The morning air in Isaac’s pavilion was cloaked in a thin mist. Dew still clung to the large glass windows, reflecting the orange light sneaking in from the eastern horizon. In the middle of the dim and quiet room, a ten-year-old boy sat cross-legged, barely breathing. Eyes closed. Hands resting on his knees. His face was serious—completely unlike the lazy expression he usually wore in front of his family.His forehead glistened with sweat despite the cold air. His chest rose and fell slowly. A drop of blood dripped from his nostril, but he didn’t move.“Just a bit more... just a little more,” Isaac thought, gritting his teeth behind closed lips.Mana coursed through his body like a warm current, spiraling from his core, circling through his arms, down to his legs, rising again to his head, and ending at his chest. He had shaped that spiral himself, using a pattern once employed by the Archdemons to heal grave wounds.“This body is weak... but it can be trained. I just need... to endur

The late afternoon sky had begun to fade, allowing golden-yellow light to spill over the Ackerman family training arena. The air, usually crisp and fresh, now felt colder, casting a thin mist across the sandy ground. Around the arena, several noble students had gathered with curious expressions, whispering quietly as they occasionally glanced toward the two boys preparing to duel. The tension in the air was thick—so much so that even the usually cheerful students seemed subdued.Isaac stood slightly hunched, facing Edgar who stood upright and proud before him. His face remained flat, almost lazy, as if he didn’t care about what was about to happen. His eyes scanned Edgar from top to bottom—his blue robe, his wavy hair, and that confident expression that suggested he believed the world belonged to him. Isaac already knew what was in Edgar’s mind. This wasn’t just training. This was a battle for pride.Edgar eyed him, evaluating. “What, scared?” he said with a mocking tone, though he kne

The night sky hung dark over Eldoria. Clouds covered the moon, making the castle’s back garden nearly invisible without any light. The leaves swayed gently as the cold wind slipped through the cracks in the stone walls.Isaac peeked from behind his bedroom door. He held his breath. Silence. Only the distant sound of snoring from the servants’ quarters could be faintly heard.“Good. Everyone’s asleep,” he muttered quietly, then slipped out like a shadow. His steps were light but quick.He carefully descended the castle hallway, taking the rarely used side corridor. In his left hand, he held a piece of dry bread from dinner that he had intentionally saved—not to eat, but as a distraction if he needed to divert the attention of any guard dogs.Finally, he arrived at the back garden. Dark. Only the dim light of an old oil lamp on the castle walls offered weak illumination. Isaac stared at the large pile of stones that the gardeners usually used to build the plant fence.“Today... ten laps,

Isaac sat on the edge of his bed, his gaze blank, piercing through the dark night. The cold wind entered through the slightly open window, brushing through his disheveled hair. His heart felt heavy, as if burdened by something he couldn’t shake off. After the night filled with threats, his mind was crowded with unanswered questions. What should he do? What was the next step?“All this time, I thought magic and physical strength would be enough…” he thought, his right hand trembling slightly as he remembered the power he couldn’t fight against last night. The intruder, the dark magic. Too great. Too dangerous.Isaac stood up and walked to the window, staring out. The silent manor below offered no answers. Tonight, the stars were hidden behind dark clouds. But this world is harsher than I imagined. There’s no room for mistakes.That feeling crept up again, a new awareness pressing on Isaac’s chest. “If I keep going like this, relying only on strength and magic, I’ll lose. I’ll be trapped

The scent of wet earth filled the morning air as a thin mist enveloped the Ackerman family estate. The gray sky stretched grimly above the cold stone rooftops. The birds seemed reluctant to sing, as if they knew that this morning was not like any other.In the study located in the east wing of the large house, Duke Reinhardt Ackerman sat motionless behind his oak desk. His dark cloak was neatly folded over his shoulder, and his dark brown hair, swept back, was slightly messy, leaving an impression of unease. In front of him, the invitation from Avalon Magic Academy lay open, the royal crest proudly emerging from the blood-red wax seal.He stared at the letter for a long time, as if the letters would transform into poison."A place where the children of nobles are either educated... or eliminated," he murmured quietly.His fingers clenched slowly, slamming the desk silently. He knew well the true face of the noble world. He had seen sweet smiles turn into civil wars. He had once smelled