Souvik_3016

treated worthless in his own clan and people, a powerless boy lives like a loser in a world ruled by magic and nobility. With no attributes, no magic, and no title, he’s treated as nothing more than an NPC in his own life. His only light—his girlfriend—abandons him for a powerful noble who is going to become a top and poweful person, crushing what little hope he had left. But fate doesn’t forget. When a forgotten curse awakens in his bloodline, he rises not as a hero... but as vengeance reborn. This time, he won’t just chase justice—he’ll rewrite the world’s rules.

heir of the cursed blood

The halls of RagDon had changed for Kael.

For the first time, his hands weren't bruised from sparring, but ink-stained from writing. He spent hours hunched over books about court manners, noble bloodlines, continental politics, and the dozens of ways to insult someone without ever raising a sword. He learned the subtle art of nodding just enough, the way a fork must be held at a royal dinner, and when to bow depending on the rank of the person in front of him.

"Sit straight, boy. You're not preparing for battle, you're preparing to survive the ballroom," Eorun barked, smacking him lightly on the back with a rolled-up scroll.

But Kael learned. Because he had to.

Because the world he was entering — Astral Sanctum Academy — wasn't just filled with monsters in dungeons. It was filled with monsters in robes, in golden rings, in words dipped in poison.

Eorun taught him more than etiquette. He taught him how to see through a fake smile. How to hide your pain behind polished boots. And how to never, ever show fear — even when your blood runs cold.

As the final day of his stay in RagDon arrived, Kael stood in the courtyard once again, where his journey had started. This time, his cloak was black and fitted, trimmed with faint silver thread. His boots were clean. His white-bladed sword was sheathed across his back, and his posture was tall — no longer the hunched, broken figure who once lay beaten in this very place.

Eorun walked up, arms folded behind his back, carrying a long, wrapped item under one arm. His expression was unreadable, but something softer shimmered in his eyes.

Kael gave a quiet bow. "I'm ready."

Eorun didn't answer immediately. He looked Kael up and down, taking in the transformation.

"You walk like a noble now," Eorun muttered. "Still talk like a street rat, though."

There was a brief silence, heavy with unspoken words.

Then Eorun held out the wrapped item. "A gift."

Kael unwrapped it slowly. Inside was a slim shield, jet black with solid silver stripes crossing its surface like elegant veins. It wasn't large or clunky. It was sleek — designed for speed and agility. A perfect match to his aura-based fighting style.

"Crafted by the dwarves," Eorun said quietly. "Lightweight aurasteel. Can take a wyvern's fire head-on. Maybe even a slash from someone like that silver-haired brat."

Kael ran his hand across the cool surface. "Why?"

Eorun looked away, then spoke, voice low.

"You're about to enter a world where most people want to use you, break you, or forget you. You're not just fighting to prove yourself anymore. You're fighting to exist."

Kael tightened his grip on the shield.

"I won't be there with you this time," Eorun added, stepping back. "This is my last lesson."

Kael blinked. "You're… leaving?"

"I have things to do. You don't need to know now. But one day, when you're strong enough, I'll find you again. Until then—survive."

Kael took a shaky breath. "You saved me, Eorun. Even when I was at my worst."

Eorun smiled faintly. "Then repay me by becoming someone worth saving."

The wind blew gently between them. No more words were exchanged. None were needed.

Kael strapped the shield to his back, bowed once more, then turned toward the road that led to the central capital — to Astral Sanctum Academy.

And Eorun… watched him go, his figure slowly fading into the golden light.

A Shield of Farewell