"What is it, Miles?" Corbin’s voice was sharp. Miles adjusted his monocle. "I heard about the incident at the Gauntlet Trials testing ground, Young Master." Corbin turned his head, feigning disinterest. "So what?" "The word is you beat Leon Thorne and Joric Ashworth to a pulp. Is this true?" Corbin scoffed. "You already know the answer. Why ask?" Miles stepped closer. "I have watched over you since the day you were born, Young Master." "I know," Corbin said, changing his clothes. Miles had been the one responsible for Corbin until his expulsion from the family. His father, the head of the clan, had not so much as looked at him since the day he failed to awaken his aura at the Blessing Ceremony. With his mother long dead and his father a ghost in his own home, Miles had been the closest thing to a parent Corbin had ever known. Even when the rest of the family treated him like trash, Miles was the only one who remained by his side. Miles studied him. "May I ask what happened?" "Those bastards came after me, so I put them in their place. What more is there to know?" Despite Corbin’s harsh tone, Miles remained silent, his gaze unwavering. Corbin finally met his eyes. "What is it you want to say, Miles?" The old servant opened his mouth slowly. "Young Master, would you permit me to check your pulse?" Checking one's pulse was a euphemism for checking their aura. Corbin held Miles’s gaze for a long moment before silently extending his arm. "Be my guest." Miles took hold of Corbin’s wrist. Woooong! A current of energy flowed from the servant's hand, and Corbin flinched. Miles's aura began to seep through his body, examining every corner of his being. It was in that moment that Corbin realized something he had never known in his past life. A Blue Knight? The way Miles’s aura moved so freely within him was no ordinary feat. Even for a servant from the main family, a Blue Knight doing chores for a child? It was absurd. In the knightly orders of even small kingdoms, Blue Knights often held the rank of commander. As suspicion bloomed in Corbin’s mind, he watched Miles's lips press into a thin, tight line. Seeing the man's confusion, Corbin chuckled inwardly. He can search all he wants. He won't find a trace of aura. Opening the Mana Great Fane was fundamentally different from opening the Aura Core—a method almost no one in the world knew. Corbin himself had thought it was nonsense when his master first told him about it, for it was a concept that defied all common sense. Knights who awakened their aura and opened their Aura Core could not use mana. Conversely, mages who awakened their mana and formed a circle in their heart could not use aura. It was considered an absolute law that a Aura Core and a circle could not exist in the same body. Corbin, capable of using Regenerative, a form of magic, could not use aura. By opening his Mana Great Fane, however, he had gained access to mana, the fundamental energy that was the source of both. By wielding mana directly, Corbin could manifest a power entirely different from aura. Miles stared at Corbin, his expression grave. "Are you hiding something from me, Young Master?" Corbin met his serious gaze without flinching. "Are you hiding something from me, Miles?" At Corbin's pointed question, Miles's mouth snapped shut. In his past life, Miles had been a loyal servant who protected him until the very end. But now, knowing the man was concealing his true strength, Corbin couldn't afford to lower his guard. Could the other direct descendants have placed him here intentionally? Miles finally spoke again. "May I ask why you have changed so suddenly?" Only yesterday, Corbin had been scheming for ways to skip the Gauntlet Trials test. In a single day, he had become a different person. Corbin turned to face him fully. "That's the wrong question." A strange light flickered in Miles’s eyes. Corbin continued, his voice taking on a chilling edge. "You should have asked why I didn't change sooner." Miles offered no reply. Not that Corbin had expected one. He gestured dismissively. "The test in a week is a swordsmanship duel, correct?" Miles nodded. "Yes, Young Master." "Prepare a sword for me." "A different one than your usual practice blade?" "How am I supposed to duel with that hollow piece of junk?" Corbin frowned. "Prepare a claymore." "Claymores are significantly longer and heavier than standard swords," Miles replied calmly. "I know. The heavier, the better. I'll make my own adjustments, just bring one from the armory warehouse." Miles stared intently at Corbin for a long moment, then bowed his head. "As you wish, Young Master." "And reserve the personal training room for this afternoon. I'll head there after lunch. Leave the sword in the room for me." "As you wish." His instructions received, Miles departed without another word. The moment the door closed, Corbin let out a long breath. "Whew... I just returned and I'm already learning things I never knew." Corbin calmly collected himself, organizing his thoughts around the future he alone possessed. Knowledge of what was to come was a powerful weapon. Over the next twenty years, the continent would be shaken by events both large and small, heralding an era of great change. He began to lay plans, ready to use that future for his own ends. Just you wait, Wyrmsworn. This time, I will make thorough use of you all. That afternoon, Corbin made his way to the personal training room he had reserved. As expected of a facility built by the Vance Clan, the equipment was state-of-the-art. Mirrors lined the walls for checking one's form, and a wide array of muscle-training implements and practice weapons were readily available. Scanning the room, Corbin spotted the claymore lying on a table. "Miles is nothing if not impeccable." He lifted the weapon. The blade alone was over a meter long, and it weighed more than three kilograms. It was smaller than a bastard sword, but for the twelve-year-old Corbin, it was a heavy, unwieldy burden. "Hmm... the balance is good, at least." This was, after all, a primary facility of the