The morning air in the Omni Castle's garden shimmered with faint strands of divine energy. Dewdrops hung like tiny suns upon golden petals, and the songs of spirit-birds rippled through the leaves. To the untrained eye, it was simply beautiful. But to one who could sense mana, it was alive — the entire garden pulsing faintly with the breath of the Omniverse itself.
Loryn walked along the pale stone path that curved through the vast gardens. His steps were unhurried, almost thoughtful. Ten days had passed since the training ground incident — ten days since he had felt his body buckle under his father's testing aura, his lungs screaming for air, and the taste of blood in his mouth.
He touched his lips unconsciously, remembering the faint metallic sting.
I'm still weak, he thought bitterly. Even after all the training, all the lessons. I couldn't even last a breath under Father's pressure.
But then, a faint smile curved his lips. At least I survived it.
The golden light of morning reflected off his hair as he passed under the archway of spirit vines. To anyone watching, he looked like a calm young noble strolling through his father's gardens — but inside, his mind was a storm.
The Omni Queen would scold me again if she saw me wandering like this. She worries too much. Father… he'd probably say nothing, just watch in silence, like he always does. But I can't keep hiding behind them.
He stopped near the marble fountain shaped like a coiling dragon. Water poured from its fanged mouth into a pool where koi-like spirit fish swam lazily, their bodies glowing faintly. He stared at his reflection in the water — the sharp gold eyes, the faint scar near his neck from training, the boy who still looked too young for the weight of the name he carried.
I can't always be the prince. If I want to enter the academy as a commoner, I need to stop relying on who my parents are.
A quiet wind passed through the garden, carrying the scent of mana flowers. The petals danced, swirling around him like motes of light. He exhaled, letting the air clear his mind. Then, he turned and made his way toward the inner castle — toward the Council Chamber.
---
The corridor to the Council Chamber was one of the oldest parts of the castle. Each wall bore carvings of great battles — the wars of gods, the ascension of monarchs, and the forging of the Omniverse's laws. The path itself glowed faintly, lit by runes that pulsed in rhythm with the Omni King's divine presence.
Two Knight Captains stood guard before the massive silver-gold doors of the chamber. Their armor gleamed under the sacred light. They were newly appointed — Loryn could tell by the faint stiffness in their stance.
He approached them calmly.
"Tell the Omni King that his son has come," Loryn said. His tone was measured — not arrogant, but authoritative.
The left captain raised his halberd slightly, crossing it before the door. "The Council is in session, young prince. None may enter without summons."
Loryn blinked, taken aback. Few had ever spoken to him like that.
A small spark of irritation lit in his chest, but then another thought rose to the surface. If I'm serious about walking as a commoner, maybe I should get used to this.
He sighed softly. "I understand," he said, stepping back. "Then at least inform the King that I—"
But before he could finish, the massive doors behind the knights opened with a slow, resonant creak.
A tall man emerged.
He wore immaculate white noble robes, simple yet refined, trimmed with faint gold that caught the light with each step. His hair was black, darker than midnight, falling in neat strands to his shoulders. His eyes — pure, bottomless black — held no malice, yet their calmness seemed to command the very air to still.
The knights immediately lowered their halberds.
Loryn recognized him instantly. "...Rowlan."
The man inclined his head, his movement as smooth as flowing water. "Young master," he said, voice calm yet resonant. "What is this disturbance before the council doors?"
Neither knight dared to speak.
Rowlan turned his gaze to them, not with anger, but with a silence that pressed upon their souls. "Explain yourselves."
One stammered, "L-Lord Rowlan, we were merely—"
Rowlan lifted a hand. The knight fell silent at once.
He turned back to Loryn, his tone softening. "Forgive them, young master. They are newly appointed and still unused to proper decorum. Please overlook their insolence."
Loryn hesitated, unsure whether to scold or forgive. In truth, he wasn't angry — just surprised. But something in Rowlan's voice carried weight, like steel wrapped in silk.
He looked up at the man's calm expression, and suddenly, a memory surfaced.
---
Flashback – Six Years Ago
The palace garden looked the same then — bright, warm, filled with laughter and the scent of mana blossoms. A much smaller Loryn darted between flower beds, wooden practice sword in hand.
"Alther, look!" he shouted, swinging the toy blade at a passing spirit-butterfly. It, of course, dodged gracefully, and the boy stumbled, falling into the grass.
Alther chuckled from nearby, his silver hair catching the sun. "You swing like a wild bird, not a swordsman."
Loryn pouted. "Then teach me!"
"Not yet," Alther said. "You're still too small to hold a real blade. For now, play. The time for battle will come soon enough."
Loryn frowned, sitting cross-legged in the grass. "Then tell me something interesting. You always talk about cultivation and knights. Tell me about someone strong. Like Father… or Mother."
Alther's gaze flicked toward the distant castle towers. For a moment, his usual calm expression softened into something thoughtful. "Strong, you say…" He looked back at Loryn. "You've seen Rowlan, haven't you?"
"Father's butler?"
A faint smile crossed Alther's lips. "Yes. The man who brings your meals, tends to the gardens, and makes sure the castle runs perfectly. Do you know who he truly is?"
Loryn tilted his head. "A servant?"
Alther chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Not just a servant, young master. He was once my master — the one who taught me before I stood where I am now."
Loryn's eyes widened. "Wait—your master?! Then he must be strong!"
Alther's tone grew quiet, almost reverent. "Stronger than you can imagine. Rowlan is an Eighth Rank Cultivator, one of only a handful across the Omniverse. He served your father not out of duty, but by choice. He could destroy worlds with a breath… yet he chooses to polish floors and serve tea. That is the kind of strength that doesn't need to shout."
Loryn stared in awe, trying to imagine the soft-spoken butler wielding such impossible power.
"Remember this," Alther said, standing and looking toward the castle. "Power that bends the world is nothing compared to power that controls itself."
The young boy nodded slowly, though he didn't yet understand.
---
End of Flashback
Now, standing before Rowlan once more, Loryn remembered those words. The stillness, the quiet strength — he could feel it now, pulsing beneath the butler's calm demeanor.
Rowlan noticed the thoughtful look in his eyes and smiled faintly. "Something on your mind, young master?"
Loryn shook his head. "Just… remembering what Alther told me when I was little."
Rowlan chuckled softly. "Ah, that man still speaks too much."
For a brief moment, warmth flickered between them — the familiarity of two souls tied by loyalty and years of quiet observation.
Rowlan then turned his gaze to the knights. "You will remember whom you serve," he said, his tone sharpening like a blade wrapped in velvet. "Your duty is to protect, not to judge. Do not repeat this mistake."
The two captains dropped to one knee immediately. "Forgive us, Lord Rowlan!"
Rowlan nodded once, dismissing them with a glance. Then he looked back at Loryn. "Come. The Omni King awaits you in council. I shall escort you."
Loryn hesitated only a moment. Pride whispered that he should walk alone, that he needed no escort. But reason overruled pride.
"…Very well," he said.
Rowlan inclined his head slightly and turned, pushing open the towering council doors with a single effortless motion. The heavy gold-etched metal swung aside as if weightless, revealing the blinding glow of the inner chamber.
Loryn glanced once more at the garden outside — the same garden where he had once played as a child — before stepping inside, following the man who cast no shadow.
As the doors closed behind them, the echo of their footsteps faded into the vast, divine stillness of the chamber. And with it, the boy who had once run through flowers took his first step toward the storm awaiting him in the halls of power.