"Rowan, we are reaching the royal capital," the Duke said, his eyes never leaving the book in his hands.
A moment later, a page turned.
Rowan stirred, the last haze of sleep lifting as the carriage rocked gently beneath him. He had not even realized when he had dozed off. Sitting up, he glanced across the carriage.
His father was still reading.
The same book.
Rowan blinked once.
Wait. The journey was six hours long…
Even if the book was thick, no normal person would still be reading it. And Arthur Wavecrest was anything but normal. A seventh order awakener did not just read faster. His mind processed, absorbed, and memorized at speeds that made scholars look slow. The Duke should have finished that book within an hour, two at most.
Yet here he was, turning another page like nothing was strange.
He's doing this on purpose, Rowan decided. This is just him being… him.
The Duke of Wavecrest, Grand Admiral of the Royal Navy, ruler of one of the most powerful duchies in the empire, was somehow still socially awkward enough to pretend to read for hours just to avoid talking.
Rowan almost laughed.
He considered calling it out. Just a simple "Father, are you actually still reading that?" But the image of Arthur freezing, clearing his throat, and launching into some forced life lesson about patience or discipline stopped him.
Yeah, no. I'm not opening that door.
His stomach growled quietly, reminding him of another problem.
I'm starving.
He had only eaten breakfast, and that felt like ages ago. Rowan glanced at his father again, then toward the front of the carriage where Alfred sat. Neither of them showed the slightest concern for food.
Then again, his father was a seventh order awakener. He barely needed to eat at all. Alfred, the butler, was a fifth order awakener. He could go months without food if he wanted to.
Did they forget? Or did they just assume I don't need to eat either?
Rowan sighed internally.
Great. Traveling with monsters.
At this point, he did not even care. Food could wait. Curiosity could not.
He leaned forward and brushed aside the curtain.
So we're here already…
The sight outside tore away the last traces of drowsiness.
Stone stretched across the horizon, pale and endless, rising layer upon layer until the land itself seemed to vanish beneath it. Walls, towers, rooftops, all bathed in sunlight, reflecting it back as if the city had been built to challenge the sun rather than hide from it.
The royal capital stood before him.
Luminara.
Luminara rose from the plains like a sea of stone and gold.
Long before the carriage reached the outer gates, Rowan could see it. Not as a single skyline, but as layers upon layers of buildings climbing toward the horizon. White and pale-gold stone caught the sunlight and reflected it back, so bright that the city seemed to glow even from miles away.
This was not an illusion or magic meant to impress visitors. It was simply scale. Too much stone, too many rooftops, too many towers for the light to disappear.
Unlike Marisola, which sprawled along water and canals, Luminara dominated land. The city sat at the heart of the empire, a home for a million, built where ancient trade roads crossed. Every major route led here eventually, and over centuries the city had swollen outward, swallowing villages, fields, and old fortresses until it became something closer to a nation than a city.
Massive walls encircled Luminara, not one but three. The outer wall stretched endlessly, tall enough to shadow entire roads, reinforced by watchtowers spaced with military precision. Caravans waited in long lines to enter, their banners fluttering in the wind, each bearing symbols from different kingdoms, free cities, and clans across the continent.
The carriage slowed for a moment.
Then it did not stop.
Alfred lifted the reins just enough for the Wavecrest crest to catch the light.
The reaction was instant.
Guards straightened. One of them froze mid sentence, eyes widening before he snapped a sharp salute. Shouts rippled through the gate crew and the line split apart as if pushed by an unseen hand.
"Clear the way."
The gates opened.
People stared as the carriage passed. Some bowed too late. Some just watched in silence. Rowan saw awe, curiosity, and something tighter in a few eyes.
So this is how it feels from their side.
Inside the third wall, the outer district swallowed them.
The streets were packed. Vendors shouted over one another. Smoke rose from cookfires. Metal rang from forges. Buildings leaned inward, tall and cramped, built by hands that lived day to day with no promise of tomorrow.
Children pointed at the carriage. Parents pulled them back. A few people bowed, not to Rowan, but to the symbol carved into the wood.
Rowan felt his chest tighten.
Weight.
In the novel this place had been a background. A paragraph about poverty, a sentence about crowds, then on to the important characters.
Now it breathed. It sweated. It stared back at him.
These people are real.
The second wall rose ahead, cleaner and broader.
Here the line was shorter but sharper. Merchants with permits. Knights in polished armor. Officials adjusting their robes and masks of importance. This was the district of lesser nobles, rich commoners, trade houses, and those close enough to power to taste it.
