Year 911. Zancrest Dukedom.
Under the bright rays of his 9th summer in this wondrous world filled with living nightmares and dark manifestations of everything filthy, the young prodigy of the shadowed lotus— an unprecedented anomaly bearing the dignified ashen hair of heroes and the purple eyes of kings, gracefully swung a wooden sword in a dance of intrinsic magnificence that declared to this world the beginning of its shifted future.
One, two, five, twenty— an infantry of casualties fell onto the cold ground as his sword rose high to the heavens in a stage littered with dozens of his battered adversaries.
His sole silhouette— young, unassuming, immature— stood victorious with a poise belonging not to a mere child, but a warrior, a beast hidden beneath an innocent skin.
"Nice job, Lux!" Several voices cheered, tone adorned with adoration and awe.
"Unbelievable…"
An elderly man, eyes wide and jaws hanging agape, uttered in utter bewilderment. His towering physique slightly trembled, muscles bulging as his instincts took over his senses. Goosebumps, strands of his hair— slicked back, sharing the same gray shade as the child, draped over his forehead, sticking with sweat.
"That child… he did it."
The Duke Zancrest, [Louis Von Zancrest II]— a man renowned for being a fearsome warrior, stood speechless.
"See, Father?" Liam said with pride.
Beside the Duke was his other children— The heir, [Liam Von Zancrest], and the Shrift twins, Silk and Gill— who contrary to their father, carried an expression of genuine excitement witnessing their little brother's indomitable strength.
"Lux already possesses this much power this early in his life. It is quite saddening as his brother, but I've long since accepted the fact that he's already surpassed me at my peak."
Liam initiated a discussion, bragging and boasting— arms outstretched to frame his brother, whose very silhouette radiated excellence. There was no bitterness in his words, his tone exuded unfiltered joy, bordering on reverence.
A proud brother who has enough awareness to realize his brother's potential, and a broad perspective to not allow his hubris to hinder that flourishing bud.
Adorned in the official regalia of their clan— a pristine, ivory-white three-piece militaristic attire tailored elegantly with golden trimmings, and a matching half-cape worn on one's left shoulder. His long, frivolous hair, tied in a loose knot that draped over his right shoulder, fluttered in the air, each strand waving at the rhythm of the cool afternoon breeze.
"And soon, he'll overcome even you, Father." He declared, eyes brimming with confidence.
Liam slightly tilted his head, fingers brushing the hilt of the dagger in his waist. Golden earrings dangled from both sides, glinting with soft light as it hummed with a definite ring. Delicate and tranquil— the dignified proclamation of his blood and status as the next in line.
"Don't you agree that it would be a grave mistake to name me as your successor when there clearly is a more qualified candidate, overlooked simply for being born late?"
"But… that would mean that you, my firstborn, will lose your right to inheritance."
"I do not mind at all, Father."
Liam took a step back and gracefully bowed.
"All I ever desire is for our house to flourish, our people to prosper, our nation to rise even greater heights— one that would forever revolutionize this world." He proclaimed with a smile— passionate and brimming with optimism.
…cunning, too.
"And to realize that vision, our dear Lux is—"
"Please do not use me as an excuse to slack off."
A voice, young and slightly breathless, cut him off, leaving cold sweat dripping— a troubled expression in place of the mischievously scheming face he held before.
Liam turned towards the source, his confident inflection wavering ever-so-slightly.
Footsteps grew closer as the boy of the hour, the child who demolished an entire infantry of armed veterans with nothing but a wooden sword, marched to their side with not a single scratch or graze in sight.
He wiped the sweat off his forehead, a smile of composure twisting from his subtle lips as his warm gaze settled on his family.
"L-Lux, I'm simply stating the truth." The older brother said with a shifty gaze.
"The Zancrest house would prosper to unfathomably advanced degrees under your rule in a manner that it will reach under mine." He proclaimed dramatically.
"I… I have no idea what this slacking off you're referring to." He muttered to himself, scratching his chin.
"Oh, surely, you jest." Lux retorted, completely dismissive of his comment.
"That prosperity you speak of would expand exponentially if it were Brother Liam who holds the reins." He countered, flashing a knowing look— somehow resembling a viper on hunt.
