The courtyard was alive with the sound of steel clashing and the rhythmic thud of boots striking packed earth. Dust lingered in the air like fog as sweat-slicked knights practiced under the noon sun. Yet in the midst of all this movement, I stood still—silent and motionless, my thoughts drifting deeper than any blade could pierce. It wasn't until then that Longinus finally noticed me.
Longinus's Point of View
I stood tall in the center of the training field, surrounded by a circle of knights. My voice carried over the grunts and clanging swords as I announced the end of today's drills.
"That's enough for now," I said firmly. "Prepare yourselves. Sparring begins shortly."
Turning away from the group, my gaze fell on Markus—my right-hand man and the second-strongest knight among us, bested only by me. He had always been dependable, efficient, and unwavering in the face of pressure.
Markus wasn't as tall as I was—not by a long shot—but he towered over most of the other men. He had thick black hair streaked with hints of deep blue that caught the sunlight when he moved. His eyes were a piercing indigo, intense and unreadable. Unlike the rest of the knights who wielded standard longswords, Markus carried a sheathed katana strapped at his hip—a weapon as unique and refined as he was.
"Markus," I called to him as I approached. "Keep an eye on them for me, will you?"
He turned with a slight nod, replying without hesitation. "Understood."
But before either of us could move to our next task, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed across the training field. It was deliberate—calm, almost regal in rhythm. Every knight, Markus and I included, turned toward the sound.
And there he was.
Michael Von Ashford.
Young, pale, and cold-eyed, he crossed the field like a shadow that didn't quite belong in the sunlight. His noble bloodline marked him, but it was the chilling aura that trailed behind him that silenced the field.
Around me, hushed whispers spread like wildfire.
---
Whispers Among the Knights
Knight 1 (whispering, standing at the edge of the field): "Why does Longinus waste his time on him? He's just a C-rank. Doesn't matter who his father is."
Knight 2 (nervously glancing over his shoulder): "Careful. You really want him to hear you? You remember what he did to that servant last month, right? Just because the soup was too cold."
Knight 3 (grimly): "Cold soup, cold stare... and a cold corpse by sundown. That's Michael Von Ashford for you. The boy's got ice in his veins."
Knight 1 (scoffing): "Doesn't matter if he's noble. He walks around like he's some god already. No divine blessing, no real strength—just his father's name and a thirst for blood."
Knight 2 (low, uncertain): "And Longinus? Why follow him around like a loyal hound? Michael's never going to reach his level."
Knight 3: "Some say Longinus owes the Ashfords. Others say he sees potential. But me? I think he just pities him."
Knight 1 (disgusted): "Or maybe he's just keeping the dog on a leash. That kid ever snaps the wrong way, someone's getting gutted."
Knight 2 (softly, seriously): "He may not be strong, but he doesn't hesitate. That's the dangerous part."
Knight 3: "Yeah. He doesn't fear killing. Doesn't even flinch when someone begs. That kind of heartless mind... I pray he never gets a blessing."
Knight 1 (mocking tone): "Let's hope fate agrees. The last thing this world needs is that monster with divine power."
---
I heard every word.
Without saying a thing, I turned my head slightly and met Markus's eyes. He understood instantly.
With a sharp glance, he addressed the gossiping knights and ordered them to the far side of the field—far away from Michael. They dispersed, grumbling under their breath, but they obeyed. Markus looked at me once more, gave a brief nod, then turned and walked away to oversee their sparring.
That left only Michael and me, standing alone in the vast open space of the training field.
He remained still, staring into the void, as if lost in a distant thought far beyond our world.
---
End of Longinus's POV
Return to Michael's POV
When Longinus's gaze finally found me, the other knights followed suit. I felt their stares like knives on my back. The whispering grew louder in my mind, but I didn't flinch. I saw them. I heard them. I knew what they said.
But I let it go.
I wasn't going to kill them.
I never had. Not once in my entire life.
Maybe Michael Von Ashford had left corpses behind him in every direction, cold and merciless...
But I am not him.
I am Ray Sith. And this is my body now.
I would never take a life without a reason.
Longinus approached me, his armor barely making a sound as he moved. His expression was unreadable, but there was no malice in his eyes—only a measured kind of respect.
He stopped in front of me, placed a hand over his chest, and bowed slightly.
"Usual training today, young master?" he asked calmly.
I nodded once, voice flat and emotionless.
"Yes… but… I want to work on my magic as well."
Without missing a beat, Longinus knelt down and picked up two wooden training swords. He tossed one my way, and I caught it without thought.
"First, we spar," he said, his tone as steady as the earth beneath our feet. "Then we move on to magic. Does that sound acceptable, young master?"
I nodded again, but inside I was screaming.
How am I going to survive this?
Please, let his muscle memory kick in soon, I prayed silently. If it doesn't, I'll leave this field in pieces.
I raised the wooden sword and assumed my stance. The air between us tensed, and the silence grew heavy. I wasn't ready—not yet. But I had no choice.
The monster they thought I was… I had to prove them wrong. Or become one in truth.