The Duke of Vaelcrest

Leon adjusted his breathing, suppressing the lingering disorientation from his sudden regression. His body still felt foreign—lighter, younger, unscarred by war—yet his mind remained sharp, filled with knowledge and experiences spanning countless timelines.

This was the earliest point he had ever regressed to.

And now, for the first time in hundreds of cycles, he would meet his father once again.

"Young Master Leon," Gerald's voice called from beyond the door. "The Duke is waiting in his study."

Leon cast one last glance at his reflection before exhaling slowly. His golden eyes, sharp yet carrying the weight of his past lives, flickered with an unreadable expression.

He turned toward the door.

"Let's see what's different this time."

Stepping into the hallway, the familiar scent of polished mahogany and candle wax greeted him. The corridors of Vaelcrest Manor remained unchanged—grand yet imposing, adorned with banners bearing the crest of a silver phoenix. Servants hurried about, their eyes momentarily widening as they caught sight of him before quickly bowing.

Leon noted their reactions.

In his previous life, he had rarely paid attention to the manor's staff. Now, he observed them carefully. Their movements were efficient, yet there was an underlying stiffness—a hesitation, a subtle nervousness.

Was it fear? Respect? Or something else?

Gerald, the ever-dignified butler, led him down the wide staircase. Despite his age, his posture remained straight, his movements precise. Leon had known Gerald since childhood, yet in this moment, he studied the man anew. How much did Gerald truly know about the Vaelcrest family's secrets?

They passed through the great hall, a vast chamber with towering windows that allowed sunlight to cascade over the black marble floor. The light reflected off the enchanted suits of armor lining the walls, their featureless helmets almost appearing to turn toward Leon as he walked past.

Leon paused briefly in front of one. In a previous timeline, he had discovered that these suits were not just decorations. They were sentinels—constructs imbued with ancient magic, capable of autonomous combat.

He glanced toward Gerald. "Are the sentinels still active?"

The butler gave him a sidelong glance, his expression betraying the slightest hint of surprise before he masked it. "Indeed, Young Master. The Duke had them reinforced last winter. A precaution."

A precaution against what?

Leon didn't ask. Instead, he simply nodded and continued walking.

Soon, they reached the grand study. The large oak doors loomed before him, polished yet aged, carrying the scent of old books and candle wax.

Gerald pushed them open, stepping aside.

Inside, Duke Aldric Vaelcrest sat behind a massive desk, the weight of his presence filling the room.

Leon's father had always been an intimidating man—broad-shouldered, his silver hair neatly combed back, his piercing blue eyes sharp and calculating. The sheer authority he exuded was palpable, as though the air itself bent to his will.

Leon stepped forward, meeting his father's gaze without hesitation.

For a brief moment, neither spoke. The only sound was the crackling of the fireplace.

Then, Aldric exhaled, tapping his fingers against the desk. "You were absent from training this morning."

Leon's mind worked quickly. In this timeline, his younger self was already undergoing combat training. That meant he wouldn't need to feign ignorance.

"My apologies," Leon replied smoothly. "I had much to think about."

Aldric narrowed his eyes. "Thinking does not sharpen your blade. Discipline does."

Leon nearly smirked. Same words. Same cold authority. Some things never changed.

"In war, hesitation leads to death," Aldric continued. "You will not always have time to think."

Leon met his father's gaze, allowing a flicker of amusement to show. "And yet, a warrior who does not think is no better than a beast wielding a sword."

Silence.

For the first time, Duke Aldric's expression shifted. Just slightly.

Leon had never spoken back like this in his previous life. His younger self had been obedient, eager for approval. But this time…

He wasn't the same boy.

Aldric studied him carefully, his gaze measuring. Then, instead of reprimanding him, he did something unexpected—he smirked.

"Clever words," Aldric said. "But words alone do not win battles."

Leon inclined his head slightly. "Agreed. That is why I intend to train twice as hard to make up for today's absence."

Aldric's smirk faded into approval. "Good."

Leon noted the shift in atmosphere. His father was still strict, still unyielding—but there was something different in the way he was being regarded.

Perhaps his father sensed it.

The change in him.

Aldric leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk. "I have a task for you."

Leon's interest piqued. "What kind of task?"

"An envoy from the Solmaria Empire will be arriving in three days," Aldric said. "Among them is a royal representative—Lady Aurelia Solis."

Leon stilled.

Aurelia Solis.

His mind immediately recalled a lifetime where she had been his queen. A lifetime where she had loved him… and ultimately, killed him.

Aldric continued, unaware of the storm of memories flashing through his son's mind. "You will be escorting her during her stay."

Leon exhaled slowly, keeping his expression neutral. "Of course."

