Count Grant's voice was quiet, yet it cut through the air clearly enough for everyone nearby to hear—Kai included. His feelings toward this father were tangled: he resented Grant for never searching for him, and for remarrying so soon after his mother Catherine's death.
Kai's half-brother looked to be around eighteen—six or seven years younger than Kai. That meant Grant had remarried and fathered a new child within a year or two of Kai's abduction and Catherine's passing.He has a new wife and son now, Kai thought bitterly.Why would he bother looking for me?
Resentment, which he'd nearly buried when he decided to leave the castle, flared up again at the sight of his father. He pulled his 's hood over his hair and replied to the count's question: "Going home."
"Thisisyour home," Count Grant said, his brow furrowing as he sat atop his black horse.
"No. All I see here is a stepmother who me, a hostile half-brother, and a portrait of my mother. My home is elsewhere."
The air around Count Grant chilled instantly. It was impossible to tell if he was angry at Kai's words, or at Lady Thea's actions. He flicked his riding whip against the bridge; infused with battle qi, the whip cracked a deep gash in the stone. The display alone proved his strength dwarfed that of the Sifan red-armored knight by a wide margin.
" Thea will apologize to you—today," he said firmly. "And your brother, Thorin… he will apologize too, and recognize you as his elder brother. I promise it."
There was genuine affection in the count's tone. If Catherine were still alive, Kai might have embraced this family he'd been separated from for nineteen years. But now, no matter how warm Grant seemed, Kai felt like an outsider.
"No. This place isn't mine. I have things worth pursuing—things more important than getting lost in false noble family ties." He shook his head.
"False?" Count Grant repeated, his brow knitting tighter.
In the Wizarding World, noble knights valued bloodline far more than mages did. Many mages devoted their lives to magic and elemental power, neglecting heirs in favor of passing down knowledge and mentoring apprentices. While noble households were rife with petty scheming, no noble—especially a powerful lord or heir—took direct bloodline inheritance lightly.
Lady Thea's anger at Kai's return was understandable, but her attempt to drive him out of Grant Territory, even to arrest or harm him, was foolish. If her family hadn't been as powerful as House Grant, Count Grant might have cast her aside or even divorced her outright. To many high nobles, women were little more than tools for producing heirs. Grant's marriage to Thea had been a political alliance, forged for her family's influence and the promise of a strong-blooded child. In recent years, they'd barely shared a bed.
Thorin's birth, just a year after their marriage, had only been possible thanks to a rare fertility potion from House Grant's archives. Higher-ranked knights had far lower chances of siring children—a result of biological evolution and the laws of balance. While quasi-knights like Grant weren't "high-tier beings" by strict standards, House Grant's influence made securing such potions easy. These elixirs were highly sought after by knightly families across the Wizarding World.
House Grant was relatively restrained in expanding its bloodline, keeping core and branch family numbers balanced. Other noble houses, however, went to extremes—some lords fathered a dozen or more children in a single generation to maximize "quality bloodlines." The practice had pros and cons, depending on a family's size and resources.
House Grant had once produced Tier 1 knights, but their most powerful ancestor had left the Wizarding World over forty years ago to fight in a planar war. He was far from alone: most Tier 1 knights from Lycia, Sifa, and the Orc Empire had departed their homelands. The billions of commoners in these three realms would never know the truth: while their nations fought endless "low-level wars," the Tier 1 powerhouses of all three were actually part of the same knightly orders. The wars were nothing but training grounds to select true knightly elites—part of a plan adopted by most knightly orders in the Wizarding World to cultivate qualified Tier 1 knights. Only those who transcended mortal limits could survive the perils of the Astral Plane and fight for Wizarding Civilization in interplanar wars.
Wizarding Civilization's reputation across the Astral Plane was far more fearsome than weak, low-tier beings could imagine. It was a top-tier civilization capable of dominating over ninety percent of the planes in its stellar region.Thatwas the world's true nature.
