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Cyril's footsteps echoed in the quiet hallway as he walked toward his father's study. His hand instinctively rested on the hilt of his new Ironclad Longsword, the weight of it still strange but reassuring. He hadn't expected his father to summon him so soon, especially not after the strange events with the system and the mysterious powers he'd unlocked. But there was no turning back now. He had to face whatever was coming.

When he reached the study door, Sebastian was already standing there, his usual impassive expression in place. He gave a slight bow, then opened the door for Cyril.

"Your father is waiting, young master."

Cyril nodded, feeling the weight of his father's expectations pressing down on him like a mountain. He stepped into the study, the familiar scent of parchment and aged wood filling the air. His father, Lord Dravis Avelwyn, stood near the window, looking out over the vast Avelwyn estate, his posture as stiff and imposing as always. The man didn't turn around immediately, but the moment Cyril stepped in, his father's voice cut through the silence.

"Cyril," Lord Dravis began, his tone sharp. "Do you know why I called you here?"

Cyril paused for a moment, trying to keep his mind steady. "No, Father. I assume it's about my absence from the training hall."

Lord Dravis finally turned, his cold grey eyes narrowing as he took in his son. Cyril could feel the weight of those eyes, like they were piercing right through him. His father had always been like that—demanding, strict, with expectations that were nearly impossible to meet. The silence stretched for a few more seconds before Lord Dravis spoke again.

"You've been absent from your training for the past few days," Lord Dravis said, his voice low but filled with a simmering frustration. "This is unacceptable. As heir to House Avelwyn, you are expected to be in the training hall every day. Your swordsmanship is still mediocre at best. You've shown no improvement for weeks. What excuse do you have for this?"

Cyril bit his lip. He wanted to tell his father the truth—that he hadn't been able to focus because his world had just flipped upside down with whatever had happened to him. This is his second time living as Cyril, the system, the new powers, the dragon's mark... But he knew that would only make things worse. His father wouldn't understand. He'd never understand.

"I've been… distracted," Cyril said, choosing his words carefully. "I'll get back to it, Father."

Lord Dravis didn't seem satisfied with the answer, but he nodded stiffly. "You'd better. You have the engagement to the Delmore girl coming up. You will need to be ready. Not just for her, but for what comes after. The future of this family depends on you."

The mention of his engagement made Cyril's stomach turn. He'd known about it for years. Lord Dravis had arranged it long ago, a marriage to solidify the Avelwyn family's power and influence in the region. Elira Delmore—beautiful, poised, and completely uninterested in anything beyond the wealth and status the marriage would bring. She had always been polite to him, but their interactions were few, and there was no real connection between them. He didn't know what she saw in him, or if she even cared, but the thought of marrying her, of being tied to her for life, didn't sit right with him.

"Understood," Cyril said quietly.

"You'll need to attend the Delmore estate for a formal meeting soon. The engagement must be public, and preparations for the wedding must begin immediately. I expect you to handle it with the same level of responsibility you would a battle, Cyril." His father's voice was as cold and businesslike as ever.

Cyril kept his expression neutral, though inside, a wave of frustration began to build. It was a political move, and he was just a pawn in the game. His father didn't care about his happiness or his opinion on the matter. It was all about power. The marriage would secure Avelwyn's standing in the region, and that was all that mattered to Lord Dravis.

Before Cyril could respond, his father spoke again, his tone more serious now.

"I'm sending you to Brakmoor," Lord Dravis said, crossing his arms over his chest. "There's been word of a rebellion stirring in the borderlands. Bandits, rogue mages, and traitors. It's a mess. I want you to go and find out what's really going on. No one trusts the information coming from that region, so you'll need to see for yourself."

Cyril's heart skipped a beat. Brakmoor. The borderlands were dangerous, filled with lawless people who didn't care about noble blood or titles. It was a place where survival was all that mattered, and where people disappeared without a trace. But it was also the perfect place to test his new abilities, to see if he could handle real danger, not just the training hall's sparring sessions.

"When do I leave?" Cyril asked, his voice steady despite the unease rising in his chest.

"Immediately. Prepare yourself. I don't care if it's uncomfortable or inconvenient. You will leave at once," Lord Dravis ordered. "And don't come back until you've figured out what's going on there. This could be a threat to the entire kingdom. We need to stay ahead of it."

Cyril nodded, his mind already racing. He had no choice but to obey. This was a mission—one that could affect the entire Avelwyn family's future.

"Understood, Father," Cyril said, his voice firm.

Lord Dravis gave him a curt nod. "Good. And don't forget about your engagement. The Delmore family is expecting you. Make sure you're prepared for that as well."

As Cyril turned to leave the study, Lord Dravis' voice stopped him once more.

"One last thing, Cyril," his father said. "Don't make the mistake of thinking you can hide from responsibility. You're the future of this house. Act like it."

Cyril didn't reply. He simply left the room, his mind already processing everything. Brakmoor, the borderlands, the rebellion. His new powers. His engagement.

Everything was coming at him at once, and he wasn't sure he was ready for it. But he didn't have a choice. He couldn't back down now. The weight of his family, his duty, his future—it was all too much.

He had to prove himself.

And he had to do it fast.