Arthur did not even look up from his book.
Alfred spoke quietly to the gate captain.
"Wavecrest."
The man stiffened. "Open it."
No arguments. No delay.
Inside, the city changed again.
The inner district.
The roads widened. Stone gave way to marble in places. Shops bore carved crests instead of painted signs. Trade houses stood tall with guarded doors. Rowan spotted Wavecrest markings everywhere, subtle but present, etched into walls, stamped into stone, woven into banners.
Other crests too. Lions. Swords. Crowns.
Power competing with power.
I knew we were strong, Rowan thought. I didn't know we were everywhere.
The first wall loomed ahead.
There was no line at all.
The guards here wore heavier armor and moved with calm certainty. They looked at the carriage once and saluted in unison. The gates opened without a word.
Inside was the heart of the empire, the core district of the city .
The noise fell away.
Wide roads stretched between estates and headquarters built to last longer than the men who worked inside them. Ministries rose like stone statements of authority. Army offices. Naval headquarters, their banners snapping cleanly in the wind.
Rowan leaned forward when he saw the Knight Order's headquarters.
It was not a hall. It was a fortress.
High walls. Training yards filled with knights sparring under watchful eyes. Every movement was sharp and controlled. This was not ceremony. This was purpose made into stone.
Further in stood the mage tower.
Rowan stared.
One tower. Tall enough to make his neck ache. Pale stone carved with runes that faintly glowed even in daylight. Mana pressed against his senses, heavy but disciplined, like a hand resting on a drawn blade.
He couldn't help it.
Compared to this, Marisola's mage tower was cute. Like a candle next to a lighthouse.
The Grand Cathedral followed.
White stone. High arches. Stained glass that poured light onto the square below. People slowed as they passed it. Even nobles lowered their voices. Faith had weight here, the kind that pressed down on your shoulders whether you believed or not.
And then the palace.
It sat on the highest hill, watching everything. Towers layered over walls, banners flying, stone carved with history and victories.
Rowan's breath caught.
He had helped write this world.
He had imagined it on quiet nights, turning ideas into words, never thinking about how it would feel to stand inside it.
This was no longer a story.
This was a world.
The carriage turned and rolled to a stop before a grand estate marked with the Wavecrest crest.
Rowan leaned back against the seat.
Looking back through the gates, at the endless stone and endless people, something settled in his chest.
If this world falls, they fall with it.
He closed his eyes feeling the massive weight of the world in his shoulders.
For the first time since waking up in this world, that thought felt heavy in the right way.
The carriage slowed to a stop, and Alfred stepped forward, opening the door with practiced precision and gesturing for them to step out. Rowan followed his father, Duke Arthur, onto the marble courtyard.
Before them stood a mansion. It was smaller than the Wavecrest residence in Marisole, but still impressive enough to make Rowan pause. White marble gleamed in the sunlight, accented with gold trims that caught the light at every angle. As expected of the most powerful house in the empire, he thought.
The gate was enormous, flanked by two armored knights standing perfectly still. Their armor gleamed, and every detail screamed discipline and training. Rowan felt an involuntary shiver as he approached.
Time to see what the system can do, he thought, tapping into it.
[
Name: Reynolds LaneAge: 32Mana Core: Gaseous GrayAwakener Rank: FourthElements: Fire (Base), Lightning (Deviant)Traits:
Iron Trait – Professional Staring: The user can stare at someone long enough to make them extremely uncomfortable. No combat benefit, but highly effective in social situations.
]
[
Name: Alan SkywalkerAge: 29Mana Core: Gaseous GrayAwakener Rank: FourthElements: Water (Base), Ice (Advanced)Traits:
Iron Trait – Burning Resolve: When the user feels anger, frustration, or a strong desire to protect someone, their focus sharpens and their sense of pain dulls dramatically. No direct combat boost, but greatly enhances determination and endurance in tense situations
]
Rowan raised an eyebrow. Fourth order, guarding this place and one having an advanced element. Not bad. He glanced at Reynolds Lane, and immediately felt the intensity of the knight's gaze.
"These two are part of Eric's knight order," he thought, noticing the black blade insignia etched into their armor. Order of the Obsidian Blade. That makes sense.
He stared at the system screen while waiting for the formalities to finish. It was the first time he had seen the traits and elements of other people up close. Traits were rare, even iron-ranked ones. One in a hundred awakeners might have one.
Even iron traits are technically useless in battle, he mused, but they aren't worthless. Anyone with a trait ,no matter how minor ,will have faster mana core progression. That's why Aurelion Academy requires at least a bronze-ranked trait for admission. They want students with potential, not just raw numbers.
