The Demon's Shield

Bel's first day in the Duke's estate was slightly overwhelming.

The moment he stepped out of his chambers, he felt the weight of countless eyes on him, some curious, others skeptical, and a few downright disapproving.

His introduction to Duke Alden Verholt and his family had been tense. The Duke, a tall man with sharp eyes that seemed to see straight through people, listened silently as the Baron introduced Bel as his newly appointed knight.

The room fell still at those words.

In the Kingdom of Eldoria, knights weren't simply chosen on a whim. They were born into service, their loyalty bound by family legacy and years of training.

A peasant being elevated to such a position? It was unheard of. To some, it was an insult.

The Duke studied Bel carefully, his sharp gaze weighing him as if judging a rock. The silence stretched until he finally spoke.

"This is rather unusual, Baron. Knighthood is not a position granted on sentiment. It is earned through blood, discipline, and generations of service. Perhaps in a lesser barony, such an irregularity might pass unnoticed, but here, such boldness invites scrutiny."

The Baron, keeping his frustration masked behind a forced smile, straightened his posture.

"Your Grace, after the horrors we endured, I had little choice. This boy stood beside me when all else crumbled. He has lost everything, yet he fought to survive. I will mold him into something worthy. I take full responsibility."

The Duke leaned back, fingers tapping idly against the armrest, his expression unreadable. Then, with slow deliberation, he nodded.

"Very well. But understand this, his place here will not be given. He will be tested. He will meet the standard or be discarded. I will not allow the dignity of knighthood to be diluted by misplaced sentiment."

And with that, Bel was officially recognized as the Baron's knight, though whether he would keep that title remained to be seen.

The news spread fast, and reactions within the estate were mixed. The Duke's staff, retainers, chamberlains, stewards, and knights, all had their own thoughts on the matter.

Some barely cared. Others, particularly the knights who had trained for years for their positions, were less than thrilled. To them, Bel was an outsider who had not earned his place.

Training was set to begin immediately. Until the royal capital sent aid to help rebuild the Baron's estate, Bel would be placed under the care of the Duke's household staff.

The knights of House Verholt, elite warriors who had served the Duke's family for generations, would oversee his combat training. The butlers and chamberlains would drill him in etiquette and noble customs.

Even the maids had been tasked with teaching him how to carry himself with dignity.

Bel's new life in the Duke's household truly began on the second day.

A firm knock at the door pulled him from sleep.

"Time to rise, young master," the butler's steady voice called as the heavy curtains were drawn open, letting in warm morning light.

Blinking groggily, Bel sat up. The sheer luxury around him still felt unreal.

Back in his village, he had woken on a straw mattress, cold air biting at his skin. Now, he lay in silk sheets, wrapped in a bed so soft it felt like a cloud.

He was led to a private bathhouse, where steaming water filled a stone tub. Nothing like the icy river he had washed in before. He hesitated before sinking into the warmth, letting it soothe his skin.

Dressed in fine but simple clothes, he was taken to breakfast. The dining hall overwhelmed him, a long table stretched before him, covered in fresh bread, fruit, and meats. More food than he had ever seen in one place.

He hesitated, feeling out of place. The nobles barely acknowledged him, but the Baron played his role, loudly boasting about Bel's bright future as his knight. Bel simply ate quietly, observing.

After breakfast, he was introduced to noble etiquette. A tutor droned on about posture, addressing different ranks, and even how to hold a teacup properly.

It was tedious, but he listened, knowing this was only the beginning.

The lessons were tedious, and the more he learned, the more he realized how out of place he truly was.

But that wasn't the hardest part of his day. His real training to become a knight had begun.

Bel was led to the training courtyard, a vast space lined with practice dummies and filled with knights practicing their drills. He was introduced to the man in charge of his training, Sir Aldric.

The knight was tall, broad-shouldered, and had the kind of presence that commanded respect. His sharp eyes scanned Bel from head to toe, unimpressed.

