The day after Core Awakening should have been filled with celebration.
In the Draythorne dynasty, the awakening of a new Core-bearer was a moment of pride—an excuse for banners, feasts, and fireworks. But for Kaelion, there was no music. No feast. Not even a whisper.
He passed through the palace halls like a shadow, ignored by the guards who used to nod respectfully. Servants pretended not to see him. And when he entered the family's great hall, the silence was louder than any scorn.
His siblings were already seated.
Long table. Ornate thrones. Six powerful bloodlines dressed in command. Fire. Ice. Earth. Wind. Lightning. Shadow.
Kaelion didn't belong here. Not anymore.
He remained standing, cloak still torn from the night's hunt, mud trailing behind his boots. No one addressed it.
Flare, the eldest, sipped her wine and didn't look up.
"So," she said, "you didn't die."
Kaelion said nothing.
"You ran off without permission," Zephyra added, her voice sharp like the crack of thunder. "Left the grounds. Broke house protocol."
Kaelion met her gaze. "I had something to prove."
"To whom?" Frostelle asked coldly. "To us? Or to yourself?"
Magnar leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his broad chest. "Does it matter? A Coreless boy picks a fight with a Tier-3 Graveback and comes back breathing. That's… something."
"Stupid," Sylvaine muttered. "Impressive. But still stupid."
Only Thorne remained silent, shadows curling faintly around his seat.
Kaelion looked at each of them, his voice calm.
"I'm not Coreless."
That earned him a flicker of attention.
Flare raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
Kaelion unclasped his cloak and let it fall.
Beneath the linen shirt, the faint glow of his chest was still there—a soft, golden pulse beneath his skin. Not dramatic. Not elemental. Not flashy.
But alive.
Real.
"I awakened," he said. "Just not in a way you understand."
---
Silence stretched across the table. Then came the laughter.
Zephyra was the first to laugh—dry, humorless. "So now you think you're… what? Chosen by some forgotten god?"
"No," Kaelion said. "I chose myself."
Flare leaned forward, firelight dancing in her eyes. "Careful, little brother. Delusions like that get weaker men killed."
"I'm not weaker."
"You were yesterday."
Kael didn't flinch.
The eldest Draythorne let out a sigh and stood. Her steps were soft, but each one echoed like a gavel.
She stopped in front of him.
"You survived the Graveback. Impressive. Maybe you're not as useless as the world thought." Her hand touched his shoulder—not warm, not cruel. Just heavy. "But you're still years behind the rest of us. Whatever power you've found… keep it quiet. Train in the outer courts. Stay out of politics. Stay out of the Capital's attention. You'll be safer that way."
"I don't need to be safe," Kaelion replied.
Her eyes sharpened.
"No," she said. "But the name Draythorne does."
---
By noon, Kael was gone from the palace again.
The outer courts weren't training grounds in the traditional sense. They were more like wastelands—abandoned marble arenas, broken towers, and overgrown gardens no longer fit for nobility.
He preferred it that way.
Here, he could move without watching eyes. Here, he could fight. Fail. Bleed. Learn.
He removed his cloak and set his stance.
> [Training Module Active: Void Pulse Step]
[System advises repetition: minimum 500 executions.]
Kaelion exhaled and vanished—then reappeared five feet ahead, panting slightly.
It wasn't teleportation. Not really. It was a flicker of movement, a break between space and perception. A trick of control, not magic.
He did it again.
And again.
And again.
---
By the hundredth step, his knees shook.
By two hundred, his vision blurred.
At three hundred, blood leaked from his nose, his muscles screaming in protest.
But he didn't stop.
Because the pain didn't matter.
What mattered was mastery.
> [Progress: 72%.]
[Combat Flow Recognized.]
[Modifier Unlocked: Void Step – "Echo Trace" variant available.]
Kael collapsed into the dirt, gasping.
Not from weakness.
From progress.
And for the first time, a faint smile touched his lips.