The ancient history books spoke of a time when seven kingdoms ruled the world.
But that was the past.
Now, only three kingdoms remained — the rest swallowed by war, demons, and bloodshed.
And of the three, the Empire of Solaris, where Naomi now lived, stood as the strongest.
An empire of swords, magic, and ruthless power.
Naomi closed the book slowly, letting the weight of it settle in his mind.
"This world... is a battlefield," he muttered under his breath.
Determination hardened inside him.
He stood up — or at least, he tried to.
The moment he placed his weight on his legs, his body betrayed him.
His knees buckled, and he collapsed hard onto the marble floor.
"Ugh!"
Before he could even react, Seraphina was there — faster than a striking viper.
Without a word, she scooped him up effortlessly in her arms — carrying him princess-style like he weighed nothing.
"My lord," she whispered, concern flashing in her pale blue eyes, "please... don't push yourself."
Naomi's cheeks flushed a deep red.
She smelled faintly of steel, leather, and something soft like lilac.
He could feel her chest pressing lightly against him as she carried him.
Too close... way too close... he thought, panicking internally.
Within minutes, she reached his room and gently placed him on his bed.
Then she stood guard at the side, a silent sword between Naomi and the world.
A guard posted outside saluted her sharply.
Naomi looked up at her, puzzled.
"Why...?" he asked. "Why are you caring for me so much?"
Seraphina met his gaze, her expression unwavering.
"Because you are my lord," she said simply.
"My sword has only one master. My loyalty, my life, my strength — all belong to you."
Naomi opened his mouth to say something — but a knock interrupted.
"Young master," a voice called out. "Your meal."
Seraphina moved swiftly, opening the door and taking a silver tray from the castle chef. She brought it over to the bed and carefully set it down.
Without hesitation, she picked up a piece of warm bread and held it out to Naomi.
He stared, stunned.
"You're going to... feed me?" he asked.
Seraphina only nodded, completely serious.
"My lord must regain his strength."
Naomi's stomach growled loudly in betrayal.
Blushing furiously, he opened his mouth and let her feed him like a child.
She was gentle but firm, tearing pieces of bread and feeding him with care, wiping crumbs from his lips with a soft cloth.
In a way, it felt... strangely comforting.
After the meal, Naomi leaned back against the pillows, feeling a little stronger.
He looked at her seriously.
"I lost my memory," he said. "Please... tell me about my family. About this kingdom."
Seraphina knelt before him, her head bowed in respect.
"As you command, my lord," she said quietly.
The chamber lay steeped in silence, bathed in the fading gold of a dying sun.
Naomi sat against the heavy bedframe, his body frail, his mind a storm of emotions not born of this world.
Before him, kneeling in perfect devotion, was Seraphina — the white-haired sword of House Darkstar.
Yet Seraphina did not truly see Naomi.
She saw Nel — her timid, broken young master, somehow stirred back to life after slumbering on the edge of death.
"You wished to know of your family, my lord," she said quietly, her voice carrying a weight even she did not recognize.
"I will tell you all I know."
Naomi gave a faint nod, concealing the fire that smoldered behind his borrowed eyes.
Seraphina bowed her head lower, speaking with a careful sadness — as if fearing the pain her words would awaken.
"The Darkstar bloodline... is a complicated one, my lord," she began.
"There were three women bound to the Duke.
But only two were granted the honor of bearing his heirs."
Her words fell like stones into the silence.
"The First Wife, Lady Selene Vael," Seraphina said, "is a woman of royal blood and ruthless ambition.
She bore two children for the Duke — your eldest siblings."
She hesitated, as though weighing how much truth to reveal.
"Your sister, Lady Evelyne Darkstar...
She was born a prodigy.
A Swordmaster so gifted that veteran knights kneel in her presence, not from duty, but from fear."
Naomi felt a coldness tighten around his heart.
A sister of divine talent... while Nel had been left to rot in the shadows.
Seraphina continued, her voice sharpening.
"And from Lady Selene also came Lord Lucien Darkstar."
A faint shiver traced her words.
"Lucien is known throughout the realm as Death's Tie — a cold-blooded killer from childhood.
They say he strangled a grown knight with a silk ribbon before he turned twelve.
Mercy is a word foreign to him."
Naomi listened, his stomach knotting.
"Then came the Second Wife," Seraphina said, her voice bitter with old anger.
"Lady Irina Valtros.
From her womb came Murin Darkstar — fiery, arrogant, merciless.
A sorcerer who commands flame like an artist commands a brush... and cruelty like a master commands a slave."
Her silver eyes flicked upward, catching Naomi's gaze.
"And lastly," she said, almost in a whisper,
"came you, my lord — born of Lady Elara Moonveil."
A silence stretched between them, heavier than iron.
"Lady Elara," Seraphina said with reverence, "was no noble of grand house.
She was... chosen for her beauty.
Younger than the others, radiant as the dawn, yet hated and scorned by the household."
Her hands clenched over her knees.
"You were her only child.
But when you were born — frail, without sword or spell — the court whispered you were cursed.
An omen.
A disgrace."
Seraphina bowed even lower, her forehead brushing the cold marble.
"You lived under constant torment, my lord.
They mocked you.
Hunted you.
Twice, you nearly died — 'accidents,' they claimed.
But we who served knew better."
Her voice trembled with anger she could no longer hide.
"Your brother Murin... challenged you to a duel.
You, who could barely lift a practice sword.
He struck you down with fire — left you broken and comatose."
A tear slid down her cheek, unseen.
"And yet... you survived."
Naomi sat motionless, absorbing every word.
He now understood: Nel had been a ghost in his own home, unloved, unguarded.
A lamb tossed into a den of wolves.
The Duke?
He had never lifted a hand.
Not to love. Not to save. Not even to remember.
In the world of Darkstar, only strength was law.
And Nel... had been born with none.
But Naomi... Naomi was not Nel.
He would not kneel.
He would not break.
If strength ruled this world, then he would become a power they had never dreamed could exist.
Seraphina, mistaking his long silence for grief, bent low, pressing her forehead to the ground.
"My lord," she whispered, "you may not have sword or spell —
but you have my sword, and my life.
I swear it before gods and men."
Naomi gazed down at her — this loyal girl who knew nothing of the man she had sworn to.
Not Nel.
Not the weak child of tragedy.
But Naomi, who carried the will of another world in his blood.
A sharp, dangerous smile curled his lips.
"Good," he whispered.
"Then stand. I have much to do."
Beyond the stone walls, night fell across the Empire.
But in the depths of House Darkstar, a new star had begun to rise — not a light of warmth or hope,
but a burning, merciless sun that would scorch everything in its path.
[End of Chapter]