As Evan and Mara walked slowly through the grand halls of the Valencrest estate, Mara's hand gently supporting him, a sharp voice cut through the calm.
"Move out of my way!" barked a confident woman, her posture proud and cocky. She was well-dressed, her expensive garments and sharp eyes marking her as a high-ranking member of the House Valencrest.
Mara stepped protectively in front of Evan.
"Please, step aside," Mara said calmly.
The woman sneered, turning to Mara with disdain. "Even as one of the patriarch's women, how dare you block my way with your good-for-nothing son!"
Evan's eyes widened. He was about to speak up in defense when suddenly—
Thwack!
A wooden sword struck him sharply across the back.
Then, a second twin child giggled and gave him a playful smack on the arm.
Mara gasped, shouting their names, "Lyria! Lysandria! What are you doing?"
She hurried forward to stop them, but before she could, their mother appeared—a tall, regal woman with an icy glare.
Without hesitation, she slapped Mara's hand away.
"Don't interfere," she snapped coldly. "This is how they'll teach him his place."
Evan's curiosity peaked. Why are they treating me like this? What's going on?
Suddenly, a calm, clear voice echoed inside his mind.
System Voice:
"Evan, listen carefully. You've entered a complex world of noble hierarchy and pride. The twins—Lyria and Lysandria—are daughters of a powerful faction within House Valencrest. They see you, a frail child recently taken in, as weak and unworthy."
"Their mother is teaching them to assert dominance early—part of noble upbringing where strength and social power matter deeply. Physical discipline here is more about tradition and testing than outright cruelty."
"Your mother, Mara, is protective but powerless against higher-ranking members who enforce these rules. This is a political game as much as a family matter."
"You must stay strong, learn quickly, and earn your place. Your body is still weak but growing. Use this time to prepare—your swordsmanship will prove your worth beyond noble titles."
Evan blinked, startled by the sudden appearance of an interface floating before his eyes—a translucent panel filled with glowing symbols and options.
"W-Who are you?" he thought, his mind racing.
A soft, playful voice echoed inside his head.
"You can call me Piko," the voice said cheerfully. "I'm your system, here to nurture you to your fullest potential."
The interface shimmered as she continued.
"I'll guide you, teach you, and even give you quests—so you won't get bored while you grow stronger."
"S...trong...er..."
The word slipped from Evan's lips as he drifted into sleep. The pain in his small body was dulled by exhaustion, but the fire in his chest—a desire to change, to protect—had only just begun to burn.
---
The Next Morning
Sunlight crept through the tall, arched windows of the Valencrest estate. Their room, tucked in the far eastern wing of the manor, was modest compared to the grandeur of the rest of the house—furnished with only the bare essentials: a small bed, a wooden dresser, and a single armchair where Mara often sat.
Evan stirred beneath the covers. His limbs still ached, but he could move more easily than yesterday.
He turned his head—and froze.
Mara was sitting at the edge of the bed, her face downcast. A dark bruise marred the corner of her lip. A faint red mark stretched across her cheek.
"...Mother?" he asked softly, his voice still hoarse.
She looked up, forcing a smile. "Good morning, Evan."
But her eyes said otherwise.
Piko's voice echoed gently in his mind.
"This is what happens when those with no power try to resist those above them."
"You see now, Evan? Strength isn't just for pride. It's for protection."
Suddenly, a deep clang rang through the eastern wing—like a ceremonial gong struck with precision. The air itself seemed to tense.
Then came the booming voice of a herald:
"The Patriarch approaches!"
Heavy footsteps followed, echoing with discipline and strength.
The door to the room opened.
A man stepped inside.
Lord Alaric Valencrest. Towering, broad-shouldered, and dressed in a sleek dark coat lined with silver patterns that shimmered like lightning, his presence dominated the room. His black hair, streaked with iron-gray, framed a sharp, unreadable face—eyes as cold and cutting as a blade.
Mara, her body tensing, gently guided Evan down to one knee beside her.
"Glory to the Patriarch, Lord Alaric," she said respectfully.
Evan copied her, lowering his gaze. "Glory to the Patriarch."
Then Piko's voice suddenly rang on his thoughts.
"That's your father, Evan. Lord Alaric Valencrest. The current Patriarch of the House and one of the most feared swordmasters in the kingdom."
"Unlike other noble houses that cling to old traditions, your father did the opposite. He's changed and evolved sword styles over generations—combining raw talent, military tactics, and brutal real-world experience to create a constantly evolving legacy."
"He took multiple wives across political alliances, but few of his children earned his recognition. He values potential and strength above all else. If he's here… he might be testing you."
Lord Alaric's boots clicked sharply against the stone floor as he stepped deeper into the modest room. Without a word, he knelt in front of Mara.
He gently lifted her chin with a gloved hand, tilting her face toward the light.
His eyes narrowed. Cold. Controlled. But something simmered beneath.
"Who did this to you?" he asked, his voice deep and heavy—each word laced with the authority of a ruler and the fury of a possessive man. "Tell me, Mara."