Wyrmbane family, a clan of knights among knights. Even a common sword from their warehouse was crafted with care. Still not as good as the one I used to have. Of course, the claymore Corbin had wielded in his past life was a masterwork, a special blade that defied comparison. Pushing the thought aside, he suppressed his regret and took a stance, gripping the hilt with both hands. "Whew..." In his past life, he could swing swords far heavier than this with ease, but in this child's body, just holding it steady was a struggle. Corbin slowly began to swing the claymore. Thud! He couldn't control the momentum. The heavy blade was too much for him, and its tip crashed into the training room floor. He grunted, lifting the claymore again. "This is difficult without it." He closed his eyes, focusing his senses inward on his Mana Great Fane. A warm energy flowed from his solar plexus, spreading throughout his body. It was a cultivation technique that utilized mana, the pure energy of nature itself—a technique humans were not meant to learn. With his body now suffused with mana, Corbin swung the claymore again. Whoosh! The movement was far smoother than before. He planted his feet, anchoring his lower body, and repeated the basic vertical swing. Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! With each cut, the sword felt more familiar in his hands, the sound of the blade slicing through the air growing sharper. Then, after a time, even that sound vanished as his form perfected itself. Corbin lowered the weapon. "Ugh! I need to build my stamina first. A few more swings and I'll collapse from exhaustion." As an adult, Corbin had stood over 180 centimeters tall, his body a solid mass of flexible, resilient muscle. Now, he was barely 160 centimeters, with a slight build and almost no muscle to speak of. If not for the combat instincts and awakened skills from his past life, he never would have overpowered his cousins in Gauntlet Trials. Corbin clicked his tongue, looking down at his aching arms after only a few swings. "My body really was complete trash when I was young." He decided it was time to use his secret weapon. "Regenerative." A soft light enveloped his body, and the burning pain in his muscles vanished completely. Corbin lifted his restored arms, a satisfied expression on his face, and gripped the sword once more. This was how Corbin had always utilized Regenerative. He would push his muscles past their limits, heal the torn fibers with magic, and then immediately push them again. This brutal cycle strengthened his body several times faster than any normal training could. It was a hellish regimen, impossible for anyone without his extraordinary mental fortitude and willpower. "One week. It's a tight schedule, but... I'll just have to make it work." He began to swing the claymore again, and again, without rest. A week passed since the Gauntlet Trials evaluation. In that time, Corbin's performance became the hottest topic of conversation among the trainees. Corbin, once seen as a weakling unworthy of the Vance name, had shown a completely different side of himself. Some whispered that he must be using some evil power, a gift from black magic. Finally, the day of the swordsmanship duel arrived, the last event of the year-end evaluation. Mealtimes at the Crucible were strictly scheduled. Because the training was so harsh, the meals were carefully prepared to provide a perfect balance of nutrients. Breakfast, in particular, was served buffet-style, allowing the trainees to eat their fill. Adjacent to the common dining area was a separate room, one that only the children of prominent families within the Vance blood alliance could enter. Unlike the practical, nutrition-focused fare outside, luxurious dishes were laid out on the tables within. Owen, Reina, Joric, and Leon were seated around a large round table. Servants moved silently, placing each of their preferred dishes before them. Owen picked up his knife and fork, gracefully cutting his plain fish into bite-sized pieces. In front of Reina, however, sat an entire steak, blood-rare. She carved off a large piece and put it in her mouth, chewing with vigor—a hearty meal befitting the heir to the Calder clan, known for producing the strongest physiques of all. Joric and Leon sat motionless, their food untouched. Seeing them, Owen spoke. "You should eat, even if you have no appetite. You'll need a full stomach for the duels this afternoon." At his words, Leon looked up, glaring at Owen. "Are you looking for a fight?" Owen shook his head, his expression indifferent. "There's no point in speaking to someone who can't recognize kindness." Leon shot to his feet. "How dare you..." Just then, Reina, having nearly finished her steak, glanced up and fixed Leon with a cold stare. He flinched under her gaze and slowly sank back into his chair. Joric, who had been silent until now, finally opened his mouth. "So, what are we going to do?" Owen, Reina, and Leon all turned to him. They knew exactly who he was talking about. Corbin Vance. Owen dabbed his mouth with a napkin. "Well... I don't know if it was a fluke or something else, but he won't be able to pull a stunt like that in a proper sword duel." He continued, a cold glint in his eyes, "We'll find out today just what else Corbin is hiding." Reina, having devoured her entire steak, stood up abruptly. She picked up the massive sword that had been leaning against her chair and looked down at the others. "Did that really seem like a fluke to you?" Her words caught Owen's attention. Reina swept her gaze over the three boys still seated at the table. "You are not worthy of becoming Vance knights." With that, she strode out of the dining Great Fane. "That arrogant bitch..." Leon slammed his hand on the table, trembling with rage. Owen tapped a finger against the tabletop, his mind racing. Reina and Corbin. This could get interesting. A genius who had awakened her aura at the age of ten, even before the Blessing Ceremony. It seemed Reina Calder had finally found her prey.

Chapter 4: A Secret Awakened