Chapter 3 – The Blooming of Genius

The days passed like pages in a book, and soon years slipped by in quiet harmony. By the time Lucien turned eight, the once-confused child of two worlds had grown into a boy with poise beyond his age — the kind that drew admiration and unease alike.

It began when his father, Duke Aldric Vaelthorne, declared it was time to begin his training.

"Magic without discipline is like a blade with no hilt," the Duke had said on their first lesson, his deep voice echoing through the training yard.

Aldric was a towering man with scars carved into his skin like a battlefield’s memory. He taught Lucien not with indulgence, but with precision. Fire, wind, earth, and water — Lucien grasped them all with frightening speed. By his tenth lesson, he had already awakened his mana core, something most children didn’t manage until their teens.

Swordsmanship followed. His small hands struggled at first to hold the practice blade, but Lucien’s determination was ironclad. His father’s strikes were swift and unrelenting, but so was the boy’s will. Time and again, Lucien fell… and time and again, he rose.

But it wasn’t only the battlefield that demanded strength.

In the cool shade of the estate’s solar, Lady Evelyne Vaelthorne — Lucien’s mother — oversaw her son’s education in estate management, diplomacy, and finances. Unlike her husband's steel, her world was built of ledgers, treaties, and trade routes.

“You may be a warrior, my son,” Evelyne said, her silver quill poised elegantly over parchment, “but a true ruler builds more than he conquers.”

Lucien absorbed it all — taxes, grain supply, border negotiations, literacy programs for peasant villages — with uncanny ease. The maids often whispered that the young heir was a reincarnation of a sage. If only they knew.

Using knowledge from his past life, Lucien proposed improved irrigation systems and new taxation models that stunned his tutors. Soon, his ideas were being implemented across the duchy, and Evelyne began to rely on him as more than a student — he was becoming her partner.

But not all of Lucien’s time was spent under the watchful gaze of his noble parents.

When the stars blanketed the sky and the manor slumbered in quiet luxury, Lucien sometimes slipped away beyond the guarded walls. Deep into the forest, he wandered alone — not foolishly, but with purpose. There, among the shadows, he hunted monsters: twisted wolves, corrupted boars, and even a lesser wyvern once.

He told no one.

Each hunt was a test — of body, of instinct, of the power flowing through his veins. He never sought glory. Only understanding.

And in those moments, in blood and silence, Lucien remembered who he had been… and who he was becoming.

By the time he turned ten, Lucien Vaelthorne was already the talk of noble circles. Letters from academies, guilds, and foreign lords arrived at the estate in waves. Most were ignored. His parents had already decided.

It was time for Lucien to be presented at the Royal Capital.

The invitation came in golden script sealed with the royal crest: a noble gathering hosted by the crown, an annual affair where heirs of great houses mingled and alliances were shaped in hushed whispers and careful smiles.

For the first time in years, Lucien would step beyond the borders of the duchy — not as a child, but as the heir of House Vaelthorne.

As the family’s carriage rolled toward the horizon, wheels cutting through sun-dappled roads, Lucien peered out at the world awaiting him.

The capital was no longer a place he had only heard of in lessons or maps. It was real. Alive.

And it was time for him to step onto its stage.

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