"Like hell I'm gonna let you dump this on me"— it felt like his eyes were saying.
"Even if I am marginally superior in terms of strength in combat, Brother is far more adept in territorial management and bureaucracy— the most important skill for a Feudal Lord to have, don't you agree?" He added, humbly arguing.
"It is embarrassing to admit, but I would be, at best, a mediocre leader if I were to be chosen."
"Lux…" Liam muttered, astonishment and disbelief etched across his face.
"If you were to say that yourself… Then Father, who struggles to complete his already lessened tasks on time, would seem even less competent than a nine-year-old child."
"Yes! That's exactly the point!" Lux declared without hesitation.
"You are far more adept at handling political affairs than I am. You are an individual with great power, despite what you may say, and the achievements you've accumulated in your 17 years in this world more than justify your appointment to that position!"
Lux spoke like a bard reciting a legend. His tone, his gestures, magnified in a way to further romanticize his brother's tale.
"And most importantly of all— and frankly, in an astonishing miracle that no sages could explain— despite your insufferable, at times, downright deplorable attitude, you somehow remained beloved by our people."
Lux laid out his side of this pointless argument, his voice— vigorous with passion, carried both admiration and an unwavering conviction… though the last one didn't seem like a compliment.
"That is precisely why it would be a greater mistake for me to inherit the Duke's title!" He boldly proclaimed in front of the heir.
"We don't want a history of mediocrity to repeat itself, now do we?"
Lux finished with that obnoxious one-liner, however, Liam refused to relent his stance.
A venomous viper versus a relentless cobra.
The brothers continued their discussion like seasoned philosophers— each word returned with a sharp rebuttal, each point countered with a logical argument. They bickered with smiles on their faces, lost in their own world of verbal warfare, stood before their proud father as they meticulously, intricately, thoroughly dissected each and every flaw of the current system— leaving no stones unturned, all in order to raise the other's worth as the rightful successor.
However, this heartwarming (?) display of brotherly love, while intellectually stimulating for those who could actually understand the non-nonsensical jargon exiting their mouths, unintentionally delivered a crushing blow to their father's already fragile dignity.
Silently. In a dark corner of the barracks, the fearsome Duke seemed to have aged decades, fidgeting with his fingers like a child— crumbling, both figuratively and literally, under the weight of their words. His very presence seemed to be withering into dust with each passing second.
"Umm… Liam. Lux."
Silk's gentle voice rose above the tension, her concern evident as she stepped between them hesitantly.
Her hair draped over her shoulder, cascading to her hips in an unbroken stream of rich, golden threads. Clad in the same white uniform, her cape featuring frills rather than a smooth linen— she radiated an air of grace and sincerity.
"Maybe you two should leave it at that… the Lord Zancrest is already…"
Her silver eyes glinted with uncertainty, sneaking glances to both sides, unable to do anything as casualties began to pile.
"No… it's fine, Silk…"
The Duke's voice was barely above a whisper. His expression, one of absolute defeat.
"I'm just an incompetent lord anyway…"
Louis whimpered, shoulders exaggeratedly slumped like a wilted flower.
"I'm a numbskull. Just a piece of trash with muscles where my brain ought to be. A lumbering oaf who does nothing but force his responsibilities on his more capable subordinates…"
He stared longingly out the window, where the bland walls and a rather disinterested pigeon welcomed his self-deprecation.
"I should have known better than to speak out of turn, considering how utterly useless I am."
Silk was too late.
Irreparable damage has already been dealt.
"Forgive me for being this incompetent…"
"Ahh! No, please don't say that! That is not true in the slightest!" Silk protested in panic.
"All of us— the loyal servants of the Zancrest Dukedom, acknowledge that the Lord is trying his hardest in his own…unique way…"
Her voice cracked slightly.
Flustered, her hands flailing haphazardly as if trying to physically reconstruct the Duke's shattered dignity back together.
"It's just… uhh…"
She struggled, grasping desperately for the right words, eyes darting frantically in search of a hint.
"Come on… think… Oh! Yes, that's it!"
She exclaimed, reaching an enlightenment— a triumphant finger pointing skywards.
"It's just that things tend to go a lot smoother when you're not involved!"
