LXenon

In the land of Aetheria, strength is everything. The great warrior families—Argenthelm, Dravenmoor, and Varkos, and vaelor—rule with the might of their swords, their names etched in history as the strongest knights to ever live.  

Born into the prestigious Argenthelm family, Rael was expected to follow in their footsteps, to master the sacred sword techniques and awaken the power that runs through his bloodline. But no matter how hard he trained, no matter how many battles he endured, he could never grasp the essence of sword aura.  

To his father, to his brothers, and to the world, he was a failure.  

On his sixteenth birthday, Rael is cast out, forced to undergo the Trial of Kings—a cruel test that has claimed the lives of countless unworthy heirs. Alone, with nothing but a dagger in hand, he is thrown into the deadly wilds of Aetheria, where monsters, mercenaries, and rival warriors lurk in the shadows.  

But Rael is not like the others. He does not rely on brute force. He does not wield an unstoppable blade.  

he THINKS. He ADAPTS.He SURVIVES.

And if the world refuses to acknowledge him as a knight—then he will carve his name into history another way.

The survival of the weakest knight

"Urgh, my head hurts…" I muttered, reaching up to my forehead. My fingers trembled as they brushed against warm liquid. Blood.

"Dammit…" I forced myself to sit up, my back pressing against the damp stone wall. The scent of mold and iron filled my nostrils, a familiar stench that clung to me ever since I was a child.

Born into the Argenthelm family, the greatest lineage of swordsmen on the continent of Aetheria, I was supposed to be strong. A warrior destined for greatness, a prodigy wielding the family's legendary sword techniques.

But no matter how hard I tried, no matter how many hours I spent training, I couldn't learn sword aura.

For others in my family, it was as natural as breathing. By the time they were ten, they could coat their blades in energy, slicing through steel like it was parchment. But me? I struggled even to match the footwork. The forms felt wrong, the techniques never stuck, and every time I tried to manifest aura, I failed.

I was a disgrace. An embarrassment to the Argenthelm name.

The sound of iron grinding against stone broke my thoughts. The dungeon door swung open, and a flickering lantern cast a long shadow into the room.

"Still alive, huh?" The voice was cold, laced with amusement.

I looked up to see Cedric, my older brother, standing in the doorway. His golden hair and sharp blue eyes were the perfect image of our father in his youth. He was the pride of our family—the next great Argenthelm swordsman.

"Father has finally decided," Cedric said, stepping inside. He crossed his arms, looking down at me as if I were an insect. "You're to take the Trial of Kings at dawn."

I inhaled sharply. The Trial of Kings. A test that every son of Argenthelm had to take when they came of age. A chance to prove their worth.

For Cedric and the others, it was just another step on their path to greatness.

For me, it was a death sentence.

"They're sending me out unarmed, aren't they?" I asked, my voice steady despite the dread clawing at my chest.

Cedric smirked. "Not quite." He pulled something from his belt and tossed it onto the ground in front of me. A dagger.

I stared at it. A blade barely longer than my hand. Against the monsters and bandits lurking in the wilds, it was as good as useless.

"You'll last a little longer this way," Cedric said mockingly. "Father's being generous. Maybe you'll even put up a fight before they tear you apart."

I met his gaze. "Is that what you're hoping for?"

Cedric shrugged. "I don't really care. Whether you die quickly or slowly, it doesn't change the fact that you're not one of us."

Because I couldn't wield a sword the way they could. Because I didn't have the talent, the strength, the skill.

I picked up the dagger, turning it over in my hands. It was small, light. But a weapon was a weapon.

Cedric scoffed. "Don't tell me you're actually planning to survive."

They thought I was weak. That I was nothing without sword aura.

But if I couldn't fight like them, then I'd fight another way.

Through intelligence. Through desperation.

Through whatever means necessary.

At dawn, I would be thrown into the wilds.

By dusk, I would prove them wrong.

Prove them wrong