Chapter 5: About the World
Three and a half years had passed since Lucen De Vermithorne received his name. Now five years old, he had become more than a child of noble blood — he was a silent observer, a patient learner, and a quiet collector of secrets about the world he had been reborn into.
He shifted slightly in the heavy ceremonial robes, the dark velvet brushing softly against his skin. He watched the flickering torches along the cold stone walls, their light bending and weaving like restless spirits.
During these years, Lucen learned that this world had no absolute ruler. Kingdoms rose and fell, power shifted in the shadows, and no single throne commanded the world's will. In this realm, strength defined destiny — whether that strength was drawn from the ancient art of magic or the disciplined path of the sword.
Sword aura was the foundation of the Vermithorne family legacy, a path of relentless trials and iron discipline. Lucen understood its five stages:
The first stage was the Sword Trainer.Here, warriors forged their bodies with endless physical training, learning to sense the subtle currents of mana that flowed through all living things. Lucen often watched the older soldiers in the courtyard — their sweat glistening on sun-darkened skin, the steady clack of wooden practice swords echoing in the early dawn.
The second stage was the Mana Aquirer.In this stage, a warrior opened the hidden dome of their mana core within their body, drawing in the world's power and choosing their elemental affinity — one of the eight great elements:
Fire
Water
Wind
Earth
Lightning
Darkness
Time
Space
Beyond these primal forces lay countless sub-elements, secret threads woven into the heart of the world. Lucen remembered tracing those elemental symbols in dusty tomes, the weight of history pressing down on every page. Strengthening the mana within the core was the first step toward forging a power worthy of legend.
The third stage was to Acquire Sword Aura.With their mana core filled and strengthened, a warrior would forge their unique sword aura — a manifestation of soul and bloodline. Its color was a reflection of their very essence. Some, like Malzareth Vermithorne, Lucen's father, awakened powers that bent the very laws of nature — time itself, to slow or quicken the world. Others found nothing but raw force in their aura — yet even that was enough to earn the name of warrior.
Lucen's small hand flexed at his side. He could almost feel the pulse of power in the air around him — an echo of that distant realm of warriors and legends.
The fourth stage was the Domain Realm.Here, a warrior's soul became a forge. Before breaking through, one had to create a mind realm — a microcosm of thought and will. When that mind realm was ready, it could be brought into reality as a domain: an absolute field shaped by element, ability, and soul. But without mastery, a domain could consume its wielder in a heartbeat. Lucen sometimes wondered what his own mind realm would look like — a question that sent a small thrill through his chest.
The fifth and final stage was transcendence — the stage where mind and world became one. Here, a warrior's mind realm was no longer a mere reflection but a living, breathing reality. Lucen knew this was where his father stood — a peak few could ever hope to reach.
Alongside the sword's path, Lucen learned of the magicians — those who formed nine circles around their hearts to store mana and shape spells. At the seventh circle, even they created mind realms. But magic was a world shrouded in secrecy, and Lucen found only fragments of knowledge. The ancient feud between sword and spell still burned bright in every corner of the land.
Yet not all secrets Lucen learned were about the world beyond. Some truths lay within the Vermithorne family itself. He paused for a moment in the doorway, adjusting the ceremonial robe that felt too big for his small shoulders.
"The elder council," Lucen thought with quiet disdain, "is fucking a headache. Seriously, they support each of my brothers like they're building their own kingdoms. Oh… I almost forgot — my brothers' mother was the late wife of my father. After her death, my father married my mother, Cristiyana, and had me. But my father and mother… they love each other. My mother even loves the twins. So I have no problem with it."
He caught sight of his reflection in a polished silver plate — a fleeting glimpse of crimson eyes and dark hair. In this family, affection was both a weapon and a secret. Each week, they gathered — father, mother, and children — sharing warmth that vanished the moment the meal ended. In this house of shadows and power, Lucen learned early: bonds could be twisted, used against them by those who watched.
"Also," he mused, smoothing a wrinkle in his sleeve, "in this family, once an heir turns eight, they leave the house under a false identity to build their own force. That's why my brothers left the castle right after my second birthday. They'll return at fifteen… stronger and ready to claim their place."
And always, Luna was there. Chosen by Lucen himself when he was only a year and a half old, she had become his silent shadow — a constant presence, always just behind him but never speaking. She never answered his questions with words, only shook her head gently, as if the weight of her silence was all she could offer. Lucen could not remember a time without her by his side.
"I think she has some kind of trauma," he thought, his crimson eyes flickering with patient resolve. "Well… let's wait and see."
On this day, the day of his formal naming ceremony, the air was thick with incense and ancient expectation. The flickering torchlight threw long shadows across the cold stone walls. Lucen shifted his weight from one small foot to the other, feeling the heavy air settle around him like a cloak.
His nanny entered, her voice calm and composed."Young master," she said softly. "It's time for your sword training."
Lucen let out a soft breath, his expression calm and resigned. "Ok," he said, his small voice steady. "Let's go, nanny."
(This is gonna suck.)
Yet even as he stepped into the cold corridor, his small fists clenched and relaxed in a quiet rhythm. In this world of eight great elements and endless ambition, with Luna's silent shadow always behind him, Lucen De Vermithorne would carve his own path — one stage at a time, one breath at a time.