If Kai had stayed and become House Grant's heir, Count Grant would have shared all this with him. But Kai remained unshaken by his father's promises. He didn't care about Thea's apology, or Thorin's recognition. He was determined to leave.
Count Grant sighed softly. "Restrain him."
A tense standoff erupted. The count's twenty personal guards were battle-hardened veterans: fourteen mid-tier squires, five high-tier squires, and even a mid-tier apprentice mage. Three high-tier squires stepped forward in a triangular formation, not drawing their swords but pulling glinting metal ropes from their saddles. Forged from hundred-layered steel, these ropes weren't magical, but their strength and durability could bind even mid-tier magical beasts.
Grant had hoped to avoid force, but his son was as stubborn as he was. Perhaps locking Kai in the castle for a while would soften his resentment and help him accept his family. The count was also eager to learn where Kai had been all these years—and to uncover the truth behind his abduction nineteen years ago. Clues had hinted at involvement from other Lycian nobles and foreign forces; House Grant had its enemies, after all. Even within the Wizarding World and Lycia, old grudges and conflicting interests created hidden foes. While top-tier family members and knightly orders kept open warfare in check, sabotage and scheming were common.
For enemies of House Grant, orchestrating a bandit attack on a rural villa and abducting a six-year-old heir had seemed like a low-risk move. Nobles often had dozens of heirs—losing one child (especially not the lord himself) was rarely a fatal blow, and with clean execution, blame could never be proven. Grant had retaliated over the years: several heirs of rival noble houses had died "accidentally" on the border, killed by Sifan or Orc Empire soldiers. No one questioned why those heirs had been sent on suicidal missions, or why Lycian reinforcements had arrived too late. Such delays were brushed off as bureaucratic bickering—a common flaw in Lycia, where the lack of a king left military command fragmented. It was one reason Lycia, despite its larger territory and population, was the weakest of the three human realms.
Count Grant had assumed three high-tier squires would easily subdue Kai. He'd even begun planning how to talk to his son, how to convince him to stay. He was willing to pass the count's title to Kai in twenty or thirty years—House Grant was powerful enough that even if Kai were a commoner, he could inherit, so long as he continued the bloodline. For Tier 1 beings, who lived for nearly a millennium, the decades of a mortal noble's life were a mere blink. Low-tier beings, blind to the world's truths, thought their short lives encompassed everything—unaware they saw only a fraction of the Astral Plane's vastness. Only Tier 1 powerhouses could "truly open their eyes to the world."
But before Grant could finish his thoughts, the skirmish was nearly over. Kai's Acid Staff struck first, disabling the closest high-tier squire before he could react. The other two squires, caught off guard by Kai's ferocity, regrouped—but not before Kai unleashed his Flame Blade. It was an unfair fight: the squires had no weapons drawn, and they'd underestimated Kai's skill. Yet Kai held back—he could see they bore him no real malice. The squire hit by acid only had his leg armor melted and fell from his horse; with quick treatment, he would survive.
The scorching sparks of Flame Blade clashing with steel finally jolted Count Grant back to reality. Before he could speak, the three squires, now wounded, charged again—this time drawing their swords, battle qi flickering around them. Though one had a acid-burned leg and another a shattered breastplate, none uttered a sound. They were true veterans of the count's guard—even in Menzoberranzan's Dark Magic Academy, they would have been formidable.
Kai tensed, second-guessing his mercy. If he'd aimed the Acid Staff at the squire's head instead of his leg, he could have killed him instantly. The other two would have been gravely injured too.
"Senior apprentice mage?" Count Grant's voice cut through the tension. He chuckled. "Impressive. Did you inherit such talent from your mother's family? Stand aside—let me test my son myself."
He flicked his whip, and the three squires retreated, quickly tending to their wounds with field medicine—second nature to veterans of countless battles. Count Grant remained on his horse, no sword drawn; his whip, now glowing with purple flame, was his weapon.Crack! Crack!The whip lashed against the bridge, and the once-smooth white stone was soon pockmarked with craters.
