mother smiled—cold and distant. She picked up her glass of wine, taking a slow sip, as if her husband’s outburst hadn’t just shattered the silence.

Lucian!

You are a disgrace!

Huff…huff.. huff… huff…

Thump... thump..

In a dimly lit room, a young man with dark violet hair shot up, clutching his chest. His breathing was quick and shaky, sweat dripping down his face. His eyes darted around, a wild mix of fear and anger flashing in them as he tried to pull himself together.

Lucian.

He rubbed his face, still haunted by the nightmare. It wasn’t just a bad dream—it was a memory.

A soft knock at the door broke the silence. A maid stepped inside, her voice calm and composed.

“Master Lucian, your father has summoned you.”

Lucian’s jaw tightened. He pushed the sweat-soaked hair from his face and stood, his hands clenching into fists.

“Tell him I’m on my way,”

The maid nodded and left as silently as she had come.

Lucian stared at the door for a moment, his chest still heaving slightly. Then, with a deep breath, he straightened his posture, pulling the mask of composure back over his face.

Lucian pushed open the heavy wooden door to his father’s study. The room was dimly lit, with only a single lamp casting a pale glow over the large desk in the center. His father sat behind it, his fingers rhythmically tapping the surface, creating a steady, unnerving beat.

The air between them was thick with tension. Neither spoke at first. Lucian’s father, Lord Valemont, fixed him with a piercing gaze, his face as unreadable as ever.

Lucian clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. The pain helped clear his head, letting him hide the chaos in his mind. He kept holding on until he felt a small trickle of blood beneath his gloves.

Finally, Lord Valemont rose from his chair. He didn’t rush. Each movement was calculated, his boots echoing softly as he paced around the desk. He stopped in front of Lucian, studying him for a long moment.

“Congratulations,”

“You passed the Trial of the Arcane Flame. And the only one to pass at that.”

There was no smile, no pride in his expression. His words, though meant to praise, felt more like a statement of fact than celebration.

Lucian smirked slightly, bowing his head. “Thank you, Father.”

He turned to leave, his hand already on the door, when his father’s voice stopped him.

“Lucian.”

He paused, his back still to his father.

“You’re better be aware of your next goal. You’ve proven yourself to be one of the pillar of this family, but that’s not enough.” Lord Valemont’s voice was calm, yet commanding.

“You must aim higher. Join the strongest. Become a Sentinel.”

There was a pause, just long enough for his words to sink in.

“You were born to lead, Lucian. Anything less would be a waste of your potential. You must aim higher and represent our family.” His tone carried a subtle edge, a reminder that Lucian’s achievements were not his own—they were a reflection of his father’s legacy.

Lucian nodded slowly. “Yes, Father.” His voice was even, but inside, his chest tightened.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Lord Valemont returned to his desk, satisfied. “Good. Don’t disappoint me.”

Without saying another word, Lucian walked out, his mind racing with the pressure of his father’s expectations. As the door shut behind him, he exhaled slowly. The way forward was clear, but it felt like the weight of it had never been heavier.

~

I opened the door to my room and stepped out, the cool morning greeting me. The day felt promising—Blackspire was only a few hours away, and I had a lead on a decent blacksmith.

As I walked through the estate, I noticed one of the older workers struggling with a cart piled high with rocks. Every push seemed like it might be his last. His face was red, sweat dripping down his face as he grunted with effort.

I sighed and walked over. “Need a hand with that?”

Before I could even touch the cart, the old man slapped my hand away.

“Don’t need your help, boy,”

“I’ve been pushing this cart before you could even walk. I’ll handle my own.”

I held up my hands, taking a step back. “Alright, alright. Have a great day old man.”

He grunted something under his breath and went back to pushing. I didn’t take it personally. People like him? They had their pride. I respected that.

As I walked away, I glanced back over my shoulder. Sure enough, the cart’s wheel was stuck in a deep rut. The old man was too stubborn to ask for help, but I could already see the frustration bubbling under his tough exterior.

