Kai cast a glance at the noblewoman, his expression devoid of any respect for the woman who should have been his "stepmother." His gaze remained fixed on the massive portrait before him. Running his fingers along the metal frame, etched with delicate patterns, he felt as if he were touching the mother of his memories.
Kai's indifference, paired with the silence of John and Legna—both high-tier squires—stoked the noblewoman's rage. But what infuriated her most was the portrait itself, which dominated the entire wall of the council hall. Countless times, she had tried to have the painting of the late countess removed, yet each attempt was met with Count Grant's icy stare.
Count Grant was no pushover. A man who had forged his fame and glory on the battlefield could never be controlled by a woman. His marriage to his first wife, Catherine, had been a love match—they had been childhood sweethearts, and their union had once been the envy of nobles across the realm. By contrast, his second marriage to this noblewoman felt like a transaction of power. It would never have happened if, after Kai's "death," the count had had another heir. Nor would it have come to pass if House Grant hadn't needed an alliance with the Hawksey family of the Kingdom of Sifa.
In truth, Lady Thea was a pitiable figure. A marquis's daughter and a countess by title, she was little more than a pawn in a noble alliance. Even with Count Grant, she had never known love—a fate shared by most nobles in arranged marriages. Love between a noble and a commoner existed only in tales, not in reality.
For Lady Thea, if she could not win the count's affection, she could at least cling to the love of her son. As the count's only son, he was destined to inherit the Purple Rose Territory and its title. Only through him could she secure true dignity—enough to hold her head high even when visiting her family in Sifa.
But Kai's sudden appearance threatened to snatch away her only hope. In the Lycia Alliance and its neighboring realms, noble titles followed the primogeniture system—eldest sons inherited all. Worse, Count Grant's deep love for Catherine was legendary across the Purple Rose Territory and beyond. If Kai's identity as the count's son was confirmed, her own son would almost certainly lose his birthright. This was something Lady Thea could never accept.
Blinded by fury and panic, she forgot the count's unshakable authority. Snatching a silver candelabra from a nearby table, she hurled it at the portrait.
Kai would never let the painting be destroyed. A Lesser Fireball shot from his fingertips, melting the candelabra into a puddle of silver mid-air. The spell made everyone in the hall stiffen. The count's squires had no right to interfere in noble family affairs, but if Lady Thea was harmed by Kai, they would never be able to answer to the count.
Surprisingly, the first to act was not the injured red-armored knight or John—it was the red-haired young man standing closest to Lady Thea. This, Kai realized, must be his half-brother. Around twelve or thirteen years old—six or seven years younger than Kai—he moved with surprising speed.
A brilliant purple flame of battle qi erupted from his sword. Leaping forward, he sliced through Kai's weakened Lesser Fireball, splitting it in two. Sparking embers fell to the stone floor, but nothing caught fire.
The young noble's move was impressive; he had clearly inherited House Grant's finest traits. Unlike Kai, however, he had his mother's red hair rather than the count's golden locks—though his features bore a five-point resemblance to the count.
Purple Flame Battle Qi was a Grant family heirloom, taught only to direct descendants and close relatives. Even in the entire count's household, fewer than fifteen people—including the count himself—were allowed to practice it. For an eighteen-year-old to already be a mid-tier squire, Kai's half-brother showed considerable talent. While knights advanced faster than mages, Kai himself had only been a mid-tier apprentice mage at eighteen.
After splitting the fireball, the impulsive young man pointed his rapier at Kai.
Kai had no interest in bickering with a "child"—even an eighteen-year-old mid-tier squire. In a real fight, for all the power of Purple Flame Battle Qi, this Grant heir would likely lose to the count's veteran mid-tier squires, who had survived real wars. His flair for the dramatic was impressive, but filled with unnecessary flourishes. Kai suspected a single Enhanced Fireball could end this branch of the Grant bloodline for good.
Yet he held back. Since returning to Grant Territory, nothing had felt as he'd imagined. He felt no sense of belonging here. Noble titles, honor, land, power—what did any of it matter to him? As a caster, he sought truth and elemental mastery. His goal was to explore the unknown, uncover secrets, and ascend to greater power and longevity—until he unlocked the mysteries of the Astral Plane.
House Grant was not his home. The small apprentice dorm he had shared with Lena felt more like "home" than this grand castle ever could.
With a wave of his hand, Kai stored the massive portrait in his spatial bracelet. The sudden disappearance of the wall-sized painting stunned everyone in the hall. Lady Thea, as a marquis's daughter, had seen spatial artifacts before. For years, she had begged her family in Sifa for one, and had only secured a tiny water-droplet bracelet—with just one cubic meter of space—for her son's coming-of-age ceremony. She had never seen a spatial artifact large enough to hold an entire portrait. Not even Count Grant owned such a treasure.
