For the first time, the conversation began not with greetings or subtle glances—but with a question that struck like a blade.
"You've made no progress… You're still at the same level as before.
I don't believe it's a matter of understanding the techniques.
So tell me… what's holding you back?"
She paused mid-bite.
A soft, sorrowful expression crossed her face—disguised by a fragile smile, like someone remembering something they wished they'd forgotten.
"I can't go beyond this point.
Perhaps you don't know, but I was once on the verge of becoming a Sword Master… and halfway through the fourth level of the Bloodshadow Inheritance.
But the price of fleeing the family… was my power.
A punishment for my sins."
He said nothing.
But deep inside, something twisted.
Rage. Not for himself… but for her.
That alone… made her a weakness.
It felt as if the faceless enemy from the past had returned—
Not with weapons, but with whispers.
Not with chains, but with guilt.
He looked at her again—
She was smiling.
"Why are you smiling?" he asked coldly.
She replied with unshaken warmth:
"Because someone is angry… for my sake."
He tried to deny it.
But the familiar voice of the Ruler interrupted, amused:
"Lying doesn't suit you, my king.
But perhaps… there is a solution to her problem.
One that may benefit you, too.
After all, family is a strength that runs deeper than blood."
A long silence followed.
Then Isaac spoke, voice low and precise:
"Tell me."
Suddenly, a strange, hazy vision filled his mind.
A memory that didn't feel like his, and yet… somehow did.
He saw a masked figure.
Only the eyes were visible—bright, piercing blue.
He was using magic.
Unfamiliar… and yet hauntingly familiar.
Isaac had never learned magic.
His new family never practiced it.
"Why does it feel like I've seen this before…?
As if this memory… was sealed away."
The Ruler's voice returned, quieter now:
"This is my memory.
What you're seeing is a high-tier healing spell.
But you are too weak to handle it… if you try, your body will collapse.
Still, the choice is yours."
…
He returned to consciousness, opening his eyes slowly… as if the light itself disturbed him after a long, dreamless sleep.
The aura around him was still — but within that stillness pulsed a quiet control.
No chaos. No tremble. Only silent command.
She broke the silence, her voice soft and hesitant, her eyes widening in genuine surprise:
— "You… opened your eyes?
Can you feel anything
He stood slowly.
"No need to worry. I can control it…
But more importantly… I think I can help you."
Her eyes widened. Hope rushed through her voice:
"If you're the one saying that… then maybe it's possible.
The family forbade me from using any means. Even the Church turned its back.
But if I can heal myself… they'll have no right to interfere."
He turned to Lara.
"We're going to the training hall.
Make sure no one is watching."
…
She followed him into the hall.
Hope trailed behind her, fear beside it.
In her mind, a silent wish:
"I don't care about the outcome…
I just want him to never feel defeated.
I want pride to always be his shadow."
He stood before her.
Calm. Commanding.
"Kneel."
She obeyed without hesitation.
For a moment, he looked into her face—not as a student, not as a mother—
but as a woman of terrifying beauty.
She looked like the flowers he once tended to in his garden.
He placed his hand gently atop her head.
Blue energy began to flow.
Pure mana channeled from his eyes to her core.
They met each other's gaze.
Blood-red eyes filled with doubt…
and hope.
The energy intensified. He whispered:
"Blessing of Life."
Mana surged into her body.
Her skin trembled.
He said calmly:
"You can scream."
She smiled through the pain.
"Anything from you… brings joy, not pain, my dear."
…
But his body… was breaking.
The strain was too much.
His vision blurred.
His cells burned like coal. His eyes… began to bleed.
Still… he pushed further.
She cried, tried to break free.
Screamed his name again and again.
But he held on.
Then… it returned.
That voice.
"You were given a second chance… and this is how you waste it?"
His rage exploded.
He bit his lip until it bled, clawed at his chest,
and roared his power into his own veins.
Kraye collapsed from the shock.
He staggered, barely conscious, mind fading.
The Ruler spoke again, with finality:
"You may rest now."
He fell.
And as his head struck the floor,
he caught a final glimpse of her face—
Her tears… still falling.
He whispered faintly:
"I truly… don't understand that woman.