She beamed, radiant and victorious. Every syllable rang, tolling the bells of sincerity— a hymn like the trumpets of angels. She spoke with such confidence, so absolute it felt as though she had just prophesied salvation.
"..."
The silence was deafening.
"Pfft…!" A snickering voice chimed in, tone laced with amusement.
"That wasn't exactly helpful."
Silk's twin sister, dressed in the black rendition of their formal attire watched the scene unfold with mild— no, profound entertainment.
{Author's Note: I'm also wearing the same.}
The golden child's kindness had backfired spectacularly.
Her attempt to console the already crippled Duke had instead dealt the devastating finishing blow. An act of brutal manslaughter that firmly nailed the coffin shut on his ravaged, desecrated, and thoroughly obliterated— self-esteem.
"Hahaha~ Don't be so down, Father." Liam added casually, gently caressing Louis' back.
"It's not like this is anything new, right?"
The bastard whispered coyly, eyes softened with warmth. His voice lacking of any malice, stating these words as if it were merely a matter of fact— twisting the proverbial knife even further.
"W-Well, that aside…" Silk chimed in, trying to somehow derail the conversation from this downward spiral.
"I also believe that Liam is the most qualified to be the next Duke."
Deciding to… help, quote on quote— her twin followed her lead.
"Agreed. Brother is a snob, but he is unexpectedly responsible with a sensible outlook."
Gill stepped forward, standing beside Silk.
Her posture was lax, almost indifferent, her voice smooth and calm like a toddler's giggles— a stark contrast to her uptight sister.
She wore her uniform loosely. A rebellion against the rules— missing a tie, her collars slightly crooked, and her buttons undone until the third one. Her silver hair, tinged faintly with black and gray at the tips, was tied in a loose sidetail draping over her shoulders, bound with a braided cord of silver and gold threads— a quiet symbol of their bonds and lineage.
"As frustrating as it is to say, he is a genius gifted with a natural ability to lead people." She said with a playful sigh.
"…or more like, brainwash them with that princely look of his." She mumbled under her breath.
"And also," She perked up, raising a finger.
"If not given a task to devote himself to, he would inevitably… and immediately head to the taverns to flirt with random women."
Gill's eyes narrowed like sharpened daggers, its pointed gaze locking with Liam's.
"…just like the other day."
Hands trembled.
Breaths hitched.
Eyes widened.
Gill casually dropped a nuke.
This innocently passing comment, five words of absolute doom, shifted the mood from a tense but friendly one into an atmosphere fragile like welded glass— where each word uttered could engrave one's death sentence.
Eyes gathered around her, then to the heir.
The silver gremlin slyly looked at her brother with sadistic eyes as if she was staring at some utterly disgusting filth, as she did not fail to mention this fact with a nonchalant, yet chilling tone. Her smile carried an innocence unfit for the crime she'd just committed. Her glowing amber eyes, smoldering like magma on the verge of erupting— unblinking, merciless, and frighteningly gleeful.
The very embodiment of karma itself, haunting him for his sins.
"Wha—!!! Gill! Don't say that in front of fat—"
"Ho-hohh~" came a deep, guttural chuckle.
"I believe it is my first time hearing this." The Duke cracked his knuckles.
"So when you ditched the meeting, saying you were out to gather valuable information… that was what you were doing."
The once-sloppy eyes of their aging father sharpened into a deathly glare. His lips curled into a smile, far too wide to be comforting. Large veins bulged in his wrinkly forehead, squirming like writhing serpents, mirrored in his rugged hands as slowly they balled into a fist, creaking with restrained fury in every twitch.
"...uhm… F-Father, that's umm… l-let me explain first— HMMPP!!!"
With a grip tighter than an adamantium vice, Liam's face was engulfed by his father's metallic palm. And before he knew it, they were out of the training grounds— with him dragged along like a sack of potatoes, flailing helplessly in his father's merciless grasp.
The last thing etched in his memory was a brief glimpse he got in between the slits of his father's mechanical fingers.
Those gritting fangs grinding with an unsettling crunch, bloodshot eyes glinting with primal horror— the infamous wrath of the gentle Duke once known across the battlefield as the [Ashen Ogre of the Iron fist].
A monster he once again, awakened.
