Kael'thar straightened and brushed the dust off his uniform.
"I have to return to my duties," he said calmly. "Bring your summon along. I'll add him to the training schedule."
Nerion turned to the summoned man, studying him with curiosity.
"What's your name?" he asked.
The summon bowed respectfully. "My system name is Tren, my lord. But you may call me whatever you wish."
"Alright," Nerion said, nodding. "Follow General Kael'thar. Listen to his instructions for now."
"As you command, my lord," Tren answered without hesitation.
After Kael'thar and Tren left, Nerion turned his attention back to his system.
He opened his Soul Inventory again.
There, sitting quietly among the item slot, was an Item Card he hadn't checked yet.
A simple sword icon blinked on the screen.
Grade: Common (F).
Curious, Nerion tapped the sword's description.
Blade of Commander Thorne
Once a legendary sword, now crooked and chipped.
It is soaked with the blood of countless enemies, each strike driven by the will to protect his people.
Though its glory has faded, the blade still holds the echoes of the battles it fought—and the memories of the lives it saved.
Nerion stared at the old weapon's description, a strange feeling stirring in his chest.
Even broken, even forgotten, the blade carried a story.
And now… it was his.
Nerion then summoned the sword in his hands ...
He stared at the sword a little longer.
"Thorne, huh…" he muttered.
From the description alone, it was clear—the man behind the blade had been someone extraordinary.
A commander. A protector.
Someone who fought not for glory, but for his people.
Nerion ran his thumb lightly along the blunt edge.
The sword was chipped, crooked, nowhere near the sharp, gleaming weapons he had seen knights carry.
And yet… somehow, it felt more real. More alive.
He smiled faintly.
Maybe it was old and battered, but it had survived.
Just like he intended to.
At first, Riven and Aelric looked confused when they saw the sword resting in Nerion's hands.
But after a moment, their faces shifted—confusion melting into faint smiles.
"System reward?" Aelric asked, stepping closer.
Before Nerion could answer, Riven reached out carefully and took the sword from Nerion's grip.
He turned it slowly, inspecting the crooked, chipped blade. Then he let a thin stream of mana flow into it.
The sword trembled faintly, responding to his touch.
Riven nodded, handing it back with a short, approving grunt.
"It's a common-grade weapon," he said. "Old and battered, but for now, it'll kill just fine. A solid training sword."
Nerion accepted it again, feeling the way the sword seemed to hum faintly in his hands.
Aelric laughed.
"Way better than the wooden sticks we trained with," he said. "Soul-bound weapons like this are easier to pour mana into. You'll get the hang of it."
He clapped Nerion lightly on the shoulder.
"And remember—you can store soul items in your inventory anytime. It's safer, and you can pull them out wherever you need."
Nerion looked down at the sword again.
It wasn't perfect.
It was old, scarred by countless battles.
But somehow, it felt right in his hands.
And this…
this was only the beginning.
After that, Riven and Aelric shared a glance.
They both smiled.
"Come on," Riven said, nudging Nerion forward. "Let's get you to a real spot to train."
Leaving the manor's regular training grounds behind, they walked deeper into the estate.
The Ophirein manor wasn't just a manor—it was closer to a castle, towering high and stretching far beyond what an ordinary noble house of their level would ever need.
They moved quickly through long stone corridors until they arrived at double door, carved with intricate runes.
Above the entrance, in golden letters that shimmered faintly in the light, was a single word: EMBER.
Riven pushed open the doors, and the three of them stepped inside.
Nerion's eyes widened immediately.
It was like walking into the heart of a mountain.
A cavernous space stretched out before them, almost like a small world trapped inside stone walls.
In the center stood a small, simple house built of old wood and iron, dwarfed by the sheer vastness around it.
The entire place could easily hold a thousand people, and the air felt thick with energy—almost alive.
Aelric chuckled at his expression.
"This is our house's skill training ground," he said proudly. "When we learned our first skills, older sister brought us here."
Nerion, still staring at the place in awe, spoke up—his voice a little shaky, confused, but filled with excitement.
"How is this even possible…?"
Aelric chuckled and stepped closer. "Nerion, have you ever thought about something?"
Nerion blinked and shook his head. "No… what?"
