Two years had passed since Lucien Caelum Velebrandt first explored the grand city nestled within the territory of House Velebrandt. Once a six-year-old boy who marveled at magical meats and noble fashion, Lucien was now an eight-year-old heir slowly coming into his own. The once timid yet curious child had grown visibly more composed, observant, and mature. Yet, he retained his whimsical curiosity, his love for storytelling, and the noble arrogance befitting his lineage.
The Velebrandt estate, a bastion of luxury and power, remained an oasis of peace in a world slowly creeping toward chaos. The Abyssian King had long been resurrected—an event feared across the continents. But within the fortress-like estate walls, guarded day and night, the darkness of the outside world felt like a myth, a story far removed from Lucien's daily life.
This morning, like many before it, Lucien found himself in one of his favorite spots—a secluded gazebo nestled deep within the Velebrandt flower gardens. The morning sun poured a gentle warmth through the climbing vines above the gazebo roof, casting dappled light on the cobblestone floor. A low breeze made the curtains sway like lazy clouds. A set of fine silver trays rested on the nearby marble table, holding tea steeped in honeyed herbs, an assortment of crisp biscuits, and colorful fruit slices.
Lucien sat back in a white rocking chair, his legs barely touching the footrest. His white hair, now slightly longer and brushed back neatly, glowed under the sunlight. His two-colored eyes—one a striking crimson and the other an ashen gray—reflected calm satisfaction.
Snuggled against him was a sleeping three-year-old boy with tousled white hair and cherubic cheeks. His younger brother, now able to speak in short sentences and run about the estate halls like a wind-up toy, had grown fond of curling up beside Lucien whenever he could.
Today was no different.
Lucien gently caressed his brother's back, the warmth of the child's tiny body resting peacefully against his stomach. The rocking chair creaked softly beneath them as they moved in a rhythmic lull.
He let out a breath and tilted his head upward. "Two years already," he murmured, smiling faintly. "I've bathed, eaten, trained, read every dry book in the library, annoyed Marie, and somehow haven't died of boredom."
The breeze danced through the garden, ruffling his silver locks.
His thoughts drifted. Back to the beginning.
When he first woke up in this world, a reincarnator thrust into the body of a villain feared by all, Lucien had expected pain, punishment, maybe a swift execution by one of the 16 heroes. But what he got instead was the peaceful life of a noble child, surrounded by loving family, indulgent maids, and incredible privilege.
He recalled his father—Grand Duke Velebrandt—who had recently returned for a brief stay. The legendary man had towered like a wall of iron and elegance, his every word respected. Lucien admired him. Feared him. Wanted to surpass him.
Then there was his mother, Seraphina Lysandra Velebrandt, the golden-haired Archduchess who told stories by candlelight, doted upon him with quiet pride, and carried the terrifying wrath of a lioness when displeased. It had only taken one broken vase for Lucien to witness the full power of her fury.
He chuckled at the memory.
His mind returned to the present—the gentle sound of birdsong, the faint fragrance of violets in bloom, and the occasional rustling of garden maids tending to nearby flowerbeds. Some of them paused to watch the serene sight of the young master and his brother.
"How adorable…" one whispered. "He's like a little lord already."
"Such a good older brother," said another, clasping her hands together as if beholding a divine scene.
Lucien smirked slightly, pretending not to hear.
He tilted his head toward his brother's ear and whispered, "They'll never suspect that I'm the future villain who breaks kingdoms. Right, little guy?"
The toddler shifted slightly in his sleep, letting out a tiny yawn, his tiny hand fisting Lucien's shirt.
Lucien let out a sigh, thinking about the past few months. His sword training with Knight Rex had grown increasingly intense. His arms had bruised, and his legs ached, but the progress was undeniable. He now wielded a blade with precision few eight-year-olds could manage. Knight Rex never held back, always treating him as someone destined to survive a war.
His library studies had covered history, noble etiquette, statecraft, and basic magic theory. Though not yet awakened, Lucien had read enough to understand the vast difference between commoners, awakened humans, and races like the Drakari or Elves.
And soon…
"At age ten…" Lucien whispered, staring at the clouds, "I'll awaken."
The ceremony loomed in the distance like a mountain on the horizon. He would be tested by the Empire's Church of Elyssira. They'd measure his mana, examine his affinity, and determine his starting class. Most kids feared it. Some hoped to become mages or knights.
But Lucien?
He smiled.
He already knew he had chosen two talents beyond even EX-rank. He had the soul of someone who helped bring ruin to the world in the last cycle. The 16 heroes, now children like his little brother, might still be scattered across the Empire or beyond—growing, plotting, remembering.
And yet… he didn't feel afraid.
"Their hatred won't stop me," Lucien said aloud. "I may not know how to play the villain… but I'll rewrite the whole story if I must."
As if stirred by his voice, his little brother shifted again, wrapping his arms around Lucien more tightly. The rocking chair creaked beneath them once more.
He glanced down with uncharacteristic warmth.
"I'll protect you too," he whispered. "Whatever happens. You'll never get caught up in all of it."
The quiet resolve in his voice was a stark contrast to the playful arrogance he'd often display.
Behind the garden, one of the mansion's white doves took flight, its wings flapping toward the estate walls. The peace surrounding House Velebrandt remained untouched—unbothered by war, unshaken by rumors of the Abyssian King's revival. But the shadows beyond the mountains stirred. Monsters multiplied. Old gods whispered.
Lucien rocked back again and took another sip of his tea, the warm aroma calming his nerves.