The other three, along with the soldiers, collectively watched in silence as the white and gold streaks his clothes fluttered in the air, faded from their sight— unmoving, unfazed.
Not long after, a loud, glass-shattering scream echoed through the entire estate. Followed shortly by thunderous explosions and an eerie silence that told them of the unfortunate fate that befell the future Duke.
Without a word, Lux, Silk, Gill, and the soldiers brought their hands together in unison, closing their eyes in solemn prayer.
Wishing Liam— may he find peace wherever he may be now.
…
He's not dead, by the way.
"Lord Lux." One of the soldiers called.
"Thank you for humoring our request." He uttered in a deep raspy voice, eyes conveying genuine thoughts in his words.
"This crushing defeat of ours shall serve as undeniable proof to those arrogant fools in the council, and an appropriate goal for my men to strive for." He leaned slightly forward, a wide grin peeking behind his burly beard.
"Though I doubt it held much interest for someone of your caliber."
[Baal Dass]. The current captain-commander of the Besiegen kingdom's knight order.
A dark-skinned figure hulking thrice the height of Lux, bearing the girth of a hippo, limbs built like a giant ape, and a bloated belly that was just as massive as his frame. He possessed a prominent presence that commanded both admiration and fear— in more ways than one.
His armor heavy, reinforced, seasoned, and yet, it remained as one in the best condition— each crack and blemish in its gleaming silver surface a reminder of his exploits. Its overlapping parts clashed, clinking as he moved— the distinctive crimson cloak of the captain-commander draped over his shoulders, trailing behind his broad silhouette like a battle flag.
Despite his sheer bulk, added to the collective weight of his gear, which could've easily toppled a boar, he was deceptively agile— moved like a ranger with the body of a tank.
An inhuman feat befitting of the obsidian plate hanging around his neck.
Also, shockers— he's bald.
"No, I am the one who ought to be grateful." Lux replied, shaking his head.
"This challenge has been a great learning experience for me."
It truly is... You have no idea how much it did.
"Just having the opportunity to observe the movements— experience the refined skills of such strong opponents firsthand, I have been enlightened about many things during this mock battle. Thank you very much."
Lux's eyes glittered with gratitude, lowering his head in a display of his sincerity.
"And to be honest…" He paused, hesitant.
"I have underestimated your capabilities. Please, do forgive me for such disrespect."
"No, please raise your head, young master!" Baal scrambled, flailing his hands around the child gently like a gardener to a delicate flower.
"It is our utmost honor to be of any assistance for your grace!"
The fallen knights shouted, proclaiming in unison. They marched before the young lord, raising a salute before kneeling in reverence.
"Many of us have grown complacent with our skills! This defeat has been a great wake up call!"
Kufufu… go on, praise me more…
"You guys…" Baal muttered.
The captain-commander smiled, his beastly projection melted into a serene disposition like an elderly man at peace.
.
"Well then. It is regrettable, but it is time for us to depart for the capital."
Baal's gazed strode longingly at the beautiful land of this region. His breath long, deep— reminiscing, contemplating. The sound of clinking metal and heavy footsteps rumbled through the firm soil as the figures of the knights lined up, preparing to exit the estate gates.
"As for my earlier proposition, I hope you keep it in the back of your mind. Give it some serious thought." Baal uttered with a sense of certainty.
"We will be waiting for a positive response in six years time."
And with that, they departed.
"By the time you reach the age of maturity, we would like to recommend you as a candidate to be the next captain-commander"— huh…
Being nominated by the current head of the order himself, and having the actual feat of besting the royal knights in combat— albeit only mock. It would make my goal of being acknowledged by the higher-ups much easier to achieve.
Not that I have any interest in taking that position since the protag will soon take it, anyway…
Nonetheless…
Kuhuhu~ it went even better than I thought.
At first, I've speculated that it will take at least a decade of grueling training for me to access, let alone unlock my potential and utilize this body to the point that it was in the game. But as it turns out, seems like I'm even more of a prodigy than I gave myself credit for— having reached the pinnacle of [Luxion]'s established power in merely four years through constant torture.
Or rather… decades of valuable experience and rigorous trials, should I say?
