Orion couldn't rid himself of the ideas churning in his head as he entered the spacious hall of their mansion. The soft light of golden chandeliers lit the room, painting a warm brightness on the refined furniture and intricately woven rugs. Within, Celia, Sera, and Elara sat in unison, their conversation interrupted as their eyes turned toward him.
Celia's blue eyes relaxed. "Did everything go well?"
Orion nodded, going over to an empty couch and stretching somewhat.
Sera cocked her head. "What did you and your dad discuss?"
He provided a quick recap—his anticipated enrolment in a magic academy, his father's orders concerning his brothers, and the soon-to-be-arrived guests. The moment he said that his father granted permission for Elara to go to an academy too, movement streaked past him.
"Really?" Elara had leaped out of her chair, her face lighting up with enthusiasm like a ray of sunshine piercing through a tempest. She rapidly scooted over to Orion, her arm tightening around his with shining blue eyes. "Brother Orion! Is it so?" she asked, shaking with anticipation. "Did Father actually say that I can go to a Magic Academy too?"
Orion looked at her before he smiled. "Yes, he did."
Elara squealed in delight, bobbing up and down. "That's fantastic! I'll train even more so we can be powerful together!"
Her enthusiasm was contagious. Even Sera smiled, putting her chin on her hand. "That's good. Now, you both have something to work towards." She grinned mockingly. "Just don't forget to guard your old mothers when you two become powerful."
Orion rolled his head back and forth, laughing. "You're not old, Mother Sera."
Sera gave a victorious smile to Celia. "See? My son still knows how to compliment me."
Celia's soft laugh filled the room.
Elara, on the other hand, beat her chest theatrically. "No need to worry! I'll get strong enough to defend the two of you and Brother Orion!"
The room burst into laughter at Elara's theatrics.
Celia, still beaming, extended her hand and softly stroked Orion's hair. "Son… you have no idea how proud I am of you," she whispered.
Sera and Elara regarded him with smiles in their eyes. Orion, for an instant, just sat there, drinking in their affection. Regardless of how aloof his father was or how curt his brothers had been, this—this love—was what counted.
He slightly clenched his fists. I will grow strong—not for them, but for myself and those who love me.
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After lunch, Orion headed to the garden—the site where he always trained. The air was fresh, with the smell of soil and flowers that were in bloom.
In the middle of the yard, there stood an ancient oak tree, its branches reaching towards the sky like the arms of a wise guardian. Under its shadow, Orion sat in a meditative position, his back straight and hands on his knees.
Next to him was a good, if unexceptional, sword.
He sat down into a meditative position under the tree, his back straight, legs folded, and hands lightly placed on his knees. He closed his eyes and slowed his breathing, focusing himself on the flow of mana in the air.
Mana—the blood of cultivation—was an intangible power, but Orion sensed it as distinctly as the wind against his skin. It swirled about him, whispering through the leaves, seeping into the earth, drifting in the very air he breathed.
He concentrated, calling the mana to him. It oozed into him, filtering through his energy points along his flesh before making its way into his meridians—those frail yet crucial lines in his body.
The meridians… the key to all cultivation.
A cultivator without meridians was like a river without a path, unable to direct its flow. These intangible pathways defined how well one could absorb, refine, and use mana. Without them, cultivation was impossible.
Orion's breathing regulated as he flowed the mana energy through his body. Each loop fortified his foundation, his sense of connection to the world around him becoming sharper. The flow was steady, controlled.
Minutes ticked by. Then hours.
When he finally opened his eyes, a drawn-out breath escaped his lips, a wisp of misty mana dispersing into the air.
He gripped his fists.
If I keep going like this, I'll be at the second star soon… and before entering the Academy, I should be able to reach the seventh or even eighth star of the Novice level.
The Academy's lowest requirement was the fourth star of Novice. To most, it was easy to break through the initial stages, but after the Novice level, the cultivation path became challenging. The advancement to the Apprentice stage was a genuine step into the world of the powerful.
That's when the real fight starts.
Orion sighed, allowing his mind to settle. His eyes wandered towards the sword resting next to him. Hefting it in his hand, he stroked the blade with a familiar touch. But though it was fairly well-made, it was nothing to what he had previously carried.
The Lunar Fang.
A sigh slipped from him, his face becoming distant.
"In my previous life… you never once let me down."
His family's most valuable treasure was the Lunar Fang—a sword forged with celestial steel, its edge aglow with silver light. And its other, the Solar Fang, was possessed by Shia's family.
They were forged with the same fabled metal, equally mighty, equally held sacred. Yet destiny had favored them as the lone bearers of their respective lines who could free their true powers.
His father had told him the tale once. The Solar Fang and Lunar Fang were forged from the same metal, their histories as linked as destiny itself. In his previous life, only he himself had been capable of using Lunar Fang, only Shia capable of using Solar Fang. A harmony of perfection—just as their fates had once been as one.
A faraway glaze shaded his eyes.
What became of you, my dear sword? Were you, as I, wiped from existence?
The wind took his words into the stillness of the garden.
Then Orion shook his head, dispelling the thoughts. The past would not be altered by dwelling on it.
The past is a sword already swung. The future is a sword yet to be forged.
Standing up, he clenched his hold on his present sword. While it was plain, he would do.
He moved forward, standing with his ground. The blade flickered in his hands—each cut smooth, yet lethal. His steps were swift, elegant, a reflection of years of practice.
Even in this new body, his instincts remained. His swordplay was elegant yet ruthless, every strike carrying a lethal edge. Hours passed as he moved without pause, sweat drenching his clothes.
Finally, he halted.
His gaze fell upon the sword in his hands—small cracks had begun forming on the blade.
"…I need a better weapon."
Tomorrow, he would visit the market and find one.
As the sky grew dark, Orion came back to the mansion. After a freshening up, he dressed in light but elegant clothes before proceeding downstairs to the dining hall.
As he took up his utensils, he cleared his throat.
"Mother, Mother Sera… I've made up my mind. Tomorrow, I'm off to the city market to purchase a weapon."
Both women looked up.
Celia smiled. "That's a good idea."
Sera nodded. "I'll prepare what is needed for your journey."
Before Orion could answer, Elara leaned forward, her eyes shining.
"Can I come too?"
He cocked an eyebrow. "You want to go?"
"Of course!" She huffed, folding her arms. "I won't get left behind! I want a weapon too."
Celia laughed. "She's been saying that since breakfast."
Sera smiled. "She's very stubborn, isn't she?"
Elara pouted. "Hmph!
Smiling at Elara pouting, Orion reached out and tousled her hair. "Alright, alright. Then let's go together."
Elara blinked before grinning widely. "Yes!"
The warmth of the moment settled deep in Orion's heart.
Despite everything, despite how his father and brothers saw him, this family loved him.
And that… was enough.
As the night deepened, Orion excused himself, returning to his room.
Tonight, he would allow himself rest.
Tomorrow… his journey would continue.