I smirked to myself. Fine. If he didn’t want help, I’d just make it easier for him without him knowing.

When his back was turned, I casually strolled by and gave the cart a solid kick. The wheel popped free, and the cart rolled forward like nothing had happened. The old man grunted in approval, probably thinking he’d done it himself.

“Enjoy the smooth ride,” I muttered under my breath as I continued down the road.

With my double blade securely strapped to my back, I felt a quiet sense of purpose. Blackspire wasn’t far now, and Rurik, the blacksmith Garrick mentioned, was supposed to be one of the best around.

The road stretched out before me, just like Garrick had described. I kept a steady pace, the path winding gently through fields and small clusters of trees. The journey was calm, almost too quiet, but I didn’t mind.

I passed a few travelers on the way—merchants guiding their carts, a group of adventurers talking loudly, and even a couple of mothers walking hand in hand with their kids.

A little further down, he noticed a lake just off the path. A group of kids were fishing, their poles clumsily balanced in their small hands. One of them jumped up, shouting with excitement as he pulled a tiny fish from the water.

Alistair chuckled to himself. This place really is something else. The calmness here felt like a world away from the intensity of the trials he’d seen.

For the first time in a while, Alistair felt a strange sense of peace. He wasn’t used to it, but he could understand why people would want to settle in a place like this.

Still, he wasn’t here for sightseeing. Blackspire and Rurik were waiting.

The walk wasn’t bad. Honestly, he liked it. It felt like he was pushing himself, like every step was part of some training.

After what felt like forever, I finally saw it—the city. Its architecture wasn’t what I expected. The buildings were dark, almost gothic, but with a weird charm. The roofs sloped at sharp angles, and the streets were lined with lanterns that gave off a faint, bluish glow.

It was quiet. Too quiet. There weren’t many people around. No bustling markets or street performers like in Vermillion. Just a handful of folks going about their business.

I kept walking, my eyes taking in the scene. A few shops here and there, nothing too fancy. Even the air felt thicker. Still, it wasn’t bad—just different. Calm.

I noticed an older man leaning against a wooden post, chewing on what looked like dried meat. He seemed like he might know something.

“Excuse me,” I said, stepping closer. “Do you know where I can find Rurik, the blacksmith?”

The man squinted at me and then pointed his thumb toward a narrow alley. “Down that way. Last door on the right. Follow my instructions and you will not miss it.”

“Thanks,” I said, already heading in that direction.

This city might be quiet, but something about it made me feel like I was stepping into a whole new world.

I kept walking, following the directions, but then I heard shouting up ahead. It was loud, and definitely not the peaceful kind of noise.

I quickly rushed over to the commotion and saw a huge guy, just as big as a wall, along with two others. He was the one shouting, and he was yelling at a girl.

"Why you so clumsy you bitch!"

I didn’t jump in right away, knowing that understanding the situation was the first step before acting. I wanted to figure out what was going on.

[Observer’s Eye]

They’re weak...

They might be big, but they’re definitely not a threat. I could take them if it comes down to it.

Then I saw some food splattered across the big guy’s clothes. The girl must’ve done it by accident

[Observer’s Eye]

Lilith

Age: 17

She straightened up and said, “It was just an accident. I’m sorry.”

The three guys started to ease up as she apologized.

But then, her expression changed to something smug, almost teasing.

I definitely didn’t expect what came next.

“You ugly trolls, I’m not apologizing for something I didn’t even mean to do.”

I raised an eyebrow. This girl definitely had guts.

The big guy took a step closer to the girl, raising his hand to slap her. That’s when I decided to step in, grabbing his wrist before it could land. He whipped his head toward me, his eyes narrowing.

For a moment, there was silence.

The girl and I exchanged a quick glance. Her eyes were wide, but then—without a word—she bolted. Like, full-on sprinted away, her black hair flying behind her.