Battling fearsome demons and abyssal horrors straight out of a hellish mythology. Subjugating reality's nightmares— titans of primordial calamities. Countless hours, days, decades drowned in blood, sweat, and tears.
And devastating failures that brought ruin to thousands upon thousands of lives.
I once lost my arm, devoured by a mutated basilisk born from a faraway dungeon. Another time, I was a dying orphan— molested, broken, forged to be a merciless gladiator forever fighting in the pits of hell.
I acquired swordsmanship— from crude tactics to refined blades. I was engulfed in magical constructs, bathed in the sensation of an ancient sage's boundless mana. I have traced the feral instincts of ferocious beasts— bared fangs and talons instead of feet and fingers.
Even the upbringing of a proud king and the genius of a warlord.
That is what built the foundations of this might.
The peerless sovereign.
The omniscient prophet.
The indomitable warrior.
And the wicked worldview of a rotten trash.
All of them, echo within me.
A whisper in the unwavering thread.
A shadow beneath the unfaltering light.
A harbinger. A messenger. An incarnation.
I possess all these memories within me— contradicting, resonating… maddening.
I am an abomination born of their shattered fragments. The vessel of wisdom, and dreams long perished… perhaps an insignificant parasite or maybe, the wielder of fate itself?
With this gift, I am…
"Invincible."
"Hm, Lux?"
The wide silver eyes of my dear sister, Silk, adorably peered from my side. A look, unbearably innocent and curious, asking for clarification like a toddler first learning about the world.
"What's invisible?"
"Eh!? Ah, no, I was just thinking about how their strengths are… uhh… visible just from the way they carry themselves." Lux stuttered.
"I want to strive for that… or something?"
"Is… that so?" Silk slightly tilted her head, placing a finger on her chin.
"I'm not sure I fully understand what that meant, but if Lux says so, then I suppose the knights lives up to their reputation."
Silk smile brightly— saintly, one might even say.
How embarrassing!!!
I let my inner monologue slip out like an edgy teenager again! Kuhhh…! She doesn't seem to have heard the most cringy parts, but still... Argggggggggggggghhhhhh~~~!!!
"Y-Yes, they were truly formidable fighters." Lux started to yap, trying to cover his mistake.
"Had I made even one mistake in my judgment, I'm sure it wouldn't have been me who is standing victorious right now."
"I see. But you won, haven't you? That is amazing." Silk continued to glaze him up.
A short pause. Awkward silence.
"N-Now, it's starting to grow cold. Let's go back inside, shall we?"
As the gates shut closed, the children of the Dukedom returned to the manor, reinvigorated with fiery dedication to better themselves for the future of their nation~ Happily ever after.
Fwoo~ I should be more careful with my words—
Blurred and faint, yet vivid and conscious— a horned silhouette hidden beneath a crimson veil.
Something familiar. Something attached. Someone veiled in a shifting mist— neither ethereal nor arcane. Something else. Something more fundamental… something soulbound, intricately woven under a curtain of obstruction.
An integral piece of the grand design— misplaced by the false Gods.
A sensation crawled up my spine, pulsating in my veins— an icy whisper that seeped into my very bones like a phantom's touch. It came from afar, beyond the dreadful peaks of the southern border. Mobile. Constant… Closer and faster.
A lingering trace of mana, familiar to my senses, yet not to my mind.
No, not just that.
Even now, I can feel it—
An unmistakable demonic trait.
Yet, this presence. It's different.
Smaller. Weaker. A child, seemingly.
A demon in a human country is nothing but trouble. However, at this scale, there should be no issue leaving it to the knights.
But… this fluctuating energy—
It's resonating with mine.
Hmm, curious… I'll have to investigate that thing later.
It might just be the missing piece in my equation.
[Soul Archive]
The awakened ability of a hero— a curse bestowed upon one of the main pillars of ToA.
A singular anomaly— the root of all that follows.
A unique skill forged in the bloodied image of the unholy serpent, the very [First Sin]. An opportunistic beast— foul, profane, vile and utterly odious. Whispers, both tender and malicious, gnawing at the very foundation of morality's conscience.
A skill— simple and straightforward, born of the corrupt, honed not through trials, but the warping of the world's searing abyss.
Inexorably wrong, and yet, unfathomably broken.
Glutton.
A trait of the Devourer.
