The Grand Hall of the Royal Palace of Etistin was not designed for comfort; it was designed to make you feel small.
The ceilings soared fifty feet overhead, supported by pillars of marble so white they hurt the eyes, wrapped in vines of gold leaf that likely cost more than the annual GDP of a small farming village. The floor was a mosaic of polished obsidian and quartz, depicting the history of the Human Kingdom of Sapin—mostly images of humans triumphing over mana beasts, or humans triumphing over elves, or humans triumphing over… well, other humans.
History, as they say, is written by the architects.
I adjusted the collar of my formal dress robes. They were midnight blue, tailored to perfection, with the crest of House Sterling—a silver shield over a rising sun—stitched in silk over my heart. They were also stiflingly hot.
"Stand up straight, Adam," my mother, Lady Elara, whispered, though her voice was tight with nerves. She smoothed a non-existent wrinkle on my shoulder. "And stop scowling. You look like you're plotting a murder."
"I'm not plotting a murder, Mother," I replied, forcing my face into a mask of polite disinterest. "I'm plotting an escape route."
"Adam," my father, Count Marcus Sterling, warned from my other side.
We were standing in the receiving line, waiting to be announced. The air smelled of expensive perfume, roasted meats, and the unique, ozone-tinged scent of hundreds of awakened mana cores in one room.
To understand the tension, you had to understand the hierarchy of Sapin. It was a food chain, brutal and simple.
At the apex sat the Royal Family, the Glayders.
Below them were the Grand Dukes, the ancient pillars of the kingdom.
Then the Dukes, the High Lords like the Greysrunders and Flamesworths—families with lineage and power that rivaled the crown.
Fourth were the Marquesses, the regional governors.
Fifth were the Counts. That was us. House Sterling. Wealthy, influential in trade, and respectable, but ultimately mid-tier in the grand scheme of blood purity.
Below us were the Viscounts, Barons, and finally, the Landed Knights.
We were high enough to be invited, but low enough to be expendable.
"Announcing Count Marcus Sterling, Countess Elara Sterling, and their son, Adam Sterling!" the herald bellowed, his voice amplified by wind magic.
We stepped forward.
The chatter in the hall didn't stop, but it shifted. Heads turned. Eyes narrowed. I felt the weight of a hundred gazes land on me.
It wasn't because of my rank. It was because of my face.
At seven years old, the Djinn-Dragon genetics were making themselves known. My hair was a chaotic, defying-gravity mane of dirty blond, streaked with vivid moss-green and tipped in blood-red. My eyes were a deep, luminescent violet that seemed to catch the light of the chandeliers. I was taller than any other child my age, broad-shouldered, with a face that was already losing its baby fat, revealing sharp, angular lines.
I heard the whispers immediately.
"Is that the Sterling boy?"
"Look at his eyes. Is that a mutation?"
"I heard he's a genius. Awakened at four."
"He's… quite striking, isn't he?"
I ignored the whispers of the men, analyzing my potential threat level. I also ignored the whispers of the women and the young noble daughters, who were blushing behind their fans. Being a "lady magnet" at seven was less of a flex and more of a logistical nightmare. I didn't have time for political betrothals; I had a Shadow Inventory to fill.
Speaking of which, the Twenty Tons of rock were still in my shadow.
Every step I took on the obsidian floor required a conscious, agonizing effort to not crack the tiles. My muscles were screaming, my bones were under constant compression, but my face remained a mask of bored nobility.
"Status," I subvocalized.
[Physical Load: 20,000 kg]
[Yoriichi Tsugikuni Template: 38%]
[Fushiguro Megumi Template: 30%]
"Keep moving," Father murmured, guiding us toward the refreshments.
We navigated the shark tank. I was introduced to a dozen minor nobles, bowing and scraping, playing the part of the dutiful son. But I needed to establish my own territory. I needed a clique.
I spotted a group of children my age gathered near a massive ice sculpture of a phoenix. They were posturing, flashing small displays of mana—floating cups, lighting small flames.
"Father, may I?" I asked.
"Go," he nodded, relieved to be rid of the childcare duties. "Behave. Make friends."
I walked over. The group consisted of four boys and two girls. They looked up as I approached, their eyes widening at my appearance.
"You're the Sterling kid," one boy said. He was stocky, with brown hair and an arrogant tilt to his chin. "Sebastian, right? No... Adam."
"Adam," I confirmed, stopping just outside their circle. "And you are?"
"Valen," the boy said, puffed up. "House Earthborn. We're Viscounts."
"Pleasure," I lied.