With his mother's portrait safely stored, Kai turned to leave the hall. When he had arrived, crowds had "greeted" him—some with kindness, others with malice. Now, no one dared stop him.
John had wanted to persuade him to stay, but after Kai spoke to him via Voice Transmission, the old knight opened his mouth, then sighed and fell silent. Legna, too, thought Kai should not leave so soon. But Lady Thea's hysterical screams, paired with the cold indifference in Kai's eyes as he departed, sent a shiver down Legna's spine. It was not Kai's power he feared, but that look—a gaze he had seen in Count Grant many times. The count was a powerful, respected noble, but those who knew him well understood he was unpredictable. Most days, he was approachable enough, but when angered, his presence alone could chill the air.
Kai walked through the castle's elaborate gardens, past fountains and gilded decorations. None of this opulence felt like his. When he reached the stone bridge leading out of the castle, a group of knights—dusty and weary from travel—appeared before him.
Twenty elite knights, all mid-tier squires or higher. Their black horses were no ordinary beasts; the sharpened hooves revealed faint magical beast bloodlines. At the front of the group rode a nobleman in purple armor, his red cloak billowing in the wind.
The moment Kai saw him, he knew who it was. And the nobleman knew Kai, too. Beyond the Bloodline Tracking Magic's confirmation, they looked nearly identical. No wonder the captain at Grant City's eastern gate had mistaken Kai for the count. The same golden hair, similar height, an 80% resemblance in facial features—even their quiet, composed auras were 70% alike. The only differences: Kai had his mother's eyes, and lacked the count's rugged knightly vigor. Instead, Kai carried an air of calm rationality.
Count Grant was stronger than Kai. Though not yet a Tier 1 knight, he had reached the quasi-knight rank. He was barely past forty—young for such an achievement. For most squires, forty was a turning point. Battle qi granted longevity; high-tier squires often lived to be eighty or ninety, even a hundred. But after their mid-forties, their strength and potential inevitably declined with age. Old battle wounds only accelerated this process.
Mages, by contrast, grew stronger with time. An elderly caster's wisdom and mastery of elemental truths made them far more formidable than young apprentices. No one underestimated a gray-bearded mage—if anything, they were seen as more reliable.
Count Grant had the resources of House Grant to support him. Though he had suffered severe wounds in his youth, most had healed. Reaching quasi-knight status in his early forties gave him a 60% chance of advancing to formal knight—an exceptionally high probability.
Tier 1 status unlocked a new world of possibilities. A lifespan of nearly a thousand years was just the beginning; more importantly, it allowed knights and mages to glimpse the "essence" of the Wizarding World—to understand its true nature and the civilization it housed.
House Grant was no ordinary noble family. As its lord, Count Grant had long been privy to some of the world's secrets. For example, he had learned the truth behind the endless wars between Lycia, Sifa, and the Orc Empire shortly after becoming a high-tier squire at twenty-three—thanks to his family's connections. In Lycia, any noble with a title of viscount or higher came from a lineage with deep roots. Upon inheriting their house or reaching a certain rank, they gained access to these hidden truths. Only the common people—millions of them—and low-tier squires remained in the dark, believing the wars were fueled by ancient grudges, or seeing them as a path to fame and fortune.
While some low-tier squires were knighted for their service, statistics told a different story: the lowest rank ever knighted was high-tier squire, and even then, the titles were rarely prestigious. In Lycia, "Lord" and "Knight" were the most common honors. High-tier squires who distinguished themselves in battle might be made knights; quasi-knights could earn the title of lord. Only those who transcended mortal limits to reach Tier 1 were granted true noble titles—viscount, at minimum—as the founders of new noble lines.
House Grant's status as a count's household proved one thing: the family had produced Tier 1 knights in the past—possibly more than one. Whether they had ever had higher-tier powerhouses, Kai did not know. He had been away for too long, cut off from his family's secrets. His father, as the direct heir and lord of the house, almost certainly knew more.
"Where are you going?" Count Grant asked, sitting tall on his horse, his whip resting lightly in his hand. He studied Kai, who stood alone on the bridge.
The count had traveled to Skorway with a much larger retinue for a pre-war council. But the moment he heard his eldest son had returned, he had left the main army behind, racing back with just his twenty elite personal guards. The sweat dripping from the black horses' flanks told of their frantic, unrelenting pace.