Time, for most children, was a stream they swam through—carefree, untethered. But for Lucien Arkanveil, time was a fuse. Burning. Steady. Inevitable.
And he could hear the spark inching closer.
Each day began before the sun. He woke not to the chirping of birds, but to the silent whisper of his own discipline. Stretching, meditating, practicing runes until the ink stained his fingers like tattoos. Then sparring—sometimes with Aleron, sometimes with himself, using weighted training dolls enchanted with low-grade aggression protocols. Wooden swords became steel. Mana threads became spells.
He grew.
Not just in size, but in substance.
Books stacked high around his room like castle walls. Grimoires from the old kingdom era. War manuals written by generals who'd never lost a battle. Philosophy scrolls that debated the nature of power, sin, and self. Some were borrowed from the family library. Others… he'd found in secret places, remembered from the villain's path. One hidden beneath a false floor in the eastern hall. Another behind a portrait of their ancestor, sealed by a puzzle only a scholar would recognize.
> [Mana Control Lv 7 (2999/4000)]
[Swordsmanship Lv 5 (1210/3000)]
[Ancient Language: Intermediate Proficiency Acquired]
[Trait Theory Lv 3 (1820/2000)] → Lv 4 Unlocked
[Notification: You are approaching the Global Trait Awakening Threshold. Estimated Time: 368 days]
His panel pulsed quietly in the background, never distracting, always present.
---
The estate noticed the change in him, though they didn't understand it.
His siblings sometimes joked that he had been replaced by a spell clone. Lyria pouted more often now, demanding her "fun brother" back. Seris watched him with narrowed eyes, as though she sensed something deeper brewing beneath his calm.
Caelum, at least, didn't question it—he just dragged Lucien into invention disasters whether he smiled or not.
But it was Aleron who pulled him aside one dusk, after a particularly intense spar.
"You've always been sharp," Aleron said, tossing Lucien a towel. "But lately… you've been sharpening alone."
Lucien said nothing, drying sweat from his face.
Aleron frowned. "You don't have to carry it all by yourself, you know."
Lucien looked up at him. His red eyes shimmered in the dim light, a storm restrained behind glass.
"I do," he said softly. "Because I remember what happens when we don't prepare."
Aleron blinked. "Remember?"
But Lucien just turned away, towel slung over his shoulder. "Forget it. Just a dream."
Aleron didn't press. But that night, Lucien found a training blade placed carefully at the door to his room—a better one, forged from mana-tempered steel. Aleron's way of saying: I see you. I'll be ready too.
---
In quiet hours, Lucien practiced magic not yet meant for his age. He studied Trait emergence phenomena, drawn from obscure texts only accessible to legacy families. He mapped out awakenings in past generations, looking for patterns, signs, anomalies.
And he trained himself to feel the shift.
Because he could feel it.
The world had a rhythm. It beat beneath his skin, threaded through the mana lines of the land, echoed in the wind and flame and stone. And that rhythm—once steady—was changing.
It was subtle. A faint hum in the core of his being. But the Proficiency Panel didn't lie. Every day, a low thrum in the corner of his mind grew louder. The magic in the air felt denser. The light of the moons slightly dimmer. As if the world itself were holding its breath.
> [Trait Awakening Protocol: Pre-Surge Detected]
[Unique User Alert: Dual-Trait Convergence Forecasted]
[Projected Traits: "Devour" (EX) and "Adaptation" (SSS)]
[Warning: Unknown Variables Detected… Monitoring Continuously.]
One more year.
Just one.
And then—everything would change.
---
Sometimes he dreamed of the original villain.
A boy broken by shadows, crushed under expectations. His name feared, his death celebrated. That Lucien had lashed out, consumed by bitterness. He had chased power not to protect, but to dominate. And in doing so, he had doomed them all.
Lucien would not repeat that story.
He had rewritten the prologue. Soon, he would rewrite the legacy.
---
A week before the end of his thirteenth year, he stood at the hill behind the estate, overlooking the vast forest below. The wind was quiet, but the tension in the air was thick enough to taste.
"Soon," he whispered.
"Soon what?" came a voice.
It was Seris. Her eyes glinted in the fading light.
He smiled gently. "Soon I'll be old enough to burn you back."
She rolled her eyes, but her smirk betrayed affection. "You wish."
Then she paused. "You've been different lately, Lucien."
He tilted his head.
"Like… you're walking toward something we can't see."
He didn't answer.
She didn't push. Just stood beside him, shoulder brushing his.
"We'll be ready too, you know," she murmured. "Whatever it is."
Lucien stared at the horizon.
You will be, he thought. Because I'll make sure of it.
---
The night before his fourteenth birthday, he stood alone in his room. The moonlight spilled through the windows, casting silver shadows across the floor.
His Proficiency Panel pulsed.
> [Trait Awakening: 00:12:03 Remaining]
[System Integration: Locked Until Awakening Complete]
[Proficiency Panel: Observation Mode Only]
[Status: Calm Before Storm]
He knelt, hands folded—not in prayer, but in preparation.
"Tomorrow," he whispered. "The villain dies. And I… I begin."