Sunlight filtered gently through the leaves of the garden, scattering golden fragments across marble pathways and blooming flowers. The Blackthorne inner garden was a place untouched by war—a sanctuary hidden within a house forged by blood and steel.
At its center sat Aria von Blackthorne.
She rested gracefully on a white stone bench, a porcelain teacup held lightly between her fingers. Steam curled upward, carrying the faint aroma of enchanted herbs. Her bright silver hair shimmered under the sun, cascading freely down her back, and her blue eyes reflected the calm surface of the pond before her.
In that moment—
She looked less like a duchess.
And more like a goddess who had descended to the mortal world.
Aria's gaze drifted unconsciously toward the training grounds beyond the garden walls.
My son…
A faint smile curved her lips.
Seven years.
Only seven years had passed since Aurelian had been born under ominous skies, feared as a cursed child by those too weak to understand him. And now—
He was already far beyond what logic allowed.
Aria closed her eyes briefly as memories surfaced.
She remembered the first time she sensed mana stirring within him. It had not been chaotic, nor unstable. It had been quiet. Controlled. As though mana itself had been waiting for his command.
At the age of seven—
No.
Before even turning seven—
Aurelian had awakened his mana.
And not clumsily.
Naturally.
Like breathing.
Now, at seven years old, her son was already a 2st Circle Mage.
At this age… even I was still struggling with basic incantations, Aria thought.
Her grip tightened slightly around the teacup.
He's surpassing me… already.
A soft sound of footsteps approached.
"Aurelian," Aria said gently without turning. "You can come closer."
Her son stepped into view, dressed in simple black training attire. His silver hair was neatly tied, his red eyes calm and clear. There was no childish excitement in his gaze—only quiet confidence.
"Yes, Mother."
She smiled warmly and gestured for him to sit beside her.
"Did your magic practice go well today?" she asked.
Aurelian nodded. "I stabilized the second circle completely. Mana flow is smooth."
Aria inhaled slowly.
Seven years old.
And he spoke like an archmage.
"That's wonderful," she said softly, placing her hand over his. "You did very well."
He accepted the praise without pride.
After a brief silence, Aria spoke again, her tone thoughtful.
"Aurelian… do you enjoy magic?"
"Yes," he replied immediately. "It is efficient."
She laughed quietly. "Only you would describe magic that way."
Her gaze softened as she studied him.
Too calm… too composed.
She loved that about him.
And yet—
She worried.
Aria knew her husband.
She knew Alaric von Blackthorne better than anyone else in this world.
And she knew that his expectations were as heavy as his sword.
If things continue like this…
Her thoughts trailed off.
Moments later, a servant appeared at the edge of the garden and bowed.
" Duchess and Young Master," the servant said respectfully. "His Grace requests Young Master Aurelian's presence."
Aria exchanged a glance with her son.
"It seems your father wishes to speak with you," she said gently.
Aurelian stood. "Understood."
---
The meeting chamber was quieter than usual.
Alaric von Blackthorne stood near the window, arms crossed behind his back. His tall figure was rigid, unmoving, like a blade forged into human form.
Aria took her seat calmly.
Aurelian stood between them.
Alaric turned.
"Aurelian," he said. "You have awakened mana."
"Yes, Father."
"And you are a second circle mage."
"Yes."
No embellishment.
No hesitation.
Alaric's black eyes narrowed slightly.
"You are progressing faster than expected."
Aria folded her hands gently. "Far faster."
Silence followed.
Then Alaric spoke.
"You must choose."
The words landed heavily.
"Magic," Alaric continued, "or the sword."
Aria's eyes widened slightly. "Alaric—"
"This is necessary," Alaric interrupted calmly. "Both paths demand absolute dedication. Divided focus leads to mediocrity."
Aurelian listened without reacting.
Alaric's gaze locked onto him.
"You carry my blood. You were born to wield a blade. I will not have you distracted."
Aria clenched her hands.
"And yet," she said firmly, "his talent in magic surpasses even mine. You would waste that?"
Alaric turned to her.
"I would forge him into something untouchable."
Aurelian finally spoke.
"I do not see a conflict."
Both parents turned to him.
He smiled.
Not arrogantly.
But with quiet certainty.
"I am good at both," Aurelian said. "So why must I abandon one?"
The room fell silent.
"I will wield a sword," he continued calmly. "And I will master magic."
Aria's breath caught.
"A magic swordsman?" she whispered.
"Yes," Aurelian replied. "Magic enhances efficiency. Swordsmanship provides finality. Together, they eliminate weaknesses."
Alaric studied him for a long moment.
The silence stretched.
Then—
Alaric nodded.
"…Very well."
Aria turned sharply. "You agree?"
"He is correct," Alaric said. "If he can walk both paths… then he should."
He looked at his son.
"But understand this," Alaric said coldly. "The expectations will double."
Aurelian bowed slightly.
"That is acceptable."
For a brief moment—
Pride flickered in Alaric's eyes.
"You may go," the Duke said.
Aurelian bowed to both of them and left the chamber.
---
Once the doors closed, Aria exhaled slowly.
"You're too hard on him," she said quietly.
Alaric did not respond immediately.
She stood and approached him.
"You're always cold to him," she continued softly. "But I know… you love him more than anything."
Alaric's jaw tightened.
"I am not cold," he said. "I am careful."
He turned toward her.
"This world is changing."
Aria's expression grew serious.
"Demon activity has increased," Alaric said. "And there are organizations within Arcanor that worship them."
She nodded. "I know. The Magic Tower has reported the same."
Alaric's voice lowered.
"If Aurelian is weak… even for a moment… they will come for him."
Aria closed her eyes.
"I only want him to be happy."
"And I want him to survive," Alaric replied.
For the first time—
He smiled.
Softly.
"He is my son," Alaric said. "I will make him powerful enough that no one in Noctyrr can touch him."
Aria reached for his hand and squeezed it gently.
"…Then let us protect him together."
Beyond the chamber walls, Aurelian walked calmly down the corridor.
A faint smile lingered on his lips.
Magic and sword.
Both will kneel to me.
And somewhere far away—
In the depths of Abyssar—
Something ancient stirred.