"We were just discussing affinities," Valen said, crossing his arms. "I'm a solid Orange stage. Earth specialist. My father says I'll be a Conjurer."
He stomped his foot, and a small, pathetic stone spike rose about two inches from the floor. The other kids clapped politely.
"What about you, pretty boy?" Valen sneered, clearly threatened by the way the two girls—twins with curly red hair—were staring at me. "What can you do? I heard you have a Red core."
This was the moment. The lie.
I needed to be strong enough to be respected, but not so strong that the Royal Family viewed me as a threat to be eliminated. I needed a cover story for my physical stats and my weird abilities.
"I'm a Dual Elemental," I said casually, grabbing a glass of juice from a passing waiter.
The circle went quiet. Even Valen blinked.
"Dual?" a girl asked breathlessly. "Which ones?"
"Wind and Earth," I stated. "With access to both deviants. Sound and Gravity."
Gasps.
In the world of The Beginning After the End, dual affinities were rare. Deviants were rarer. Claiming to have two deviants was bordering on arrogance, but it was the perfect cover. 'Gravity' explained my heavy hits and why the floor sometimes cracked under me. 'Sound' explained my breathing techniques and the resonant destruction I caused.
"Prove it," Valen challenged, though his voice wavered.
I smiled. It was a sharp, predatory smile that I borrowed from the Yoriichi template.
I extended a finger. I didn't use a spell. I just focused on the air pressure around Valen's juice glass.
Sound Magic: Resonant Hum.
I flicked my finger. A low, barely audible thrum vibrated through the air.
Crack.
The glass in Valen's hand shattered cleanly, spilling grape juice all over his pristine white vest.
"My hand slipped," I deadpanned.
Valen stared at the purple stain spreading across his chest. The other kids burst out laughing.
"That was Sound magic!" one of the girls squealed, stepping closer to me. "I'm Eleanor. House Rose. That was amazing! You didn't even chant!"
"Chanting is for people who doubt their intent," I said smoothly, recycling a line I'd read in a cultivation novel once.
In seconds, the dynamic shifted. Valen was the outcast; I was the center. I spent the next twenty minutes holding court. I charmed Eleanor by explaining the acoustics of the hall. I impressed a boy named Kael by discussing the structural integrity of earth-attribute fortifications. I was witty, I was knowledgeable, and I was terrifyingly charismatic.
I was building a shield of social influence. If I was the popular kid, the leader of the next generation, it was harder for the Royals to disappear me in the night.
Suddenly, a trumpet blast cut through the noise.
"His Royal Highness, King Blaine Glayder! Her Royal Highness, Queen Priscilla Glayder! And the Royal Children, Prince Curtis and Princess Kathyln!"
The crowd parted like the Red Sea.
King Blaine strode in. He was a man of imposing stature, with a fiery red beard and broad shoulders. He radiated authority—and a staggering amount of mana. But it wasn't just him. Flanking the Royal Family were three figures clad in white armor, their presence so heavy it made the air taste like metal.
The Lances.
I scanned them. My heart skipped a beat when I saw the one on the right.
Tall. Wiry. Blonde hair slicked back. Eyes that crackled with literal electricity.
Bairon Wykes. The Thunderlord.
He looked younger than in the comics, less hardened, but the arrogance was etched into his bone structure. He scanned the room like he was looking for trash to burn.
"Welcome, friends! Subjects! Pillars of Sapin!" King Blaine's voice boomed. "Tonight, we celebrate the future. The next generation of mages who will defend our lands against the savage beasts of the Glades!"
Applause thundered. I clapped mechanically.
"And what is a celebration without a demonstration?" The King grinned, his eyes gleaming with a manipulative light. "We have gathered the finest young talents in the kingdom. It would be a shame to waste such potential on idle chatter."
He gestured to the center of the hall, where mages were already clearing a large circle and erecting a transparent mana barrier.
"A friendly exhibition!" the King declared. "A chance for our youth to show their mettle. Who among you is brave enough to step forward?"
Silence.
It was a trap. If you stepped forward and lost, you shamed your family. If you didn't step forward, you were a coward.
"I think," King Blaine continued, his gaze sweeping over the children, "that a vote is in order. Let the children decide. Shall we have a tournament? Raise your hands if you wish to see your peers fight!"
I looked around. The adults were smiling encouragingly. The pressure was suffocating. If a child voted 'no,' they were publicly stating they hated fun, valor, and the King.
"Manipulative bastard," I thought.
One hand went up. Then two. Then Valen, eager to redeem himself, shot his hand up.
