Darius Thornevale

I froze for a moment as the door clicked shut behind me.

His presence alone was suffocating. Even without a word, I could feel it—the sheer pressure of a man who stood at the pinnacle of the world. His aura filled the office like an ocean, calm and unmoving, yet carrying the weight of unimaginable depth.

For several seconds, we didn't speak. We simply stared at each other, two calm gazes locked in silence.

Then his voice broke the stillness.

"You've improved, Mika."

It was deep and steady, the kind of voice that didn't rise or fall but simply was. Emotion seemed foreign to him, but there was a faint undertone in his words—approval.

"It seems you're no longer wasting your time."

"Yes… Sir."

"Good. Good."

A small smile ghosted across his face. Subtle—so faint I almost missed it. If I hadn't been watching him carefully, I wouldn't have noticed it at all.

So this is Darius Thornevale.

In the novel, only fragments of his personality were ever revealed through the eyes of other characters. Now, face-to-face, he didn't seem like a bad man. Cold? Certainly. Expressionless? Perhaps. But there was no malice in him—at least not yet.

"Sit down, Mika."

His crimson eyes sharpened slightly. "I want to see it for myself—how much you've grown."

I hesitated, unsure of what he meant by see it for himself. How much could he discover if he probed too deeply? Would he notice the truth—that I was no longer bound by limits?

There were rare cases of people experiencing a second awakening, but those were one in a million. If he suspected something beyond that…

No. Don't overthink it. Just play along for now.

"Yes… Sir."

Again, the faintest flicker of a smile touched his lips when I said it.

So the original Mikael never showed him much respect…

I stepped forward and sat in the chair opposite his desk, keeping my posture straight as his crimson gaze bore into me like a blade testing the edge of steel.

"Give me your hand, Mika."

I hesitated for only a moment before nodding. Quietly, I extended my hand across the desk.

His grip was firm, yet surprisingly careful—almost as if he was holding something fragile. For a brief moment, nothing happened. His crimson eyes closed, and an unnatural stillness settled in the room.

I couldn't tell what he was doing. It wasn't mana probing; no, this felt… deeper. Like he was peering beyond flesh and bone, searching for something unseen.

Then, just as suddenly, he released me.

I raised an eyebrow slightly, unable to hide the question in my gaze. What did you see?

"Impressive," he said at last, his voice carrying a faint note of surprise. "I don't know what you've done… but whatever it was, it's changed you. Mark my words—you'll have no trouble entering the Special Class with your current strength."

His words caught me off guard.

Special Class… already?

That had been my plan all along. The Special Class was where the story's main cast would gather, where alliances and rivalries would shape the course of everything to come. For a Ranker of his stature to say I had a real shot—it meant I wasn't just treading water anymore.

"Thank you, Sir." I allowed a small smile to touch my lips, careful to keep it measured. "I won't disappoint you."

He regarded me for a moment longer before leaning back slightly.

"And… about the skills. Is it possible for me to acquire one?"

His crimson eyes narrowed, scrutinizing me—not with suspicion, but as if weighing my request.

"It's possible," he said finally. "I'll have a butler bring you the list of skills currently in our possession. Don't expect anything beyond low to mid-tier, but even those should suffice at your level."

"Of course. Of course."

I nodded eagerly, feeling my pulse quicken. Even a low-tier skill will give me a massive edge right now.

"I'm leaving again tonight," he said, his tone shifting back to its usual cold precision. "Focus on preparing for the entrance exam. You've done well, Mika. Even without higher talent, you're proof that proficiency in other areas can take you far."

For a moment, a faint bitterness crept into my chest at his words. Even without higher talent. That phrase lingered like a faint stain.

"Yes, Sir. I'll take my leave now."

I stood and offered a polite bow, turning toward the door.

"Wait—Mika."

His voice stopped me mid-step.

"I don't know what you've done, and I won't question it. But as your father, I need to say this: don't lose yourself entirely in pursuit of strength. This path you've chosen is harsh. Fairness has no place in it… but even so, smile more."

There was a pause. His eyes softened—barely perceptible, but there.

"Don't copy me."

I turned my head slightly, caught off guard. Smile more? I had smiled. And copy him? Why would I?

"Yes… Sir."

I gave a final nod and stepped out of the room, shutting the door behind me.

He didn't notice.

He didn't even realize the son standing in front of him isn't his real son.

Yet something about his last words unsettled me. He didn't seem like a bad man. But as a father… I couldn't tell how he truly viewed his children. Was it concern? Or just duty wrapped in emotionless words?

I didn't linger in the hallway. The moment I reached my room, I shut the door softly and leaned against it, exhaling a slow breath.

That went… better than expected.

Darius hadn't noticed a thing. Either he truly didn't pay close attention to the old Mikael, or I had done a good enough job mimicking him. Still, his parting words echoed faintly in my mind. Smile more. Don't copy me.

Tch… weird man.

I shook off the thought and crossed to the bed, sinking onto the mattress. My body was still adjusting. Even now, I could feel faint sparks of power threading through my veins. The reformation had left me sharper, stronger… but also different.

I clenched my fists. Whatever he saw in me, I have to make full use of it. If I can get my hands on the right skill now, I'll have a real fighting chance in the Special Class.

Knock. Knock.

"Sir Mikael? The Guild Master instructed me to bring you the list of available skills."

"Enter."

The door opened, and an older butler stepped in. He carried a sleek black tablet with a faintly glowing screen. After a short bow, he handed it to me.

"These are the current skills in the family's archive. They are ranked from low-tier to mid-tier, as the Guild Master mentioned."

I nodded and accepted the device. As the butler quietly excused himself, I scanned the list.

---

[Skill Archive – Thornevale Family]

1. [Iron Veil] (Defensive – Low Rank)

Generates a thin mana barrier around the user's body. Can block low-level attacks and mitigate damage, but drains stamina rapidly during prolonged use.

2. [Phantom Step] (Movement – Mid Rank)

Allows the user to make a short burst movement, leaving behind an afterimage. Effective for dodging or repositioning in combat.

3. [Crimson Edge] (Offensive – Mid Rank)

Imbues weapon strikes with condensed mana, amplifying cutting power depending on the Affinity the skill varies on the power output.

4. [Mind's Eye] (Support – Mid Rank)

Heightens perception, allowing brief glimpses into enemy movement patterns and weak points. Requires high willpower to maintain focus.

5. [Predator's Instinct] (Passive – Mid Rank)

Enhances reflexes and combat intuition, granting the user an edge in close-quarters combat. However, prolonged activation may induce aggression.

---

I scrolled slowly through the list, weighing the options.

I can only choose one… maybe two if Darius is feeling generous.

[Crimson Edge] seemed tailor-made for my current affinity, but [Phantom Step] and [Mind's Eye] would give me versatility I desperately lacked.

I leaned back, staring at the glowing screen.

It's harder than I thought.