Six years had passed since Jin chose Barisada.
He was seven now.
Still trapped within Storm Castle.Still waiting.
I need to leave this place.
Storm Castle stood like a prison carved into the peak of Mt. Murakan, where the sky itself seemed to rage without end. Lightning clawed across the heavens day and night. Rain fell in endless sheets. Wind screamed through the stone corridors like a living thing.
There was no peace here.
Perhaps that was why the Runcandel children grew into monsters.
This place raised them that way.
"Jin!"
He didn't turn.
He didn't need to.
Daytona and Haytona Runcandel. The Tona twins. Nine years old, yet already rotten beyond redemption.
"Where's your precious Barisada?" Daytona sneered. "Did you lose it? Kuhaha."
Jin slowly turned to face them.
He said nothing.
For the past year, they had harassed him relentlessly.
Salt in his food.A dead bird nailed to his door.A scorpion left beneath his sheets.
Cruelty, delivered in pieces.
He had endured it.
Until today.
Gilly was gone. His nanny had left Storm Castle that morning.
The twins had waited for this moment.
So had Jin.
Haytona stepped closer, grinning viciously.
"We're talking to you. Where is Barisada?"
Jin tilted his head slightly. Then smirked.
"Not sure," he said calmly. "Maybe I shoved it up your asshole."
Silence fell.
The twins froze.
They looked at each other.
Then back at him.
Their faces twisted with rage.
"Did you just—"
"Your nanny isn't here to protect you," Daytona hissed.
Five steps separated them.
Jin crossed the distance in an instant.
Thwack.
Haytona's body folded violently as Jin's fist drove into his stomach. The air exploded from his lungs.
Daytona barely had time to react before another punch crashed into his jaw.
Both of them collapsed.
Jin stood over them.
Calm.
Cold.
He struck again.
And again.
Thud. Thwack. Thud.
His fists rose and fell with mechanical precision.
A distant thought surfaced.
Am I going too far?
It disappeared just as quickly.
These were the same brothers who had once forced him to swallow horse manure while laughing.
He didn't stop.
When it ended, the twins lay broken on the stone floor, their bodies twitching weakly.
Jin looked down at them without emotion.
"Don't draw my attention again," he said flatly. "If you want to live."
Footsteps echoed down the corridor.
A guardian knight arrived at a run—then stopped dead.
His eyes widened.
He looked at the unconscious twins.
Then at Jin.
A seven-year-old child stood over them.
Unharmed.
Victorious.
"Young Master Jin…" the knight said carefully. "What happened?"
Jin didn't hesitate.
"They fought each other."
The knight knew it was a lie.
He also knew better than to challenge it.
Jin turned away.
"Carry them."
The knight blinked. "Where?"
Jin's voice remained calm.
"The grave."
The bird's grave sat in the backyard, a small mound of dirt beneath the merciless sky.
The storm was violent.
Rain lashed sideways, soaking everything in seconds.
"Put them there," Jin ordered.
"Young Master, the storm is too—"
Jin looked at him.
Just one look.
The knight obeyed immediately.
He placed the twins beside the grave and stepped back.
Their bodies lay motionless as the freezing rain poured over them.
Jin watched them for a moment.
Then turned and walked away.
He never looked back.
Gilly found them two hours later.
They survived.
Barely.
Acute pneumonia confined them to their beds for days.
After that, everything changed.
They never mocked him again.
Never provoked him.
Never even met his eyes.
Fear had taken root.
And it would never leave.
Ten days later, far to the east, at the edge of the continent, a blood-soaked knight knelt before the Patriarch of Runcandel.
The Black Sea was a wasteland of monsters and death.
Yet Cyron Runcandel sat calmly amidst it.
Untouched.
Unmoved.
"Patriarch," the knight said. "I report a dispute between the young masters."
Cyron slowly opened his eyes.
"Speak."
The knight, Khan, explained everything.
When he finished, silence lingered.
Cyron smiled faintly.
"Did the twins die?"
