"Rival or What"

A cold whisper of wind slithered through the darkened corridors of the estate. Moonlight seeped through the cracks in the heavy curtains, casting silver streaks across the floor. Somewhere in the distance, the rhythmic ticking of a clock echoed in the silence.

A voice, quiet but laced with unwavering conviction, cut through the night.

"It doesn't matter who you are. One day, your power will be mine."

The Next Morning

Saaransh lay beneath the heavy blankets, his body still unwilling to surrender to the morning. The room was dim, the curtains drawn tight, shielding him from the sun's persistent rays. Then—footsteps.

Soft, deliberate. Drawing closer.

His eyes snapped open.

He pushed the blanket aside and sat up, sharp and alert. "Who's at the door?"

The door creaked open without hesitation. A familiar voice, laced with amusement, met his ears.

"Awake already?"

Saaransh exhaled, shoulders relaxing slightly. "Oh. It's you, Sylvaine."

His elder sister leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed. A knowing smirk played on her lips. "Did I interrupt your beauty sleep?"

"Not at all," he replied, stretching. "What do you want?"

Sylvaine studied him for a moment, her sharp eyes scanning his face. Then, she sighed. "You always act so composed. It's like you were born an old man."

Saaransh chuckled, though his expression remained unreadable. "I just don't see the point in acting like a reckless fool. Unlike some people."

Sylvaine raised an eyebrow. "Tch. There you go again. Anyway, Father wants to see you."

He nodded, already slipping out of bed. "Alright. Let's not keep him waiting."

She turned to leave but paused at the doorway. Her voice softened, just slightly.

"Don't do anything stupid, got it? No matter how much you pretend to be grown, you're still my little brother."

A small chuckle escaped him, but his eyes gleamed with something colder—something unreadable.

"I don't plan on staying little forever, Sylvaine. One day, I'll stand above them all."

Without another word, he followed her out.

The Patriarch's Study

The halls of the estate were bathed in golden morning light. Intricate paintings lined the walls, servants moved with quiet efficiency, their heads bowed as the siblings passed. But Saaransh barely spared them a glance.

His mind was elsewhere.

Why has Father summoned me?

His heartbeat remained steady, but his thoughts were razor-sharp. Does he know about last night? About the dark mana resisting me? No—if he did, he wouldn't have called me like this. That means… I still have time.

They stopped before a set of ornate double doors. Sylvaine pushed them open, revealing the spacious study beyond.

Inside, Reginald Stoneheart stood near a towering bookshelf, fingers idly flipping through an ancient tome. His very presence commanded attention.

His golden eyes—piercing and unyielding—lifted from the pages as they entered.

"You're here." His voice was calm, yet firm. "Sit."

Saaransh obeyed without hesitation, settling into the chair opposite his father. Sylvaine leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed.

Reginald studied his son for a long moment. Then, he spoke.

"How are you feeling? Any… unusual occurrences?"

Saaransh met his father's gaze evenly.

"He doesn't know."

He kept his expression neutral, his voice steady. "No. I feel fine. Just preparing for the Awakening Ceremony."

A flicker of something unreadable crossed Reginald's face, but he didn't press further.

"Good. Your awakening is six months away. I expect nothing less than excellence." He closed the book in his hand, placing it on the desk. "You carry our bloodline, the strength of our ancestors. Do not disappoint me."

Saaransh didn't flinch. His voice remained cool. "I won't."

A brief silence. Then, Reginald leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing slightly.

"You've always been talented, Saaransh. But talent alone means nothing. Power without control is meaningless. So tell me… what is it that you seek?"

A storm brewed beneath Saaransh's calm exterior, but outwardly, he remained composed. His answer came without hesitation.

"I seek mastery. Complete control over my power. To push beyond every limit placed upon me."

Reginald studied him carefully. "And for what purpose?"

Saaransh's fingers curled slightly against the armrest. His voice remained unwavering.

"To carve my own destiny. To stand unchallenged. To never be bound by the will of others."

A slow, calculating smile spread across Reginald's lips. "Hmph. Ambitious words." He stood, his imposing figure casting a long shadow across the room. "Then prove them."

The air grew heavier.

"From today, your training will intensify. No excuses. No limits. If you truly desire power, you will earn it."

Saaransh exhaled slowly, nodding.

"I expected nothing less."

Reginald smirked. "Good. Then prepare yourself, my son. Your real test begins now."

As Saaransh rose to leave, his father added one final warning.

"Do not lose to your cousins."

Saaransh glanced back, eyes sharp. "I won't."

"And if you do," Reginald continued, "it won't matter. Strength is not just about winning—it is about surviving."

A smirk tugged at the corner of Saaransh's lips. "I'll do more than survive, Father. I'll dominate."

Reginald chuckled. "We'll see."

A Shadow in the Room

Back in his chambers, Saaransh collapsed onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.

"Six months. That's all I have."

He clenched his fist.

"This body is remarkable. Far superior to my last. If I can master the dark mana… if I can make it mine… then nothing will stop me. Two sword auras. A power unseen before."

A slow exhale. His thoughts were interrupted by the creaking of the heavy doors.

A man stepped inside.

Tall. Dressed in a pristine butler's uniform. Every movement precise, controlled. His steel-gray eyes locked onto Saaransh like a predator observing its prey.

Alistair.

Reginald's most trusted retainer. Not just a butler—but an enforcer. A shadow in the dark.

"Young Master." Alistair bowed slightly. His voice was smooth, yet carried an unmistakable edge. "Pardon my intrusion."

Saaransh sat up, his expression unreadable. "Alistair. It's rare for you to come personally. What is it?"

Alistair studied him for a brief moment before speaking.

"One of your cousins is on their way to the palace."

Saaransh remained still. Then, he smirked. "Oh? And which one would that be?"

Alistair's voice carried a weight that made the air in the room heavier.

"The one who considers you their greatest rival. The one who seeks to take what is rightfully yours."

A sharp silence followed.

Then, Saaransh chuckled, a cold amusement glinting in his eyes.

"Rival, huh?"

He leaned back, exhaling.

"Let the fun begin."

Outside, the wind howled against the palace walls. A storm was coming.