Consume, feast upon people's memories, assimilating it to oneself— consuming their skills, twisting their wisdom, swallowing their techniques and instinct. Pillaging even their personality, ideals and virtuous anchors.
Strip their soul of their essence, siphon every bit that made them into the archives of the beast.
A blasphemous transgression resulting in an utterly world-breaking singularity, constantly evolving with each fragment— claiming the unblemished potential to unravel legends, defile saints, and blossom into the realm beyond godhood with nothing but… a mere touch.
…Or so it was intimately explained in the lore of that game. But it's a bit— no, a whole lot more inconvenient than advertised.
I feel scammed.
If I were to describe it in dweeb-man terms, I'd say it works more like Plunder (akasotO uuY) combined with a self-inflicted (Tsukuyomi) with a not-so-slight (Kotoamatsukami)— whose intensity depends on the user's mental capacity.
Worst case scenario, they'll lose themselves and go batshit crazy.
It is unfortunately, not much of an (All for One) type of cheat as the user have no control whatsoever over the assimilation process.
I'm a bootleg [Rise Kyota], basically.
As soon as it activates, the Archive implants my consciousness inside their memories, reliving every single step they went through.
From their birth to the present.
All their emotions, trauma, and trials.
Everything that makes them themselves, I am required to experience myself.
It's one of those horrible deal package where I feel like I'm talking to one of those completionist asshats— always yapping about not skipping even one cutscene.
If I am interested in their expertise in cooking, I need to experience their sad backstory!
How many times they peed themselves in their sleep. How they're once vegan that ate monster meat and said it doesn't count. Their bittersweet first crush and how they got friend-zoned for their best friend. Their disgusting sexual preferences, and experiences with inter-species **********—
Every single fucking detail of their miserable lives!
I just want their bloody skills, damn it!!!
I have received enough emotional damage already that I thought I went with the [Greed If] route.
I have, in essence, lived through at least a hundred years' worth of experience through the eyes of others— a myriad of differing philosophies, endless struggle, devastating loses, and the sweet, sweet taste of eventual triumph.
I've only archived living people, so I don't know what will happen if I use it on a corpse.
Those strongly distinct personalities, drastic and some extremist mindscapes each permeating through mine in a muddied pot of unstirred chaos— just waiting to explode.
And as one would expect of such reality warping ability, it comes with a hefty price.
These experiences— [Fractals] as I call them— are not limited only to mental recollections. Instinctual habits, muscle memory, and all notions of physical exertion is also translated— in a fucking instant.
Your mind matures, but not your body.
After going through decades of fractals in the span of a split second, these impulses are injected into my body all at once. This harsh recoil caused by abruptly exiting the spatial trance of a bounded illusion is fatal to one's life, especially for a child's body.
It's like an all-you-can-eat buffet, but you have to swallow everything at once.
{Author's Note: This is why you read the fine print.}
I, for one, was bedridden for a whole month the first time I awakened it— And that was against my younger brother, who's three years apart.
Just imagine what that strain was like when I, jokingly, used it on my father who had essentially lived his life on death's doorstep, being a mainstay figure in every battlefield.
"Is this too much exposition?" The young lunatic pondered upon his writing.
"Hmm… I thought I'll dedicate a paragraph or two exaggerating the details of my ability, but I've already filled two whole pages talking about it, and it still only covers the general function."
Luxion sat still, restless. He gently sways his head, balancing a quill at the bridge of his nose.
"Uhhh~ an info dump this early in the story is too boring, isn't it?" He mumbled, brows furrowing.
"I certainly wouldn't want to read this long-ass exposition if I am to be the reader."
Lit by the luminescent aurora of the translucent amber lanterns tracing the architectural ridges of the room's ceiling, the young prince leaned back on his chair as he stared skyward, pondering how to compose the prologue of his diary-turned-biography novel.
"Acquiring these fractals, however, does not guarantee being able— the ability to— a complete— damn it, grammar!"
Frustrated, Luxion crossed out the whole sentence.
"It does not guarantee successful replication of their skills and talent as the physical vessel is still required to possess the necessary attributes that the original owner exhibits." He wrote with finesse, finally finding his groove.
"Which means that so long as I do, I can steal any and all that this world has to offer."
