Once I drank the liquid, a sharp pain swept through me…
A scream burst from my chest without my control—
A loud, piercing scream, unlike that of any human.
The pain crept through my veins as if the blood itself tried to flee my body.
I felt something tearing me from the inside… as if my heart would explode, and my bones were cracking and crumbling.
Consciousness began slipping away from me quickly.
But in the moment I imagined my body could endure no more… I clung to the last trace of hope:
— I… will not… die… here… my brother… is still… waiting for me…
I gripped my chest tightly, as if trying to prevent my soul from escaping.
I endured the pain with all I had, resisting the darkness that tried to swallow me… resisting until my last breath—
Then… the pain stopped.
Suddenly, just as it began.
I fell to the ground, gasping, my body drenched in sweat as if I had emerged from a battle that lasted days.
Drops of sweat fell from my brow without pause.
It took a few minutes before my vision began to gradually return.
When it did… I stared around in astonishment.
There… I felt something cold touch my skin.
Delicate, almost invisible threads extended throughout the room.
I remained seated in my place for long seconds, unable to comprehend.
I couldn't see them clearly, but they didn't need to be seen.
I felt them as if they were part of my body.
I even knew the position of every thread with a strange precision… as if they were born inside me.
I sat in my place, closing my eyes once more, focusing on the strange sensation radiating from my chest.
I tried to move my inner "self" to guide the threads.
At first, they wriggled uncontrollably, as if moving on their own.
But with each attempt, I learned more about their nature, feeling every pulse in my body flow through the threads.
I began to form small shapes in the air, interlacing lines, circles, then ends moving like invisible fingers.
I gradually gained control, directing them precisely, making them intersect and separate according to my will.
Moments of complete silence ensued, as if the world around me vanished, leaving only the threads, myself, and my absolute focus.
Every movement was exhausting…
My muscles ached, my hands sometimes trembled, but I was determined to achieve full control.
I began to pull the threads, stretch them, wrap them around imaginary objects, then snap them back quickly.
In moments, I felt as if they had become extensions of my body, as if they breathed with me and responded to every beat of my heart.
After hours of training, I was so exhausted that every step felt difficult.
I stopped with effort and headed toward the door.
As soon as I opened it, my eyes fell upon two guards standing there.
Between them, I saw that maid once again.
I looked at her weakly and said:
— Take me… to my room.
My steps were heavy, every part of my body aching.
When I reached my room, I could no longer stand.
I moved to the bed and leaned my body against it,
With every breath… consciousness drifted further away.
Finally… I fell asleep.
---
I opened my eyes slowly, sunlight filtering through the window.
I still recalled the feeling of yesterday… I couldn't yet believe I had truly arrived here.
I thought all of this was just a nightmare I would wake from when I closed my eyes.
The door opened, and the servants entered the room, saying:
— Young master, you must prepare yourself for breakfast.
Damn, won't they give enough time to rest…
I sat slowly, my body feeling strangely heavy.
Then I went to the bathroom.
---
As I entered, a gentle steam brushed my face.
I approached the mirror.
I studied my face… sharp features, pale, exhausted skin, dark black hair sticking slightly to my forehead, and the eyes…
Deep eyes, as if shadows moved slowly within them.
My appearance seemed calm… but it did not reflect what was inside me.
I looked like someone who had passed through death and left a part of himself behind.
I removed my clothes and stepped under the warm water.
The water flowed over my back and shoulders, washing away the traces of pain.
I closed my eyes, letting the warmth soothe something inside me that had no name.
After a few minutes, I emerged and dressed in luxurious clothes, their fabric silky, embroidery delicate, with a light fragrance wafting from them.
I felt the outfit gave me some confidence, but it did not erase the fatigue or confusion still lingering within me.
---
When I left my room, I headed toward the hall.
Every step was heavy, but my eyes couldn't ignore the splendor of the palace.
The walls were high, decorated with intricate paintings and engravings, the floor of polished marble, and small statues carefully placed along the corridor.
Every room, every corner spoke of wealth and civilization… I felt like a stranger among this beauty, yet it impressed me undoubtedly…
But as I approached the hall… I stopped.
There, directly ahead, I saw two people seated.
The first to catch my attention was Lina Taylor, whom I met yesterday.
But my eyes were immediately drawn to the man sitting at the other end of the table…
Arkith Taylor.
He didn't need to do anything to assert his presence.
Just sitting there was enough to fill the room with a subtle pressure, like winter air.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, with a body seemingly built for battles.
His thick black hair reached slightly above his neck, streaked with gray at the ends—
not diminishing his majesty but enhancing it, a mark of experience and strength.
His face was sharp, his jaw strong, his cheekbones sculpted with precision.
But what struck me most was his eyes…
Ash-gray eyes, unwavering, rarely blinking, a gaze that pierces anyone sitting before him, making them feel completely exposed.
He wore a long dark coat reaching mid-calf, embroidered with fine golden threads on the sleeves, shoulders, and chest, with black leather gloves and a wide metal belt around his waist, holding a sword on his back.
The embroidery was not mere decoration, but a symbol of his status and authority.
He sat upright, without hesitation, as if the air itself cleared the path for him.
His frown was not anger.
It was his nature… that solid majesty that made him one of the empire's strongest sorcerers, an SS-rank, a man before whom an entire army might crumble without him drawing his sword.
When he saw me, he lifted his eyes toward me—just a glance.
Yet it was enough to make my chest tighten and my knees tremble uncontrollably.
I sat quietly, the atmosphere cold and near-silent.
At that moment, I wondered: Why didn't they ask about my condition? Hadn't I been missing for a month? Or did it simply not concern them?
Well, it didn't matter to me… they weren't my family.
I looked toward the other end of the table, but he was still watching me.
His eyes didn't move from me for even a fraction of a second.
My breath grew heavy, and then I found myself saying in a voice I did not recognize:
— I want… to learn my family's sword technique.