"I wonder if magical meat tastes better when roasted or grilled," he mused. "Or maybe marinated…"
He looked up as Marie, his ever-faithful maid, approached with a soft smile. Her emerald eyes sparkled beneath her neat brown hair, and her hands held a folded blanket.
"Shall I wrap young master's brother, so he doesn't catch cold?"
Lucien nodded, and she gently took the small boy into her arms, whispering lullabies as she moved to a padded bench nearby.
"I brought more scones," she said, placing a new tray beside him.
Lucien leaned back and let the sunlight soak into his skin.
Yes. This world, chaotic and unpredictable as it may be, had given him a peace he never thought he'd have.
And for now… that was enough.
________________________________________
A year had passed in the blink of an eye. Lucien Caelum Velebrandt, heir to the West and the mighty House of Velebrandt, now stood on the precipice of a great milestone. Nine years old and brimming with composure few children his age possessed, he stood at the grand marble steps of the Velebrandt Mansion—its towering spires casting long shadows across the estate gardens. In exactly one week, he would turn ten. And with that age came a ceremony that had long been woven into the tapestry of human tradition: the Awakening.
A luxurious black carriage adorned with gilded wings and the crest of the winged lion stood in front of the mansion's fountain, its wheels gleaming as if freshly summoned from a dream. The magical horses drawing it were no ordinary steeds. Tall and muscular, each had a charcoal-black coat with wisps of dark flame licking along their flanks. Mana-rich veins glowed faintly across their bodies, and their burning crimson eyes scanned the grounds with unnerving awareness. They were Nightmanes—war steeds bred deep within the Velebrandt family's mountain keep. Fierce, untamable by most, but loyal to the bloodline.
Flanking the carriage were six knights riding Nightmanes of their own. Their dark cloaks fluttered in the breeze, steel armor polished to a mirror shine. These were A-rank knights, among the finest in the Empire, personally selected by the Grand Duke to accompany and protect his son. And at their head, holding the reins of a horse that seemed to have molten silver running through its mane, was none other than General Knight Rex. His stern gaze swept across the estate, making even veteran guards stand straighter.
The mansion grounds were filled with activity. Maids hurried with bundles, stablemen bowed deeply to the knights, and guards lined the paths in full ceremonial armor. This was no ordinary departure—it was the send-off of the future Grand Duke.
At the heart of the commotion, Archduchess Seraphina Lysandra Velebrandt stood under the flowering arch at the steps, her golden hair tied neatly behind her, a soft yet tired expression on her beautiful face. She was visibly pregnant now, her belly round with the next Velebrandt heir—her daughter. Her arm rested gently atop the head of a small boy who clung to her side, gazing wide-eyed at the carriage.
Emilien Velebrandt, now four years old, had grown from a chubby toddler into a curious, observant child. His silver-white hair, lighter than Lucien's, swayed in the spring wind, and his dual gray eyes shimmered with confusion and sadness. He understood that his older brother was leaving for a long time.
Lucien stepped forward from the house, dressed in dark noble travelwear—his cloak bearing the lion's sigil clasped over his shoulder, his posture upright but serene. He carried no sword yet—those were for after the Awakening—but the aura he gave off was more noble than many fully grown men. He reached out his hand and gently patted Emilien's head.
"Be a good boy to our mother," Lucien said softly, a warm smile lighting his usually composed face.
Emilien nodded and threw his arms around Lucien's waist. "Don't forget about me, brother."
"I couldn't if I tried," Lucien replied, ruffling his hair.
Not far behind them, Seraphina was speaking to the knights now. Her voice, though gentle, held the unmistakable authority of someone born into power.
"Protect my son at all costs," she said firmly. "Do not let harm come to him, no matter the price."
"We shall sacrifice our lives before letting harm befall the young master," the knights responded in unison, fists over their hearts.
The air buzzed with mana, emotion, and the weight of legacy.
Marie, the young maid who had been assigned as Lucien's personal caretaker since his early years, approached from another carriage behind the main one. She wore a traveling cloak, a hint of worry in her eyes. Despite her training, the thought of leaving the estate and crossing the Empire with the young master filled her with equal parts excitement and dread. She had been given the honor of following him to the capital and had packed all that was needed for his comfort. She bowed respectfully.
"Young Master, we are ready to depart."
Lucien looked once more at his mother, his brother, the towering gates of the mansion behind them. For two years he had known nothing but warmth, training, and discovery within these walls. The scent of jasmine from the garden, the echo of his little brother's laugh, the stern yet warm teachings of Knight Rex, and the soft lullabies his mother sang—he committed it all to memory.
He turned, gracefully entered the ornate carriage, and closed the door behind him.
Marie climbed into the carriage behind, sitting across from him, straightening the folds of her cloak.
Knight Rex gave a command. The magical horses snorted, the wheels creaked forward, and the procession began to move. Lucien looked out the small window, waving calmly.
Seraphina, Emilien, and the gathered maids waved back. The Archduchess's eyes glistened as she held her son close.
The iron gates of House Velebrandt opened slowly, revealing the cobbled road that wound its way through the mountains and into the Empire's heart.
As the convoy passed under the gates, Lucien sat back in his seat. His fingers gripped the windowsill, his heart fluttering not from fear—but excitement. For the first time since he was reincarnated into this world, he would leave the estate and face the greater world. And within one week, he would awaken the talent that defined this world.
Marie broke the silence.
"Are you nervous, young master?"
Lucien turned to her and smiled. "Not nervous. Just curious. Curious to see how this world will react… to me."
Outside, Knight Rex's silver-maned horse trotted steadily, leading the Velebrandt heir's escort down the sun-kissed trail to the Empire's capital.
The road to Awakening had begun.