He lifted his pen, surprise stretching in his expression. Even he was surprised by how smooth that final push went.
"Yep, that should be good enough for now. I'll sneak in the other details as the story progresses."
Luxion carefully closed the journal, clipping a crimson bookmark imbued with the word— [Raven], attached with a feather adorned with the vibrant colors of the eternal flame.
"Hahhh~ I'm spent…!"
Luxion lay down, his thoughts running around in circles as his eyes felt heavier by the second.
"I fooled around with that mock battle too much. Should've finished it more quickly. But then again… I can't afford to just one-shot them because they might label me as a threat and make me a subjugation target instead."
He buried his face in his pillow— soft, warm, comfortable. A luxury he made sure not to take for granted ever since he came to this world.
"I guess, I'll… just sleep it off."
It was late at night. The mystical trail of the crescent moon was already past halfway in its path. Outside, there were faint rustling, likely from the maids and servants of the house whose days start and end while darkness still looms over their insignificant heads.
As for the future overlord?
It was time for the nap, his yet to be developed vessel necessitates.
Staying up late at night immersed in fantasies— a true symbol of the Neet that he truly is.
Donning a goofy [Brock Knee] eye mask, he lies flat on his belly, permeating to the mattress of his fluffy bed like melted ice cream— sinking deeper into slumber.
{Author's Note: Haha! Get it? Brock, like "broken". Cuz Haara crippled him in the Chuunin exam and haven't been relevant ever since—}
It's just a joke, please don't cancel me.
{Author's Note: Being politically correct is difficult.}
"Lazy breathing… 11th form… Dead fish—"
"Big Brother!"
A loud voice exploded, simultaneous to his door being busted open like it was the FBI hunting down a pedophile.
[Lenard Von Zancrest].
The third son of the Zancrest Dukedom, destined to be one of the most brilliant minds in this world, and eventually, the next Duke himself— if events proceed as the game dictates it to.
He bears a striking resemblance to Lux in appearance, so much so that they are often mistaken as clones of each other by outsiders. Though, his personality developed to hold traits more similar to Liam's frivolous, carefree, and slyly charming demeanor.
That is how it was supposed to be, but…
"Please train with me today!"
Wooden swords in hand, he approached his brother's bedside with an enthusiastic smile, awaiting a positive response.
His eyes glinted with overflowing excitement, his adorable humming brimming with endless energy equal to a loyal dog playing with its owner. His posture showed no signs of lethargy despite the ungodly hour. Not a single indication of dread and drag in his exaggerated movements.
He is disciplined and motivated— not a hint of that projected persona in sight.
…Let me sleep, you little shit.
"I have been working really hard, diligently practicing the things brother taught me before the training camp! I even managed to match a knight trainee in a mock combat! And I actually finished ahead of everyone else in my batch— second only to your historical record that was enshrined magnificently in their institution!" Lenard proudly reported, voice demanding of a headpat.
"So please, praise… me— hmm? Brother?"
Lenard tilted his head.
Then, as though enlightened by an angel's prophecy, he eagerly flipped the thick white blanket of the queen-size bed, expecting to see his brother resting beneath— only to discover that it was already empty.
"Hng!? Brother!? Where did you go!?"
His purple eyes darted around the room like a frantic cue ball, before launching a full-blown search like a military dog sniffing crack.
He checked under the bed— nothing.
Toilet— nothing. Outside— nothing.
He searched through every nook of the walk-in wardrobe, beneath Lux's working desk, inside the flower vase by the window, between the cracks on the wall, even on the ceiling and under the carpets— just in case his brother had somehow mastered an advanced form of hide and seek, and is playing a prank on him.
Nothing.
Not a single trace of him, save for dust and spider webs clinging to the corners.
"Achoo~!" He sniffled, rubbing his irritated nose.
Then, as if struck again by divine revelation, his expression brightened.
"Ah! I see how it is!" He exclaimed.
"Brother must have already left to train! Yes, that must be it! As expected of my outstanding brother! Please wait for me! I'll catch up to you soon!"
With renewed determination, Lenard dashed out of the room, leaving behind what could only be described as the aftermath of a miniature hurricane.
What a weird one, that child is— Gah! Close the door when you leave, goddammit!