Aelric didn't wait for him to catch up.
"Have you noticed they gave you knight-type skills, even without knowing your class?"
Nerion frowned slightly, thinking back. "Yeah… I did wonder about that."
Riven folded his arms, smirking a little. "They didn't do it randomly. It's because most of our blood—ninety-nine percent of it—ends up with knight-related classes. It's just how it's always been."
Nerion's eyes widened a little. "Ninety-nine percent…?"
Aelric nodded. "Yeah. We don't exactly know why either. Our elder sister explained it to us when we awakened."
Riven let out a small laugh, glancing at Aelric. "Maybe if we were younger—fourteen, fifteen—we would've questioned it more. But after seeing our system descriptions… after realizing the god-blood in us… we weren't surprised."
Nerion clenched his fists slightly, a determined look growing in his eyes. "I see… so it's already in our blood."
Nerion, still taking it all in, asked, "What about the one percent?"
Riven smiled slightly and answered, "If you were that one percent… your mana circle wouldn't have been situated in your heart."
Aelric nodded, placing a hand over his own chest. "We share the same blood, Nerion. We can feel it. We can resonate with it."
Riven added, "When you gain more experience, you'll start understanding these things more clearly too."
Nerion clenched his fist lightly, feeling the faint thrum of mana in his chest, stronger than ever before.
Aelric clapped Nerion lightly on the back. "Exactly. And soon, you'll understand even more."
The twins led Nerion deeper into the massive training ground, their footsteps echoing softly against the stone floor. The air grew thicker and damper with every step, carrying a faint earthy scent. The place felt like a giant underground cave, its atmosphere moist and humid—almost like the natural habitat of frogs.
They stopped in front of a large, mist-covered pond. The water shimmered with a soft light, and countless green
Lunaris Bloom pads floated on the surface. The pads looked calm at first glance, but Nerion could feel the mana rippling faintly through them.
Aelric pointed toward the pond. "This is where you'll train your movement skill, Ashstep Mirage."
Nerion's eyes widened slightly. "Here?"
Riven grinned. "Yeah. You'll need to channel your mana carefully, use your momentum skill, and jump from pad to pad."
Aelric added, "But be careful. These lotus pads are living organisms. They sink quickly once you land on them. You'll have to move fast."
Nerion nodded slowly, taking it all in.
Aelric stepped forward, showing him the proper form. "Watch carefully."
In a blur, Aelric leapt forward. His foot touched a Lunaris pad for barely a moment before he pushed off again, crossing three pads before finally dropping into the water with a splash.
He swam back easily, laughing. "See? You'll fail a lot at first. It's part of the training."
Riven smirked. "When you fall in, just swim back to the start. The water's filled with mana cores from ember-ranked monsters. It'll help your body recover your mana faster."
Aelric nodded, picking up from there. "At first, you'll burn through a lot of mana and fail more times than you can count. But don't worry—that's normal."
Nerion clenched his fists, determination rising inside him.
Aelric smiled slightly, seeing his reaction. "After enough attempts, something will change. Your body will start creating mirages on its own… just like you saw us do before."
Riven laughed lightly. "When that happens, you'll know you're on the right path."
After finishing at the pond, the twins led Nerion to another place deeper inside the training ground.
There, an entire area opened up with rows of dummies—at least thirty of them standing upright.
The dummies weren't normal. They seemed alive, slightly shifting and moving on their own.
Riven pointed ahead and said, "This is where you'll train your sword skill—Fangcoil Sword Doctrine."
Aelric nodded, stepping closer to one of the dummies. "Every dummy here moves. They're powered by mana cores. You just have to follow the basic pattern—attack, defend, attack again. Over and over."
He gave a small smile. "These dummies were made specially for this skill. They're tough enough to withstand constant mana strikes, so don't worry about breaking them."
Riven added, "Just keep doing it. Again and again. The more you practice, the more natural it'll become. If you stick to it, no one will be able to stop you from mastering Fangcoil."
Then, one of the twins drew his sword and demonstrated.
With smooth, precise movements, he struck the dummy—his blade following a sharp, coiling path, almost like a serpent lashing out.
Each movement seemed to flow into the next without pause.
Nerion watched, his eyes shining with excitement.