Elements however are a different story. Elements can only be awakened once a Mana Core has matured and they don't affect your core progression. This maturation occurs when the core reaches Liquid Black . Once the core advances further to Gaseous Gray, the user gains the ability to awaken a Deviant Element.
He felt a spark of excitement beneath the nerves. This world, the one he had only read about in the novel, was real. And now, with the system in his hands, he could explore it properly, learn its rules, see its limits, and maybe even bend them.
But first, let's meet my brother, thought Rowan watching the two guards open the gate of their mansion.
As the gates swung open, Rowan's eyes widened. He had been here eight months ago for his brother Eric's promotion as a royal knight, but even with that memory, the sight before him was staggering. Shocked was an understatement.
The mansion grounds, which he remembered as elegant gardens filled with rare flowers, towering trees, and perfectly arched pathways, had been completely transformed. Now, the lawns were cleared into massive training fields, lined with tracks, practice dummies, and an assortment of combat equipment.
Knights ran in heavy armor, their movements precise and disciplined. Some were sparring, swords clashing with ringing metal, while others took a breather, gulping water handed to them by a squad of scurrying maids.
The mansion itself rose in the background, still majestic, but the juxtaposition with the chaotic training grounds gave the place an unusual air. It was less a noble residence and more a militarized campus. Rowan blinked, trying to take it all in.
Even Alfred, who rarely showed emotion, had raised an eyebrow. He looked like a statue that had just been surprised by a pigeon landing on its head. Duke Arthur, meanwhile, twitched subtly, his lips tightening as he surveyed the scene, betraying a rare trace of impatience.
Rowan smirked faintly to himself. Looks like someone is going to be thrashed, he thought. Then he caught himself. This was his father's favorite mansion now turned into a full-scale warzone.
The Duke had personally chosen this mansion in the prime royal district and spent months designing its gardens. Eight months ago, it had been gifted to Eric after his promotion as a royal knight. Impressive then, but now… the place had become chaos incarnate.
Clanging swords rang out. Shouts echoed across the training fields. The occasional crash of a dummy toppling made the noise almost comical. And yet, Duke Arthur's face was anything but funny. His jaw was tight, lips pressed into a thin line, brows furrowed so sharply it looked like he was ready to chew someone out alive.
Rowan's eyes widened. Pray for Eric, he thought. And maybe for the other knights too.
Alfred, as always, looked horrified but silent, his posture perfect, as if trying to stop his eyes from betraying the dread he clearly felt. Rowan suppressed a grin. This was truly an absurd scene.
A voice then cut through the chaos.
"Father! Rowan! I'm here "
Eric strode forward with a faint grin on his face.
Rowan caught his father's sharp intake of breath, saw the almost imperceptible flare of nostrils, and couldn't help but smirk slightly. The Duke looked like he wanted to roar and lecture at the same time, and Eric had no clue.
As Eric reached them, Rowan let his gaze linger. His brother carried the unmistakable Wavecrest crimson hair, cropped short, catching the light as it swirled slightly in the morning breeze. Ocean-blue eyes met his for a brief moment, sharp and lively, and Rowan could see the resemblance clearly, the same jawline, the same arch of the brows, though Eric's expression held a quiet confidence that Rowan had yet to attain. He looked every bit the Wavecrest scion, devastatingly handsome without trying.
Standing next to their father, Eric seemed almost equal in presence, only a few inches shorter, but every movement radiated assurance. Rowan couldn't help but notice how natural his posture was, the easy way he carried himself. Well, at least I'll be six foot in this life, Rowan thought wryly, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
Eric's eyes flicked to Rowan, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. "Congratulations, Rowan," he said, voice easy but carrying the weight of pride and mischief all at once. "Trait Identification, huh? Tomorrow should be fun. I'm curious to see what traits you'll get. Don't disappoint me."
He gave a subtle nod, his gaze playful but steady, as if already sizing up the younger brother he hadn't seen in months. There was no hesitation, no awkwardness, just that calm, confident presence Rowan had always envied.
But alas, Eric didn't notice the almost predatory gaze his father was casting. Duke Arthur's golden eyes were sharp, fixed on him like a hawk sizing up a trespasser, each flick of the gaze a silent accusation for daring to turn his precious mansion into what now resembled a warzone.
Eric, blissfully unaware, continued with that easy confidence, smiling, joking lightly with Rowan about the awakening ceremony. He had no idea that behind that calm, measured expression, his father's patience was thinning with every clang of metal and shout from the training grounds.