"You're the Baron's new 'knight,' are you?" Aldric's tone carried doubt. "Knighthood isn't a gift, boy. It's not some trinket you hand out. It's earned. Not everyone is meant to walk this path."

Bel simply nodded. He already knew what people thought about him, and honestly, he didn't care.

Aldric crossed his arms.

"We'll see what kind of body you have before wasting any time. Run through the forest trail. No complaints."

Bel frowned but nodded. He wasn't exactly an athlete. Back in the village, he was usually too hungry or exhausted to do anything beyond survival. Still, he had no choice now.

The moment he started running, something felt... different.

His body was light. Too light. Each step carried him forward with ease. His feet barely felt the ground. He expected his legs to burn, his lungs to ache, but instead, he felt nothing. Curious, he pushed harder, running faster than ever before.

Then, suddenly, reality came back like a truck. He was quickly exhausted. His breath caught, and he staggered, slowing down.

But then again, just as he thought he'd have to stop, something strange happened. His breathing steadied. The exhaustion faded almost instantly, and a new breath of energy surged back into his muscles.

"What...?" he muttered.

His strength had returned, just like that.

He picked up the pace again, testing himself. If he ran too fast, his stamina drained quickly, but if he kept a steady pace, he recovered almost immediately. His eyes flicked upward.

Above him, hovering in his vision, was the ever-present system screen.

It had been there since he woke up, always catching his attention. No one else seemed able to see it, he had even tried hinting at it with many people, but all had remained oblivious.

His gaze locked onto one particular stat: [Stamina: 14].

Was this why he felt so different? All these attributes definitely played a role in his new constitution.

His grip tightened. He wanted to know more.

He increased his pace, running faster, then let himself reach exhaustion again. The moment he slowed, his body recovered, and he surged forward once more. Again and again, he repeated the process, pushing himself past his limits.

Aldric, following at a steady pace on horseback, narrowed his eyes. With his scrawny build and lack of muscle, Aldric had expected Bel to be out of breath within ten steps.

Yet the boy kept running, pushing himself without stopping. His endurance was definitely not normal.

And it annoyed him.

Let's see how far he can go, Aldric thought.

Instead of ending the test, he let Bel keep running. If the boy wanted to push himself, then so be it. He would see how long his strange stamina could last.

Bel, unaware of Aldric's silent challenge, kept running. His body felt lighter, stronger. His mind raced with the realization that whatever this system was, it had already begun changing him in ways he couldn't fully understand.

Meanwhile, inside the lavish halls of the Duke's estate, Dusteria stormed into her father's chamber, her hands clenched into fists.

The Baron sat calmly by the window, sipping a fine glass of wine, seemingly unfazed by his daughter's visible frustration.

"Father," she hissed, slamming the door behind her, "what were you thinking? Declaring that peasant as our knight?! Do you have any idea how shameful this is for our family? It's bad enough that we lost everything, but now you've gone and tied our name to a mons..."

The Baron sharply raised a hand, stopping her before she could finish. His gaze flickered to the door before settling on her with a pointed look.

"Learn how to speak within these walls, girl," he said quietly.

Dusteria bit the inside of her cheek, but her glare didn't waver.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Father."

The Baron took another slow sip of his wine before finally setting the glass down.

"You already understand that losing that boy and death mean the same thing to us now," he stated. "By making him our knight, we ensure a bond of dependence. Loyalty. He will stay with us, indebted to us. That way, we escape what you know."

Dusteria's fingers dug into her arms.

"We could have made him a servant, a worker, anything else far from the house. Declaring him a knight brings disgrace to our house!"

The Baron let out a dry chuckle and shook his head.

"You still don't understand nobility, do you? Our power, if you can call it power, everything about our status, is determined by what we possess. Until now, our nobility was secured by our family's possession of the Crux. That relic made us valuable, even at the bottom of the food chain." His expression darkened slightly. "Now it's gone. And without value, we are nothing. We will lose our title, our lands, everything."