"No. Pneumonia. They will recover."
"Good."
Cyron closed his eyes again.
"Then they learned something."
He waved his hand dismissively.
"You're dismissed."
Khan bowed and left without complaint.
He had spent three days fighting monsters for this report.
He felt no resentment.
Serving Cyron Runcandel required absolute loyalty.
Nothing less.
Cyron remained seated in silence for some time.
Then a thought surfaced.
I should see the youngest for myself.
One month later, he arrived at Storm Castle.
When Cyron Runcandel returned to Storm Castle after five years, the entire mountain entered a state of controlled chaos.
Messengers arrived one after another, their cloaks soaked by the unending rain. Flag-bearers from Vermont, Akin, Zhan, and Curano abandoned their assigned territories and made their way to the castle without delay. None of them dared to be late.
The Patriarch's return was not a personal matter. It was an event that concerned the entire empire.
By the time Cyron reached the castle gates, his children had already gathered.
Seven of them stood at the front, each bearing the composure of warriors who had long since completed their Selection. Behind them, more than two hundred elite knights waited in perfect formation despite the storm. Their armor gleamed faintly under the flashes of lightning.
No one spoke.
Then Cyron stepped forward.
As one, every sword rose.
"Greetings to the Patriarch."
Their voices were loud enough to echo across the mountain, but Cyron showed no visible reaction. He walked past them as if such a sight were only natural.
It had always been this way.
Inside the throne room, Daytona and Haytona knelt on the cold floor.
Neither dared to raise their heads.
Cyron sat before them, resting his chin lightly against his hand. His expression was calm, but the twins could not stop trembling.
"Explain," he said.
His voice was quiet, yet it left no room for hesitation.
Daytona swallowed. "We were attacked by Jin."
Cyron did not respond.
Haytona quickly added, "He used something strange. It wasn't aura. It wasn't swordsmanship."
He hesitated before continuing.
"It felt like magic."
The word lingered in the air.
Magic was forbidden within the Runcandel bloodline. The clan existed as the absolute authority of swordsmanship. To rely on magic was to betray its foundation.
Cyron's gaze remained steady.
"Are you certain?"
Daytona hesitated. "…No. But it wasn't normal."
Cyron observed them for a moment before speaking again.
"If you continue behaving like this, you will not survive within this clan."
His tone did not rise. He was not angry.
He was stating a fact.
The twins felt their throats tighten.
"Leave."
They immediately obeyed.
Once they were gone, Cyron spoke to the knight standing nearby.
"Bring Jin."
Jin entered the throne room alone.
He could feel his father's gaze on him from the moment he stepped inside.
It was different from anything else.
Not hostility.
Not killing intent.
Something heavier.
Judgment.
Jin knelt.
"Greetings, Patriarch."
Cyron spoke after a brief silence.
"You addressed me as Patriarch."
"Yes."
"Why?"
Jin answered without hesitation.
"Because your return was formal. Everyone gathered to welcome the Patriarch of the clan, not their father."
Cyron studied him carefully.
It was not the answer of a child.
"…I see."
He did not praise him, but neither did he dismiss the response.
Instead, he asked another question.
"What mistake did your brothers make?"
Jin understood the intent behind the question.
"They sought revenge."
Cyron waited for him to continue.
"A member of the Runcandel clan must never forget debts. Whether gratitude or resentment, both must be repaid properly."
The answer was precise.
Cyron remained silent for several seconds.
Then he spoke.
"You may call me father."
It was a small concession, but its meaning was clear.
Recognition.
Jin lowered his head slightly.
"Yes, Father."
Cyron's gaze sharpened.
"What did you use to defeat them?"
Jin remained still.
Cyron continued.
"They claimed it was neither aura nor swordsmanship."
The storm outside intensified, thunder rumbling through the castle.
Cyron's voice remained calm.
"What was it?"
Jin understood that this was the true question.
Not the fight.
Not the twins.
But him.
He raised his head and met his father's eyes.
The test had only just begun.