Steam curled like ethereal mist across the grand marble bathroom, rising from the enormous, rune-heated bathtub big enough to drown a small army. The scent of rare violet herbs filled the air — the kind only nobles bathe in because apparently, smelling divine is a mark of civilization.
I leaned against the golden-edged mirror, water still dripping down my hair, staring at the face that looked back.
"Almost a year…" I murmured.
A year since my awakening.A year since I transmigrated into this mess of a novel called The World's Last Stand. And a year since I learned that my life as a "high noble" was an elaborate lie — one that involved blood, bruises, beasts, and a maniac of an instructor who should honestly be exorcised.
I touched my chest lightly — could feel the faint pulse of my mana core thrumming inside. My aura and mana had stabilized, harmonized even, and my control had reached a level that made most academy knights look like toddlers throwing tantrums. My gravity affinity, the one I'd awakened later, had refined beautifully. I could now make stones float, swords weigh ten times more, and occasionally make Lira's tea cup levitate just to annoy her.
But even with all that, the real miracle was that I had survived my training for a year.
My eyes narrowed as I remembered him, my so-called instructor.
That bastard.
I can still recall it vividly — that smug face, that "trust me, this will be fun" smile, and my stupid, naive self thinking, Finally, he's acknowledging me!
Hah. What a fool I was.
He told me, "Its going to be fun." and I thought, Oh, maybe he's organizing a party, or a celebration for my new affinity.
Turns out his definition of "fun" was throwing me off a cliff into a nest of wyverns.
I kid you not, that was day one.
He kidnapped me and Lira — yes, kidnapped, because I sure as hell didn't go willingly — and dragged us out of the mansion in the middle of the night like some bandit on a spiritual retreat. When I woke up, I was dangling upside down in a desert, my hands tied with anti-magic rope, and a anaconda the size of a carriage sniffing at my boots.
You know what he said when I asked, "WHY! why have you lied?"He smiled — that sadistic, demonic smile — and said, "I never lied young master, I said it would be fun, but not for whom."
That's when I realized. Hell isn't a fiery pit. Hell is a training trip with that man.
For months, we wandered across every death zone imaginable. Frozen mountains that made your teeth hurt. Lava plains where your boots melted. Swamps that smelled like someone's soul died there centuries ago.And every single time, my instructor would say, "Adapt, young master. Use your aura."
Use my aura? Use my— I swear, if murder wasn't illegal, that man would be fertilizer by now.
And yet… the worst part? He was right.
After countless near-death experiences, monster hunts, and sleepless nights, I'd grown stronger — physically, mentally, and magically. My aura control was now so refined I could slice an apple in half mid-air with a flicker of intent. My gravity affinity? Deadly. I could make enemies float helplessly or slam them into the ground with a thought.
And my mana core?It thrummed like a heartbeat — stable, powerful, and intoxicatingly responsive.
Oh, and the bastard didn't stop there. No, he had to say, "Since your body's not completely useless anymore, let's teach you something productive."
Turns out he was also a master blacksmith. So, I got stuck learning Runesmithing.
Imagine this: me, the refined, charming noble, hammering molten metal while drenched in sweat, soot on my face, looking like a peasant working overtime for bread. I wanted to cry.
But… it worked out. Now I could craft my own runic tools — small trinkets, charms, seals — things that could enhance my combat or disguise my aura. No more borrowing expensive family artifacts. I'd made my own damn gear.
I took another long look at my reflection — muscles just right, not bulky, not thin; more "lethal elegance" than "meathead warrior." My aura pulsed faintly beneath my skin, giving my eyes that faint golden shimmer that, if I'm being honest, made me look devastatingly heroic.
"Perfect," I said, grinning. "Even mirrors will fall in love with me."
"Damn," I muttered, flexing a little. "Even gods would be jealous of this craftsmanship."
I paused, tilted my head. "Then again, I am the one who has to maintain it. So… thanks, me."
Lira's voice came from the other side of the door, calm as ever."Young master, if you are done flirting with your reflection, you should get ready. We must leave for the royal palace in an hour."
I nearly jumped. "Can you not sneak up like that?!"
"I wasn't sneaking, young master. You've been complimenting yourself for the last ten minutes. I assumed you needed help deciding which compliment to use next."
I groaned. "Lira, I swear, sarcasm wasn't part of your maid protocol."
"I adapted," she said flatly. "Survival instinct."
I grinned
Drying my hair with a flick of magic, I stepped out — the faint shimmer of gravity keeping droplets from touching my clothes. I moved to the wardrobe, scanning through a collection of fine noblewear.
"Today's outfit should scream elegance," I muttered, "but also whisper danger."
"You're visiting the royal palace, not auditioning for a play," Lira said, handing me a dark outfit — a tailored black coat lined with silver, with the subtle insignia of Darknorth embroidered on the chest and the back: a sword with one edge of fire, the other of frost.
I put it on, adjusted the collar, and turned toward the mirror again.
"Oh yes," I said softly. "The perfect balance of nobility, charm, and barely concealed arrogance."
Lira sighed, "It's a miracle you're still single."
"It's a curse," I corrected. "The world cannot handle this much perfection in one package."
She actually rolled her eyes — a rare sight. "You should finish your tea. The Duke is expecting us soon."
I picked up the cup and sipped. "Ah… finely brewed serenity. The calm before another storm of politics."
As I gazed into the dark liquid, my reflection shimmered faintly, and a thought crossed my mind — not sarcastic, not dramatic, but quiet and sincere.
A year ago, I was an extra — a background decoration in someone else's story.Now, I was strong enough to write my own lines.
Of course, I'd still prefer fewer cliffs and fewer "fun" training trips.
But as I fastened my cloak and headed toward the door, I smiled and whispered, "Let's see what new disaster awaits, shall we?"
Lira followed with her usual calm grace, and I could swear I heard her mutter, "Gods help whoever crosses paths with this man."