He turned toward the window, watching the estate's courtyard where nobles and knights conversed. His hand absently traced the edge of the eye patch covering his injured eye.

"That thing," he continued, "by its very nature, has the potential to become the strongest knight in the world. If we mold him correctly, train him to be a loyal pet, he could become a weapon. A shield. A force that will make us indispensable. And the good part is that he doesn't even know what he is."

Dusteria crossed her arms, looking away.

"That's assuming we can control him. He's not normal."

"No, he's not," the Baron admitted, turning back to face her. "But we now know something crucial. The demons will not attack him, nor any land he defends."

Dusteria's gaze snapped back to him, uneasy.

"And?"

A slow smile spread across the Baron's lips.

"We live far from the highest nobles, from the center of power. If demons rampage again, there will be victims. Many nobles will fall. But we? We will have protection that no one else has. We will survive." He let the implication hang in the air, his fingers tightening around the stem of his glass. "And when the dust settles… we will rise."

Dusteria exhaled sharply, a flicker of something unreadable passing through her eyes. She had expected her father to be desperate, but this… this was something else.

The Baron studied her reaction before chuckling lightly.

"Don't look so troubled, my dear. We must think ahead. And right now, we have been given an opportunity. One that no one else has."

His hand absently traced the edge of the eye patch covering his injured eye before he finally spoke again.

"An eye for an eye, a demon for a gold coin," he murmured.

At noon, deep within the forest trail, Aldric finally signaled for Bel to stop.

"Enough," he commanded.

Bel slowed his pace, his breath coming in short, rapid bursts. He was drenched in sweat, his simple clothes clinging to his skin. His legs felt shaky, but not weak.

He seemed on the verge of collapsing, but once again, after a few seconds, his body recovered faster than expected. Within moments, he straightened up, his breathing steadying.

Aldric studied him with narrowed eyes, arms crossed, with a confused expression.

"Did you run a lot back in your village?" he asked, a hint of skepticism in his voice.

Bel shook his head.

"Rarely," he admitted. "I was just a stable boy."

Sir Aldric stiffened slightly. A stable boy? His jaw clenched at the thought. He had seen many squires, many knights in training, what Bel did was impressive for a beginner, but a peasant who had spent his life in a stable being declared a knight? It was an insult to the very foundation of knighthood.

He forced himself to remain composed, swallowing his distaste.

"Hmph." His voice was clipped. "We'll proceed to the next step of your training at the House of Verholt's knight grounds. Try to keep up."

With that, he pulled on the reins, guiding his horse forward through the forest, expecting Bel to follow on foot.

Bel wiped the sweat from his forehead and followed. His eyes naturally drifted upward, to the ever-present screen hovering in his vision. He had tried to ignore it, but it was impossible to block out completely.

And then, he froze.

Something was different.

His eyes widened as he noticed a change in the numbers displayed before him.

[ Draconic Evolution System ]

--------------------------------------------

Name: Belzerion

Title: None

Race: Dragon

Class: Lesser Wyrmling

Level: 1

EXP: 2/100

--------------------------------------------

Core Stats:

HP: 50/50

MP: 10/10

Strength: 10

Toughness: 12

Intelligence: 10

Speed: 11

Agility: 11

Stamina: 16

Pressure: 1

--------------------------------------------

Draconic Core: 1%

--------------------------------------------

Unlocked Traits:

- Wyrm's Resilience

Slightly enhanced endurance and recovery.

What?

His heartbeat quickened. He was sure some numbers were different before. He had seen them on his face long enough to remember their exact values, and now, there it was. His stamina and speed had increased.

The numbers had changed. His stats had improved.

From running?

Bel was frozen momentarily. This meant his stats weren't fixed, they could change.

His body wasn't bound by limits; it was evolving. The system was more than just some strange apparition, it was shaping him, molding him into something that could be stronger.

If just running could increase his stamina and speed, then what else could increase them?

His stunned expression lingered for a moment before he snapped back to reality.

He quickened his pace to catch up with Aldric, his thoughts racing even faster than his feet.