Gerald.

"Why wouldn't I leave? Being in the presence of those demons could have erased me before I even realized it!"

Roselle scoffed, crossing her arms. "It seems even souls feel fear." She then shifted her attention back to the sword lying before her. Its golden hilt gleamed in the dim light, ancient runes pulsing faintly along its blade. Something about it felt... alive.

"Anyway, back to the weapon—you said it's Excalibur, a relic from the mythical ages. So, what's its rank? And how do I make myself worthy of wielding it?" she asked, gripping her wrist. Just recalling how her arms almost snapped from the weight of the blade made her wince. Her raw strength was at the Fifth Order, capable of lifting over 1,000 kilograms, yet Excalibur had nearly crushed her hands.

The Ancestral Spirit chuckled. "You don't know much about mythical artifacts, do you? Unlike modern magic tools, legendary weapons from that era don't follow your standard ranking system. They're bound to legends and powered by mythical principles rather than mere energy."

Roselle narrowed her eyes. "So you're saying Excalibur isn't limited to a specific tier?"

"Exactly. But if I had to place it within your current artifact system, its dormant state is at least Tenth Rank—stronger than your Eighth-Rank blade. However…" The spirit's voice deepened. "Its true power is beyond measurement. What you held was a sleeping giant, yet even then, it almost broke your arm."

Roselle's gaze lingered on the blade. The weight… it wasn't just physical. It felt like something within it was testing her, rejecting her unworthiness.

"So how do I wield it?"

The spirit hesitated before answering. "That's the question, isn't it? Excalibur does not simply accept anyone, not even those of noble blood. It must deem you worthy—your heart, your conviction, your purpose. The blade is bound to the ideals of kingship and righteous rule. If your soul lacks the strength to uphold them, it will never recognize you."

Roselle clenched her fist. "Kingship… huh?"

The idea of ruling had never appealed to her. But strength—that was different. Strength was something she needed. Desperately.

"Then I guess I'll just have to prove myself," she murmured.

She bent down, fingers grazing the hilt once more. The moment her skin made contact, a pulse of energy surged through her, pressing against her very existence, as if the sword itself was judging her soul.

For a second, a vision flashed in her mind—a golden kingdom, a radiant king, a sword raised against the heavens. And then—

The force repelled her, making her stumble back.

"Tch." She clicked her tongue. "I'll figure you out soon enough."

The Ancestral Spirit chuckled again. "Good luck with that, Princess."

---

Kingdom of Wilfharm – Two Days Later

Inside a small, weathered cabin on the outskirts of Wilfharm, a boy carefully fed his younger sister, a soft smile on his lips.

Gerald watched as Genny took small bites, her once-pale face now full of color. Her health had drastically improved, thanks to Terra, the True Spirit who had chosen him as its vessel.

"You're eating well today," he remarked, ruffling her hair.

Genny grinned. "It's because you're finally making food that doesn't taste like dirt!"

Gerald feigned a look of betrayal. "Wow. My cooking isn't that bad."

Genny giggled, but her eyes shone with genuine happiness. Just a few weeks ago, she had been on the brink of death, frail and coughing endlessly. Now, thanks to Terra's power, her body had recovered faster than humanly possible.

Gerald himself had grown stronger. Before, he was nothing but a street rat, powerless to protect even himself. But now? He had become a Fifth Order Mage, something even elite nobles would struggle to achieve at his age.

It was all because of Terra's Blessing—the ability to control earth, gravity, and solid minerals. A power with near-infinite potential, yet one he had only begun to scratch the surface of.

Still, he wasn't one for battle. Unlike bloodthirsty adventurers, Gerald simply wanted to live peacefully with his sister.

"You're still thinking about it, aren't you?" Genny suddenly asked.

Gerald blinked. "Thinking about what?"

She pouted. "Becoming an adventurer."

He sighed. "Actually, I've been considering something better."

Genny tilted her head. "Better?"

"In the Chorona Empire, there's an Academy that pays students a monthly allowance of 500 gold as long as they show potential." He smiled. "If I join, I can make money and get stronger at the same time."

Genny's eyes sparkled. "Five hundred gold!?"

Just as she was about to respond—

BANG!

The cabin door crashed open, revealing three armed men. Their expressions were anything but friendly.

The tallest one stepped forward, eyes burning with suspicion. "You. What the hell did you do to Luke and Mark?"

Gerald's body tensed, but his expression remained calm. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb!" the man snarled. "Those two chased you out of the city. But after that, they never returned. Nobody's seen them since."

A cold silence filled the room.

Genny trembled, clutching Gerald's sleeve. He gently patted her hand, reassuring her without words.

The truth was—he didn't know what happened to them either.

He had been running from them when he entered the cave—but when he looked back, their bodies were gone. All that remained was their bloodstained clothes, as if something had erased them from existence.

"I have no idea what happened to them," Gerald finally said. "I ran. When I looked back, they were already gone."

The intruder scoffed. "You expect me to believe that?"

Gerald shrugged. "It's the truth. Whether you believe it or not doesn't change a thing."

The man gritted his teeth, stepping closer. "Listen, brat. If I find out you had anything to do with their disappearance, I'll—"

A low rumbling echoed through the floor.

The men froze. The walls shook slightly, dust trickling from the ceiling.

Gerald's eyes darkened. He hadn't even done anything yet. But it seemed Terra was responding to his rising emotions.

"Careful," Gerald warned, his voice steady. "This house is old. If you cause too much trouble… it might just collapse."

The men hesitated. Though they still glared at him, they didn't move forward.

Gerald smiled. Good.

For now, words would do. But if they pushed him further—

He wouldn't hesitate to show them what a Fifth Order Mage could really do.