Lying peacefully in bed was Luxion, who was gradually fading into deep slumber, having deactivated the invisibility spell he instinctively casted on himself.
Why is he like this…?
He was supposed to be a more serious character. What in the world happened to that twerp for him to be this rowdy— yawn~!
I'm… really sleepy...
Luxion snuggled into his pillow, firing a wind bullet to shut the door close as he curled into a ball, wrapping all of his 143-centimeter body in the consuming warmth of his mint green, Gight Mai 100% wool blanket.
{Author's Note: The white blanket is also an illusion.}
And as he snored for the first time that day, the morning sun rose from its sleep— while he fell into one.
"Good night… Blanche." escaped a drowsy whisper.
"[Trance]."
"I've finally found you, Big brother!"
A high-pitch war cry, vigorous and determined, erupted from a shaking bush. It echoed through marble pillars and concrete walls as the ashen head of its source poked out from the leaves.
"Prepare yourself!"
A child leaped out of said foliage, arms raised high to the clouds like a beacon connecting the earth and heaven. The shadowed vignette of the wooden sword nestled in his tiny hands briefly blurred by the blinding rays of the sun, creating an invisible strike, however short it may be.
"HYAAAAA— eh...?"
Midair. Midshout. Midmotion. He faltered, expression twisting into bewilderment.
To his utter shock, the open back of his brother, whom he'd been quietly targeting, suddenly vanished into thin air, fading into a blurred haze… replaced by the smiling figure of Silk, who, mere moments ago, was standing beside Lux.
It was he who was blinded.
Ambushed by unseen hands.
"What just— WAHHH!"
Before he could react, Lenard's world rolled upside down, hands hanging below his head, feet swept clean off the ground.
He blinked and finally realized.
His brother's left arm, only slightly more toned than his, wrapped loosely around his waist, confiscating the wooden sword as Lenard was restrained without much effort— carried like a spoil of a hunt.
Then, he noticed.
His right arm… It was injured, covered in sullied bandages that still seemed fresh.
"Not bad. But, it's a hundred years too soon for you to land a hit on me, young man!" Lux playfully teases, tone carrying a slightly condescending chuckle.
"Also, if you're launching a sneak attack, do it quietly, or there's no point in you being stealthy."
Lux gently put him down, dusting him off.
"I couldn't see your movements at all…" The child mumbled, fidgeting with his fingers.
His shoulders slumped, hands trembling, falling silent as his downcast gaze began to blur— glittery as quiet sobs escaped his lips.
"Ah…" Both his siblings thought.
Was that too much—
"Amazing! Truly brilliant, Big brother!"
Lenard flared up like a rejuvenated phoenix. He shivered at the overwhelming presence of his genius brother. He was silent because he was trying to compose himself. He shed tears, not of frustration or consuming envy, but of awe and utter astonishment.
"I swear on the name of our ancestors to dedicate myself more to training! And strive to be just like father and my dear brothers!" He declared, much too enthusiastically for this time of the day.
"And as such, please teach me how to do it!"
Lenard straightened his posture. A hand on the chest, the other on his back— he gracefully bowed. Though his knees were shaking, a clumsy sign of his inexperience in this formal setting.
"Ah, hello there, Silk." Lenard casually greeted.
"Were you able to follow brother's movements?"
Silk simply smiled. "No. Not at all."
.
"Pushing yourself to new heights is admirable, but promise me not to overwork yourself, okay?"
"Yes, Big Brother!" An instant answer.
"[Rest is just as important as the training itself] and [Moderation is the key to a strong consistent foundation]— I still clearly remember every single one of your teachings!"
"Yes, that's good to hear."
Lux placed a hand on Lenard's head, gently running his fingers through his brother's soft hair.
"You can join me in my training tomorrow. So for now, join us for a little while."
"Hm? Is something happening?"
"Yes, Mother is preparing some pudding in the kitchen. Let's eat it together."
Lenard's eyes practically glowed, vibrant pupils glimmering like the hymn of distant stars coalescing in two orbs of pure innocence.
"Pudding! I love it!!!"
The ecstatic child repeatedly chanted.
His beaming smile grew wider and wider as he was draped on Lux's shoulders.
To be continued...