Break (2)

The week passed in a blur of relentless training.

Every morning, I pushed my body to its limits. Every night, I collapsed onto my bed, muscles burning, mana reserves drained. The Hellfire was unlike anything I had ever wielded—wild, insatiable, a power that demanded absolute control or else it would consume everything, including myself.

Joseph didn't hold back during our sparring sessions. He drilled me in everything—swordplay, hand-to-hand combat, movement, endurance. I was already improving. My strikes were sharper, my footwork more refined. But I wasn't satisfied.

*Stronger.*

I needed to be stronger.

My mana core, once a mere one-star, had started to shift. The mana stones I had stolen from Hackendor, the fragments of power I had absorbed in the Demon Seed chamber—it was all coming together. I could *feel* it.

Late one night, as I sat on the balcony overlooking the estate grounds, I activated my status window.

**[Status]**

**Name:** Julius Vaelorian

**Race:** Human

**Mana Core:** ★★

**Strength:** D

**Agility:** D+

**Endurance:** D

**Intelligence:** C-

**Charm:** G+

A two-star mana core. My stats had improved as well. I was still far from where I needed to be, but it was progress.

And in this world, *progress meant survival.*

___

The morning of the seventh day, Joseph handed me a wooden sword instead of my usual training blade.

"Again," he said simply.

I exhaled, gripping the hilt. We had been at this since dawn, and I was already drenched in sweat, but I didn't complain. Complaining was for weaklings.

Joseph lunged first. I dodged, barely, and retaliated with a horizontal strike aimed at his ribs. He deflected it with ease.

"Too slow."

I adjusted, shifting my stance. This time, when I attacked, I followed up immediately with a feint before spinning into a second strike.

Joseph parried, but his eyes flickered with approval. "Better."

I didn't stop. The training continued, each clash of wood against wood sending vibrations up my arms. My muscles screamed in protest, but I ignored them.

By the time Joseph finally lowered his weapon, I could barely stand.

"You've improved," he admitted.

I wiped sweat from my brow, my breathing ragged. "Not enough."

Joseph smirked. "Not yet."

___

That evening, as I sat on my bed, still sore from training, a knock echoed against my door.

I didn't move. "Come in."

The door swung open, and a familiar figure stepped inside.

A butler. Not Joseph.

"The Lord requests your presence for dinner, Young Master."

I stilled.

Dinner? My father never invited me to family gatherings. Not unless he had a reason.

I stood, straightening my coat. "I'll be there."

___

The Vaelorian dining hall was a grand, imposing space. A massive table stretched down the center, chandeliers hanging overhead, casting golden light over the polished mahogany.

My father sat at the head of the table, his expression unreadable as always.

To his right sat Adrian Vaelorian—my older brother. Composed, dignified, every bit the perfect noble heir.

To his left was Lysandra Vaelorian—my cousin. Elegant, intelligent, her sharp violet eyes regarding me with silent amusement.

And at the far end, Blake Vaelorian—my half-brother. His sneer was already in place as I took my seat.

I was the last to arrive.

Typical.

As I sat down, Adrian gave me a glance. "Julius."

I nodded in response but said nothing.

Lysandra smirked. "Surprising to see you here. I thought you preferred drinking yourself into oblivion."

Blake scoffed. "Maybe he finally realized what a disgrace he is."

I ignored them both, reaching for my glass of wine. The moment I took a sip, my father spoke.

"I have gathered you all here for an important announcement."

The table fell silent.

My father's gaze swept over us before settling on Adrian.

"After careful consideration, I have made my decision."

A pause.

"Adrian will be named the heir to House Vaelorian."

Blake grinned. Lysandra looked pleased.

I? I didn't react at all.

Not surprising. Adrian was the obvious choice. I had no delusions about my place in this family.

But what did surprise me was my father's next words.

"And as for you, Julius…"

He turned his gaze to me, his expression unreadable.

"You will renounce your claim to the family name."

The room stilled.

Blake's grin widened. Lysandra leaned back, clearly enjoying the moment.

I met my father's gaze, keeping my voice even. "Expelling me from the family?"

His expression didn't change. "It is for the best."

A final, undeniable dismissal.

I exhaled through my nose, setting my glass down. "I see."

No outburst. No protest.

Just those two words.

My father regarded me for a moment before nodding. "It will be made official in the coming days."

The conversation shifted, moving on without me, as though I were already gone.

But then—

A crash.

The windows shattered as masked figures burst into the room.

The torches along the walls flickered violently before going out.

Chaos erupted.

Screams. The clash of steel. A gust of wind as something fast—*too fast*—moved between the shadows.

The elves had come.

___

The first attacker lunged for me, twin daggers gleaming in the dim light. I barely had time to react before Joseph intercepted him, blade meeting steel in a flash of sparks.

Another elf appeared behind me. I twisted, barely dodging the knife aimed for my throat. Without thinking, I activated *Hellfire.*

The flames roared to life around my fist, and I drove it into the assassin's chest.

He screamed as the black fire *ate* through his armor, his body convulsing violently before collapsing into a charred husk.

The other elves hesitated.

Good.

Fear was a weapon, too.

Across the room, Adrian was locked in combat with one of the attackers, his sword moving with practiced efficiency. Lysandra had conjured a defensive barrier, protecting herself and our father.

Blake, however, was cowering behind a chair, useless as always.

"Tch." I clicked my tongue, turning back to the fight.

Joseph cut down another attacker with ease, but more were pouring in through the broken windows.

One of the elves, a tall figure clad in dark robes, stepped forward. His voice was cold, filled with venom.

"Julius Vaelorian."

I turned to face him, flames still flickering around my hands.

His eyes burned with hatred. "Your crimes against our people will not go unanswered."

*Crimes?* Ah. This must be about Hackendor.

Before I could respond, he raised a hand.

A surge of mana exploded outward.

Then, pain.

A searing, suffocating force wrapped around me, binding my limbs in place. I struggled, but my body refused to move.

Paralysis magic.

The elf stepped closer, drawing a curved blade from his waist.

"This is justice."

The blade came down—

And then, something inside me *snapped.*

A pulse of dark energy erupted from my body, shattering the paralysis spell instantly.

The elf barely had time to react before my fist, wreathed in Hellfire, slammed into his gut.

He *screamed.*

Not just in pain—*in terror.*

Because this time, the flames didn't just burn.

They *devoured.*

His body crumbled into blackened ash.

I stood amidst the chaos, breathing heavily, my vision tinged with red.

The remaining elves hesitated.

And in that moment, they realized—

They weren't the hunters.

*They were the prey.*

I took a step forward, Hellfire flaring in my hands.

"Your turn."