They both arrived at the mansion in silence. William quickly gathered his belongings and packed everything into a small leather bag. Despite having some money, he had never felt the need to buy anything valuable—he didn't know what fate held in store, and preferred to always be ready to run.
Before leaving, he knelt beside his bed and pulled out his only valuable possession: a two-handed sword, carefully wrapped in cloth. At the base of the hilt, embedded in the metal, a red gem shimmered faintly. This was no ordinary blade.
As he stepped out of the room, Jayce caught sight of the sword and froze for a moment, eyes narrowing.
—"Nice sword... Come with me," he said, tone unreadable.
Without a word, William followed, though a tight feeling sat in his chest. He couldn't help but wonder if Jayce would want the sword badly enough to take it by force. He trusted him—mostly—but the thought still crept in.
They walked a few minutes until they reached the waiting carriage. Jayce headed straight to the back and pulled out a large reinforced chest.
—"Put your sword in here, along with your things." He nodded toward the chest. "Just looking at the markings, anyone with half a brain for magical tools would know what you're carrying. Your necklace stays hidden under your clothes, but that sword? Way too flashy. Don't let anyone see it unless you're ready for serious trouble. Around here, magical blacksmiths and alchemists are rare as hell. Any enchanted weapon or potion can sell for a hundred times the price you'd find back in the magical continent."
Hearing that, William felt a pang of guilt. He'd been worried about being robbed, and now he felt foolish. He lowered his head slightly.
—"Sorry for doubting you..." he muttered.
Jayce chuckled and clapped a hand on his shoulder.
—"Don't worry about it. Anyone would be nervous carrying something that valuable. Let's get moving—we've got three hours before the ship arrives, and it's a two-hour ride."
They climbed into the carriage and sat up front, the horses picking up speed as the countryside rolled by. After a few minutes of silence, William broke it.
—"Sir... Did you go to Black Rock?"
Jayce nodded slowly, keeping his eyes on the road.
—"Yeah... a long time ago. I was a noble too, back then. Thought I was better than everyone. But once I got there, I realized how damn stupid that mindset was. I focused on training, climbed the ranks. I almost made it to Grand Knight, but an accident left me too badly wounded."
—"I'm sorry."
—"Don't be. I've still got time. Most of us posted out here are still earning merits. If I ever make it back to the magical continent as a Grandmaster, I might have a real shot at something big."
Silence fell again, the road and wheels the only sound. Then Jayce spoke again, his voice lower, more serious.
—"Kid... I know I've said it already, but the place you're going is insanely dangerous. If you're not careful, you won't even realize how you died. Keep training with your sword, every damn day. The best fuel for a knight's growth has always been the blood of his enemies."
He paused, as if weighing whether to go on.
—"This is something I probably shouldn't tell you, but I will—because you remind me of someone. The difference between a regular knight and a great one... is aura. Just like mages have magic, we knights have aura. Watch."
Jayce drew his sword in one smooth motion. Immediately, a red glow enveloped the blade, soft but vibrant.
—"This is aura. I never fully ascended, but I got close enough to unleash it. Aura doesn't come from mana. It comes from will. It's what lets us fight mages without fear. And believe me, when you see real magic, you're going to crave it. Every fiber of you will want that power. But a mage without mana? He's a dead fish on dry land. Always keep a trump card up your sleeve."
—"Thank you, Commander. I won't slack off. I'll keep my body sharp."
After their talk, they finally arrived at the port, and chaos greeted them. Crowds were split into groups by recruiters and soldiers. At the center stood the six girls who had passed the magical selection, their luggage stacked behind them, and in the middle of them all stood Aurus—firm, unmoving, his gaze locked on the endless ocean ahead.
William wanted to greet him, but the master's expression was too grim. He held back.
Around them, the other groups watched William with clear hostility. In the far corner of the port, a line of ragged people were being shoved forward by armored soldiers. Old nobles, now slaves, dragged chains attached to their ankles, wrists, and necks. William recognized many of them. In just a few months, they had withered into shadows of their former selves, their bodies thin, their nobility stripped away.
They were forced to sit on the ground like cattle, chained and silent.
From the opposite side, a second group approached—led by a squad of well-equipped knights. These were the new knight candidates, and among them William spotted his eleven friends. They looked awful—beaten, dirty, heads bowed in shame. Behind them marched dozens of young nobles clad in light armor and carrying shields bearing the crests of their houses. They were laughing, clearly mocking the eleven.
Behind them came even more soldiers, not caring in the slightest.
The sight made William's blood boil. He clenched his fists, his jaw tightening as rage built in his chest. Without thinking, he stepped forward, eyes burning.
—"Bastards…" he muttered, his steps growing quicker as he moved toward the scene, fury surging with each step.