I raised my hand slowly. I had to play the game.
"Unanimous!" The King laughed. "Excellent. Now, volunteers?"
Valen stepped forward immediately. "I, Valen of House Earthborn, volunteer!"
"Spirited!" The King nodded. "And an opponent?"
Valen turned. He pointed a trembling finger straight at me. "I challenge Adam Sterling."
The crowd murmured. The Sterling boy against the Earthborn boy.
I sighed, handing my half-empty glass to Eleanor. "Hold this, would you? Don't drink it."
I walked into the ring. The barrier shimmered into existence around us.
"Start!" the referee shouted.
Valen didn't wait. "Rock Bullet!"
Three stones shot toward me. They were slow. Painfully slow.
I didn't draw the spear strapped to my back. I didn't need it.
I simply walked forward.
When the stones came within striking distance, I didn't dodge. I raised my left hand, coated in a thin layer of wind mana to hide the Cursed Energy reinforcement beneath.
Slap. Slap. Slap.
I backhanded the rocks out of the air.
Valen's jaw dropped. "H-how?"
"Physics," I said. "You have no spin on your projectiles. They're unstable."
I closed the distance. Valen panicked and tried to erect an earth wall.
I stomped my foot.
Gravity Deviant (Fake): Heavy Step.
I released a fraction of the 20-ton weight from my Shadow into the floor—not physically, but conceptually, channeling mana to mimic a gravity spike.
BOOM.
The floor beneath Valen buckled. The shockwave threw him off balance. His wall crumbled before it even formed.
I was in front of him. I grabbed him by the collar of his expensive vest.
"Yield," I whispered.
"I yield!" he squeaked.
"Winner, Adam Sterling!"
Polite applause. I released him and turned to leave.
"Stay right there, young man!" King Blaine called out. "That was… efficient. Too efficient. Are there any others who wish to challenge the victor?"
For the next hour, I was the King's entertainment.
I fought three more matches.
A Fire Conjurer from House Flamesworth. I extinguished his fire by using 'Sound' to create a vacuum bubble around his flame.
A water mage. I used my 'Earth' affinity to create mud, bogging him down until he tripped.
A sword-wielder. I finally drew my spear. I didn't use the Mirror Dance. I just used basic, brutal reach advantage, tripping him and holding the blunt tip to his throat.
I won every match. I barely broke a sweat.
"Marvelous!" King Blaine clapped, descending from his throne. "Truly marvelous. House Sterling has been hiding a dragon in their midst."
He walked up to the barrier, looking down at me with calculating eyes.
"You have defeated your peers, Adam Sterling," the King said. "But a diamond is only polished by friction against a harder stone. You are clearly bored."
My eyes narrowed. "I am simply honored to serve, Your Majesty."
"Modest, too," Blaine chuckled. He turned to the side, toward the shadows of the pillars. "Sir Roderick!"
A figure stepped out.
He wasn't a child. He was a Squire, perhaps sixteen or seventeen years old, clad in the silver armor of the Royal Guard. He was tall, muscular, and held a heavy broadsword. His core was a solid Yellow—leagues above anyone in this room.
"Roderick is one of our most promising Squires," the King announced. "Adam, if you can last three minutes against him, or perhaps even land a hit, I shall grant you a boon from the Royal Treasury."
The crowd gasped. A boon from the King? That could be anything. Land, titles, artifacts.
"Do you accept?" the King asked.
I looked at Roderick.
[Transparent World: Active]
My vision shifted. I saw Roderick's muscle fibers. I saw the mana flowing through his channels.
He was strong for a human. But he was sloppy. His stance was too wide. He favored his right leg. His mana circulation had a bottleneck in his shoulder.
If I dropped the 20 tons… If I used the Mirror Dance… If I summoned the Divine Dogs (which I could feel scratching at the door of my soul)…
I could kill him in ten seconds.
But if I did that, I would be drafted. I would be taken from my parents. I would be weaponized by the Crown or assassinated by the Dwarves or Elves before I hit puberty.
I had to lose. But I had to lose like a genius.
"I accept," I said, bowing.
"Begin!"
Roderick didn't hold back. He launched himself forward, his blade coated in fire mana.
Whoosh.
I dodged. I used the spear to deflect the heavy strikes, spinning the shaft to redirect the force into the ground.
Clang! Clang!
"Stop running, little mouse!" Roderick grunted, slashing horizontally.
I ducked under the blade. I saw the opening. His armpit was exposed. A simple thrust would puncture his lung.
I hesitated.
Don't take it.