Mara trembled slightly, her eyes avoiding his gaze. "It's… nothing, Patriarch," she said softly.
His expression darkened.
"You know I already know who did it. If you give me your word, I can strip her of her title."
His voice was calm—but it felt like lightning held just beneath his skin.
"The rules are clear. Wives of the House do not strike one another. Only their children are allowed to resolve their conflicts."
His gaze turned sharply toward Evan—piercing, suffocating. The pressure in the room shifted like gravity itself had thickened.
Evan flinched. His young body froze, every instinct screaming to kneel deeper or disappear entirely.
Mara quickly stepped in, bowing low.
"Please… stop, Patriarch. He's just a child." Her voice was desperate. "Please."
Lord Alaric held her gaze for a long, quiet second.
Then, with a sharp exhale through his nose, he released her chin and stood.
He turned toward the door, his steps echoing again.
Before he crossed the threshold, his voice came low—crushing and final:
"You disappoint me, child."
A pause.
"Not just me… even your mother."
And then, without another word, he vanished beyond the door.
As the door shut behind Lord Alaric, silence returned to the room—heavy and suffocating.
Evan stood still, fists clenched tightly at his sides. His small frame trembled, not from fear… but from frustration. His eyes, usually wide and curious, had narrowed into something sharper—more focused.
"Mother…" he said quietly, his tone far too serious for a boy his age.
"I'm sorry… if I disappointed you."
Mara's eyes widened.
"What? No—Evan!" she cried, rushing forward.
She pulled him into a tight embrace, holding his small body against her chest as tears slipped silently down her cheeks.
"You didn't disappoint me, not for a second." Her voice cracked. "You protected me… you stood up for me. That alone makes you stronger than any noble child here."
Evan blinked, slowly raising his arms to return the hug. His tiny fists slowly unclenched.
Then, a soft voice echoed in his mind—gentle, teasing, and oddly comforting.
"Wow… That was pretty cool, Evan."
"I've been watching everything, y'know. You didn't back down even when you were scared. Not bad for your first day in this new life."
"You've got guts. And heart."
"You're going to need both if you want to become the strongest swordsman."
Evan's eyes slightly widened. That voice again… Piko.
She continued, cheerfully,
"Just so you know, I'm here with you now. Not just to talk—I'll be guiding you, teaching you, helping you grow."
"We've got a long road ahead. But don't worry, you won't walk it alone."
Mara gently pulled back, cupping Evan's cheeks.
"Don't let what your father said crush you, alright? He sees the world through blades and battles. But me…? I see you."
She smiled through her tears.
"You're my son, Evan Valencrest. And I'm proud of you."
Evan's thoughts were interrupted by a clear, firm voice inside his head.
[Piko Notification]
"Go to the Valencrest Forest and perform 50 sword swings.
Reward: Basic Swordsman Skill."
His eyes widened in surprise. A skill?
He turned to his mother. "Mother, I'm going outside for a while. I'm going to practice sword swings."
Mara looked up from her work, a curious expression on her face. "Sword swings? Since when did you become interested in swordsmanship all of a sudden?"
Evan shrugged, feeling a little unsure but determined. "I… just want to get better. I think I can do it."
Mara smiled gently, though still concerned. "Alright, but be sure to come back before lunch. And tell me if you need anything."
"Yes, I will!" Evan said eagerly.
He grabbed a wooden training sword leaning against the wall, then ran outside toward the Valencrest Forest.
---
Piko's voice guided him as he walked.
"The Valencrest Forest is nearby. It's a calm and safe place—no monsters or dangers here. Just quiet woods and old training grounds where your family's swordsmen have practiced for generations. It's perfect for your first steps."
Evan reached the entrance, a simple archway made of intertwined branches. The forest was peaceful; sunlight filtered softly through the leaves, and a gentle breeze rustled the trees.
No threats lurked here. Just the forest, the air, and his sword.
Evan stepped beneath the archway and into the quiet embrace of the Valencrest Forest. The gentle rustling of leaves and soft sunlight filtering through the branches wrapped around him like a calm shield.
I will protect Mother, he thought firmly, tightening his grip on the wooden sword.
I will give her a happy life…
His eyes hardened with resolve.
And we will dominate them all.
Not a word. It's a promise.
As Evan walked deeper into the Valencrest Forest, he stopped in a small clearing and stretched his arms and legs, loosening his muscles.
He raised his wooden sword into a basic stance. His first swings were awkward—heavy and unsteady—but he kept going, focusing on improving with every movement.
Twenty-seven minutes passed.
"Thirty-eight… Thirty-nine… Forty."
His arms ached, but he pressed on, determined.
"Forty-one… Forty-two… Forty-three…"
Each swing felt a little lighter, more natural.
"Forty-eight… Forty-nine… Fifty."
He lowered the sword, breathing heavily.
Suddenly, a clear voice echoed in his mind.
[Piko Notification]
"Quest Completed: 50 Sword Swings."
Reward: Basic Swordsman Skill unlocked."