“Wow,” I muttered, watching her disappear. “Guess that’s one way to handle things.”

The guy tried to shake his arm free, but my grip was solid. I sighed. “We can do this the easy way, or—”

He growled and cut me off with a wild punch. Big mistake.

I stepped aside, letting his fist miss.

This is the best time to try Avelar. the martial arts that I've acquired.

It’s all about balance and quick strikes—faster than they can react.

I shifted my weight, spun on my heel, and slammed an open palm into his side. He staggered back, gasping for air. Before he could recover, I moved in close, landing a quick series of hits—two to the ribs, one to the jaw. He dropped like a ragdoll.

His friends charged at me without a second thought. One threw a wild punch. I ducked, sweeping his legs out from under him. He hit the ground hard, the air rushing out of his lungs with a loud whoof.

The last guy hesitated for just a moment too long. I closed the gap, landing a clean jab to his temple. His eyes rolled back, and he dropped next to the others.

“That wasn’t too bad,”

“Might even call it a workout.”

I adjusted the double blade on my back and kept walking toward Rurik’s place.

As I moved away from the scene, I noticed a few residents watching me. Some looked impressed, others didn’t seem to care, and a couple were just frozen in shock, staring at the pile of unconscious guys behind me.

I wasn’t sticking around for their reactions, though. I kept walking.

[You gained +2 to all stats, excluding aura.]

"Not bad," I muttered with a smirk. "Small boost, but I'll take it."

The path eventually led me up a hill, and at the top, I saw a house. It looked solid, made from dark stone, with smoke rising from the chimney. This had to be it.

As I got closer, I heard the unmistakable sound of metal hitting metal—sharp, steady, and heavy. Someone was definitely working inside.

When I reached the door, I knocked three times. No answer.

The hammering continued. I waited a few seconds, then knocked again. Still nothing.

“Guess I’ll let myself in,” I said under my breath, pushing the door open.

Inside, the heat hit me first, along with the smell of burning coal and molten metal. A large man stood at the forge, his back to me. He was big, though not as hulking as the guys from earlier. His white hair and beard caught the light, giving him an almost regal look.

He didn’t turn around. “I’m not taking any new orders,” he said, his voice rough but steady. “Busy enough as it is.”

I stepped closer, keeping my tone respectful. ""Garrick sent me. He said you're the best in the kingdom, and I need you to take a look at something."

That got his attention. He paused mid-swing, setting the hammer down, and finally turned to face me. His eyes, sharp and calculating, locked onto mine.

“Garrick, huh?” He crossed his arms, sizing me up. “Well, if he sent you, you better have a good reason for interrupting my work.”

“I do,” I said, standing tall.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.

Without saying a word, I reached into my bag and pulled out the Obsidianite.

Rurik’s eyes widened the second he saw it. He leaned forward, his gruff exterior cracking for the first time.

“Where the hell did you get this?”

“Let’s just say it was a weird day,” I replied casually.

He frowned, clearly not satisfied. “Weird day, huh? You don’t look a day over eighteen. How does someone your age come across something this rare?”

Screen appeared.

[He is curious about you]

[He thinks you’re bluffing]

I didn’t respond, letting the silence do the heavy lifting.

Rurik huffed, grabbing the Obsidianite from my hand with surprising care. His massive fingers, covered in soot and scars, cradled the stone like it was a newborn.

He examined it, turning it over and holding it up to the light.

“This… this is the real deal,” he muttered to himself, more than a little impressed.

Just then, the door behind him creaked open, and a girl’s voice called out, “Father, lunch is ready.”

I turned, and our eyes locked.

It was her.

The black-haired girl from earlier, the one with the sharp tongue and even run like a horse. She blinked, clearly recognizing me too.

For a second, the room felt way smaller than it was.

“You,” she said, her voice a mix of surprise and suspicion.

"Really? what a small world.” I replied.