I aimed for his chest plate instead. I drove the spear forward, infusing it with 'Wind' mana.
PING.
The spear tip skidded off the enchanted armor.
"Gotcha," Roderick grinned.
He backhanded me with his gauntlet.
I saw it coming. I could have dodged. I could have blocked.
Instead, I leaned into it slightly, rolling my neck to minimize the damage while making the impact look brutal.
CRACK.
I went flying. I tumbled across the obsidian floor, skidding to a halt near the barrier. I tasted blood.
"Adam!" My mother screamed from the crowd.
I lay there for a second, staring at the ceiling.
"I yield," I groaned, clutching my ribs.
"Winner: Sir Roderick!"
The King clapped politely. "A valiant effort! You lasted two minutes, my boy. Impressive for a seven-year-old."
As the medics rushed over to help me up, a blue screen flickered in my peripheral vision.
[System Alert]
[Status: DEFEAT]
[Condition: Intentional Throw Detected.]
[Fushiguro Megumi Template: 30% -> 40%]
I almost choked on my own blood.
Are you kidding me?
I gained 10% mastery because I lost?
"Damn you, Megumi," I thought, wiping blood from my lip. "Is your concept literally 'Potential Man'? Do I get stronger every time I get beat up? If I summon Mahoraga now, do I instantly unlock your full template?"
I stood up, shaking off the medics. "I'm fine. Just a bruise."
I walked back to the King. I bowed low.
"I failed the challenge, Your Majesty."
"Nonsense!" King Blaine beamed. "You showed courage! And skill! Roderick is a Yellow Core. You held your own. I promised a boon for victory, but I believe such talent deserves a reward regardless."
He snapped his fingers. A servant rushed forward carrying a small velvet box.
"A Dimension Ring," the King announced. "Capable of holding up to fifty cubic feet of storage. A fitting gift for a future Lance, perhaps?"
He handed me the box.
I took it, my hands trembling slightly—not from pain, but from relief.
A Dimension Ring.
This was perfect. Now, if anyone asked where I pulled a seven-foot spear or a week's worth of rations from, I could point to the ring. I didn't have to explain the Shadow.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," I said. "I am unworthy."
"Grow strong, Adam," the King said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "The Kingdom needs monsters."
I chilled. He knew. Or at least, he suspected.
The party resumed. I was given a hero's welcome by the other children. Eleanor Rose was practically clinging to my arm, asking if my ribs were okay. Valen looked at me with newfound respect.
I excused myself, heading toward the balcony for fresh air. I needed to check the System. I needed to see what unlocking 40% gave me.
Can I summon the dog now?
I reached for the door handle to the balcony.
"You filthy animal! Watch where you're walking!"
The shout came from the corridor to my left.
I paused. That voice was high, nasally, and dripping with entitlement.
I peered around the corner.
Two boys were standing there. One was a timid-looking servant boy, cowering on the floor, picking up dropped tartlets.
The other boy was about my age. He was dressed in gold and crimson robes that cost more than my house. He had pale skin, sharp, aristocratic features, and bright, cruel green eyes.
But it was the hair and the ears that stopped me cold.
Blond hair. Long, pointed ears.
A half-elf.
He kicked the servant boy in the ribs, blood evedent on his uniform the volume increasing. "I said, apologize! Do you know who I am? I am a Wykes! My brother is a Lance!"
Lucas Wykes.
The antagonist. The traitor. The little sociopath who would grow up to cause so much misery.
He was here.
I felt a surge of cold rage in my gut. Not my rage. Yoriichi's rage. The memory of demons and the disdain for those who trampled on the weak.
And beneath that, the shadows in my soul began to boil.
[Fushiguro Megumi Template: 40%]
[Ability Unlocked: Divine Dog (Totality - Locked). Standard Divine Dogs (White/Black) - AVAILABLE.]
I looked at Lucas, who was raising his foot for another kick.
I looked at the shadow stretching out from my feet.
"Hey," I said, my voice dropping an octave, resonating with a low, menacing growl that wasn't entirely human.
Lucas froze. He turned to look at me.
"Who are you?" he sneered. "Another servant?"
I stepped out of the shadows. My violet eyes glowed in the dim hallway. My shadow seemed to detach itself from the floor, swirling around my ankles like restless smoke.
"No," I said, cracking my neck. "But i recommend you let this man go."
I clenched my fist,before i could do anything i felt a emense suffocating intent as my body and lucas was forced down as a voice appeared behind me
"Did I not tell you to behave yourself for once lucas"
[End of Chapter]