He had lived too many lives where Aurelia played a crucial role. In one timeline, she had been his closest ally. In another, she had been the instrument of his execution. In yet another, they had been lovers—bound by passion and war, only to be torn apart by duty.

This time, she wouldn't remember him.

To her, this would be their first meeting.

But for him, it was a reunion with a ghost of his past.

As he left the study, Leon's mind was already working.

He had three days.

Three days before he would see Aurelia again.

This time, he would not let history repeat itself.

Leon walked down the long corridor of Vaelcrest Manor, his steps slow and deliberate. The conversation with his father had left him deep in thought. Three days. That was all the time he had before he would meet Aurelia Solis again.

The question was—what role would she play in this timeline?

In some lives, she had been an ally. In others, a lover. But in far too many, she had been the one to strike him down.

The weight of experience settled in his chest as he reached the balcony overlooking the manor's courtyard. From this vantage point, he could see the vast training grounds, where dozens of Vaelcrest knights honed their skills. The rhythmic clash of swords echoed through the crisp morning air, accompanied by the occasional barked command from the instructors.

His gaze sharpened. If he wanted to control his fate, he needed to ensure that his body could keep up with his mind.

Right now, he was sixteen again. His body lacked the strength and reflexes he had cultivated in his past lives. His muscle memory, honed through years of war, was still intact, but his physical form had regressed.

That needed to change—immediately.

Leon descended the staircase and strode toward the training grounds. The knights barely paid him any attention at first, assuming he was merely observing. But when he reached the central sparring ring and removed his coat, rolling up his sleeves, all eyes slowly turned to him.

"Clear the ring," Leon commanded.

The knights hesitated. Though he was the Duke's son, he was still young—and by their perception, untested. The older knights exchanged wary glances, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords.

Leon smirked. They're underestimating me. Good.

A burly knight with a shaved head and thick arms stepped forward, cracking his neck. "Young Master Leon," he said, his tone respectful yet firm. "Are you here to train, or to watch?"

Leon's golden eyes gleamed. "To test something."

The knight chuckled, shaking his head. "Then allow me to be your opponent."

Leon nodded. "Very well."

A practice sword was tossed toward him. He caught it effortlessly, rolling his wrist to test the weight. Too light. Too unbalanced. But it would do.

The knight raised his own blade, assuming a standard knight's stance—feet grounded, weight evenly distributed, his center guarded. A defensive approach, one meant to gauge an opponent's skill before committing to an attack.

Leon, on the other hand, simply stood there—completely relaxed, his sword held loosely at his side.

The knight frowned. "Young Master, if you don't—"

Leon moved.

To the untrained eye, it was instant.

One moment, he was standing still. The next, he had already closed the distance, his blade cutting through the air in a clean, perfect arc.

The knight barely managed to react, raising his sword just in time to parry—but the impact sent him stumbling backward.

Gasps erupted from the watching knights.

Leon tilted his head. Too slow. My body isn't responding as fast as I expected.

The knight recovered quickly, gritting his teeth. His expression had changed from amusement to focus. "Fast," he muttered. "But let's see if you can keep up."

He launched forward, his blade striking in a powerful diagonal slash. Leon saw it—too wide, too predictable. He sidestepped effortlessly, his body moving on instinct.

His sword lashed out, striking the knight's wrist with pinpoint precision. The weapon clattered to the ground.

A hush fell over the training grounds.

The knight froze, his gaze shifting between his fallen sword and Leon, disbelief evident in his eyes.

Leon exhaled through his nose. My movements are sluggish compared to my peak, but against someone of this level, it doesn't matter.

He lowered his weapon. "Again."

The knight hesitated, then slowly retrieved his sword. This time, when he raised it, there was no trace of mockery in his stance. Only caution.

Leon smiled. Good. Let's push this body to its limit.

---

An hour later, sweat dripped from Leon's brow as he stood in the center of the ring, surrounded by fallen opponents.

The first match had ended quickly, but after that, more knights had stepped forward, eager to test their skills against him. One by one, he had dismantled them—not with brute force, but with precision, exploiting every flaw in their technique.

Despite his victories, he could feel the strain creeping into his muscles. His stamina wasn't what it used to be. His younger body lacked the endurance he had built over lifetimes of battle.

That would have to change.

The watching knights murmured among themselves, some glancing at him with newfound respect, others with a mixture of wariness and curiosity.

Then, a slow clap echoed through the courtyard.

Leon turned his gaze toward the source.

Standing at the edge of the training grounds was a woman dressed in form-fitting, dark red armor. Her long, fiery crimson hair cascaded down her back, and her sharp, golden eyes gleamed with interest.

Leon's breath hitched.

He knew that face.

Selene Vermillion.

The War Goddess of Aries.

And in a past life… his deadliest rival.