Grant was a battle-hardened noble knight. Even with a whip (an unorthodox weapon for a knight), he wielded it with precision—each strike's force and battle qi direction were calculated to perfection. Worse, he casually pointed out Kai's flaws mid-fight, advising him on how to improve.
Kai had spent over a decade in Menzoberranzan, but those years were filled with experiments and study, not war. His fighting style was ruthless—true to a dark mage apprentice—but he was no professional soldier like his father. With his quasi-knight battle qi and decades of combat experience, Grant finally managed to dampen Kai's . At first, Kai dismissed his father's advice, but as he repeatedly failed to break through Grant's whip and battle qi, he was forced to admit: in combat, his father's skill far exceeded his own, even at twenty-five.
But mages thrive on knowledge, Kai reminded himself.Knowledge is power. If I keep learning, I'll surpass him one day.
"My mana and mental strength are nearly exhausted," Kai thought, unleashing another Fire Hand mid-tier spell. "Is this how abundant a quasi-knight's battle qi is? No—most quasi-knights can't match this. It's his Purple Flame Battle Qi's refinement, and how he controls its output so precisely."
The purple-flame whip snapped through the air, shattering Kai's Fire Hand. "That mid-tier spell has good force," Grant commented, "but I see a problem. You only know one high-tier spell, don't you? The one that injured Carter—was it a built-in ability of that staff? That's why you rely so much on mid-tier magic." He shook his head, impressed. "Still, reaching senior apprentice at twenty-five is remarkable. Magic apprentices advance far slower than squires."
Grant had laid bare Kai's limits, proving his dominance in every way. Yet he didn't want to alienate his newly reunited son. He slowed his attacks and said, "Stay. With House Grant's power and resources, I can get you several high-tier spell models. And I know—mage research and experiments are costly. I'll allocate fifty thousand gold coins to you each year, for your studies. On my honor as count and lord of Grant Territory."
Lycian gold coins were valuable—backed by fertile plains and abundant grain, they were worth more than Sifan currency, and only slightly less than the Orc Empire's Orc Gold. Fifty thousand gold coins a year was an astronomical sum; many impoverished noble families couldn't amass that much in a lifetime. The offer would tempt even a quasi-mage. As Grant had said, mage research devoured wealth. Kai—with his mentor's inheritance and "mine" of resources—was an exception. Most apprentices spent nearly half their lives scrambling for materials and funds, not studying. Even formal mages faced this struggle.
Beyond gold, House Grant's influence and connections were priceless. Grant could secure rare materials or precious mana crystals for Kai's experiments—something poor nobles or unaffiliated apprentices could only dream of. And best of all, it was a gift: no strings attached.
By all logic, Kai should accept. It was a deal with no downsides. Mages were supposed to be rational, after all—surely he could see the benefits. Count Grant was confident he'd won Kai over, in battle and in negotiation.
But the count knew nothing of Kai's true experiences, or his wealth.If I sold Modesto's relics and those thirty Tier 2 mana crystals, Kai thought dryly,how much of this grand castle do you think they'd buy?
As Grant slowed his attacks, Kai stepped back after casting one last Fireball. He could tell his father had no intention of harming him—his whip had only targeted Kai's spells, never touching his body. But Kai still wanted to leave, and his mana was nearly gone.
From his spatial bracelet, he drew an ancient black staff—one of two Modesto had left him. He hadn't mastered the more aggressive metal staff yet, but he'd figured out the black one's functions, and his senior apprentice mental strength was just enough to wield it. The staff held three innate spells: a regenerative Body Restoration, an offensive formal spell called Fire Surge, and a utility formal spell called Gale Song.
Fire Surge required too much mental strength and mana—Kai's current state couldn't handle it, and unleashing such a powerful formal spell would destroy half the castle. Gale Song, however, was wind-aspected, low-cost, and perfect for his situation.