The twins led Nerion to a small cottage nestled at the edge of the training ground. It was simple, yet solid—built with care, exuding a calm, practical atmosphere.
"This is where you'll stay while you're training," Aelric said, his voice steady as he gestured around the modest interior. "You can live here."
Riven added, "Servants have set it up for you. Here's the kitchen."
Nerion glanced around. The kitchen was small but functional, dominated by a rune-powered machine sitting in the corner. Its design was simple yet intricately detailed, runes carved along its edges.
Aelric approached the machine, explaining, "You don't need to cook your food here. Just put flour, eggs, and meat into this, and it'll make stable meals on its own. No need to worry about cooking."
Riven moved over to a cupboard and opened it, revealing neatly organized sacks of flour, bundles of meat, and eggs stacked carefully. "This will last you for three months. If you run out, there's more in the attic. You won't go hungry."
Aelric nodded, continuing, "Next door, there's a larger rune-powered storage to keep everything fresh. The food stays preserved there."
The twins shared a glance. "Everything's taken care of. Just focus on your training."
Nerion nodded, still surprised by the ease of it all. "Thanks… this is more than I expected."
The twins led Nerion into another room, its walls lined with shelves full of various items. Riven walked over to a large armoire and pulled open the doors. Inside, he took out a small, neatly packaged box.
He handed the box to Nerion. "These are training pills," Riven explained. "They'll help with your basic stat and constitution growth. You should take them before and after your training sessions."
Aelric added, "These pills are made for Ember rank, so they'll be very useful for you, especially at your stage."
Riven then peeled off a small page from the box and handed it to Nerion. "This is the description of each pill, along with the times when you should take them. Follow the instructions carefully."
Nerion nodded, taking the pills and the page. The small packet felt strangely heavy in his hand, and he could already feel the weight of his brothers' expectations as he examined the description.
Aelric smiled. "This will help you improve faster, but don't overdo it. Focus on your training and use these to keep your body in top condition."
Both Riven and Aelric looked at Nerion with a serious yet affectionate expression.
Riven spoke first, his voice full of concern. "Nerion, train hard. When you master your skills, you'll be able to enter the world of the Tower much more safely. We've been worried about you ever since you were born."
Aelric nodded, his gaze softening. "You were born premature, Nerion. It was a very critical time for everyone in the family, and we've always been cautious, hoping you'd grow strong enough for what's to come."
The twins stepped forward, and without another word, they pulled Nerion into a tight, heartfelt hug.
For a moment, Nerion stood frozen, taken by surprise, but then, a warm sense of gratitude filled him. His brothers had always supported him, but hearing their words now, he felt their love and concern more than ever.
He smiled softly, the weight of their bond solidifying in his chest. "I won't let you down," Nerion murmured, his voice filled with quiet resolve.
Unlike many other noble houses, the Ophirein family valued love over rivalry. Their ambitions were strong, but their bond was stronger, forged through hardship and shared struggles. In a world of power-hungry families, they stood united, prioritizing loyalty and care for each other above all else.
With that, the twins left, leaving Nerion to take in his new surroundings.
After leaving Nerion behind in the vast training grounds, Riven and Aelric made their way through the winding halls of the manor, their steps quick and certain.
They moved past knights in armor, past soulbound servants, past towering rune-lit walls, until they reached the inner chambers of the estate.
There, standing by the tall window overlooking the estate grounds, was their father—Count Alaric Ophirein.
He turned slightly at their approach, his sharp eyes catching every detail without a word.
Riven stepped forward first.
"Father, we've brought Nerion to the training grounds. He's started."
Aelric added, a small proud smile on his face, " We showed him the path."
Count Alaric didn't speak immediately.
He simply gazed out the window for a moment longer, watching the clouds drift over the distant hills.
Finally, he nodded once.
A gesture of approval, heavy with meaning.
"Well done," he said quietly. "Let him forge himself."
The twins bowed slightly, the weight of their father's expectations pressing on their shoulders—but they wore it proudly.
Without another word, Count Alaric turned back to his thoughts, and the brothers took their leave, a silent promise forming between them.
They would watch over Nerion from afar.
And when the time came, he would stand beside them—strong, unshakable, and ready for the world beyond.