Darius's gaze bore into Adam like a sharpened blade.
"So. You're finally awake." His deep voice rumbled across the hall, steady and commanding. "I was beginning to think my son had turned into a lazy fool."
Adam's chest tightened. His father's presence hadn't changed at all. That same aura of authority. The same heavy pressure that made even grown men bow their heads in silence.
Once, Adam had admired him. He had looked up to this man, believing every word, every lesson.
But now?
Now, he saw the monster hidden behind the mask.
"…Yes, Father," Adam forced the words out, lowering his head. His fists clenched, but he kept them hidden behind his back.
"You seem a bit… different today," Darius said, stepping closer.
Adam's heartbeat quickened. His mind screamed at him to run; his legs trembled. He was afraid of the man standing before him.
Noticing Adam trying to back away, Selene stepped in front of him, shielding him from her uncle's gaze.
"He had a nightmare, Uncle. I think it left him a little shaken."
Darius's gaze shifted to her, his cold eyes softening into something almost like love, just for an instant, before snapping back to their usual cruelty.
It lasted only a moment, but Adam caught it.
'This sick fucker… No, this time I won't let this bastard ruin Selene,' Adam thought, anger boiling in his chest.
Clearing his throat, Darius returned his focus to Adam. "Nightmares are a symptom of fear, and fear is the product of weakness. A Veynar does not show weakness."
Without waiting for a response, he turned, his black robes sweeping silently across the polished stone floor. "Come. The meal is waiting."
Adam followed, his hands trembling at his sides. Selene gave him a warm glance before whispering,
"Don't worry. The only reason Uncle is so harsh on you is because he loves you more than anything in this world."
Adam tried to smile back, but the words she spoke twisted in his chest. The sentence was so infuriating he couldn't even look her in the eyes.
'The girl who will be tormented by this man, her own uncle, day in and day out, was calling this monster loving. How ironic.' His stomach churned in disgust.
'This monster in front of me is not capable of the emotion called love… I even hate looking in the mirror, because it reminds me that I carry his blood, that I am his seed.'
The thought lingered, burning in his mind as he followed Darius down the corridor to the dining hall.
The long corridor was lined with portraits of ancestors of the house of Veynar. Each one carried the same sharp eyes and the same black hair.
The dining hall had walls made of polished wood and a floor made of cold marble. A long table was adorned with silverware, and a single candelabra was in the center of the vast room. Two servants stood by, heads bowed.
Darius took his seat first at the head. Selene sat at his right. Adam stood, uncertain, staring at the empty chair to Darius's left.
"Well?" Darius said, not looking at him. "Have you forgotten how to sit?"
Adam's mind immediately went blank, and he quickly took a seat.
The meal was completely silent except for the clink of silverware against porcelain.
After several minutes Darius spoke. "Your instructors tell me you have been neglecting your sword practice."
Adam froze.
That line. That exact line.
He'd heard it before.
When was it?
What did he say back then?
His thoughts scrambled for the memory, but it all came back to him in pieces.
'I said… I had other matters, didn't I? No. That was later. Or was it before he took Selene to the capital?'
Adam was too panicked to think straight.
Darius's knife scraped against the plate, the sound dragging him back to the present.
"I… was unwell," Adam said finally, forcing his voice steady. It wasn't the right answer; he knew it the moment it left his mouth.
Darius's knife stopped. "Unwell?" His tone was soft. "Do you know what happens to the unwell in this house, boy?"
Adam's jaw tightened. "Yes—"
"They die."
Darius cut the meat clean in half. "And do you know what we do with the weak after they die?"
Adam said nothing this time.
"We bury them," Darius said, finally lifting his eyes. "And then we forget their names."
The room fell silent. Even the servants froze mid-step.
Selene swallowed nervously. "Uncle, he didn't mean—"
"Silence." Darius's voice didn't rise, but it struck like thunder.
He turned back to Adam. "You carry my name, boy. That alone demands perfection. A single crack in your will, and the world will see us as no different from the filth we hunt."
Darius set his knife down with a soft clink.
He leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed on Adam. "This house has stood for centuries, built on the bones of monsters and the blood of those too weak to fight them. Our duty is not to live comfortably; it is to keep the dark from swallowing this land."
Adam said nothing. He knew that tone, half lecture, half threat.
Darius gestured toward the massive window behind him.
Beyond the glass, the world was pitch-black. There was no light, just a stretch of darkness broken by the glow of torches that a few houses and watchtowers burned, barely pushing back the dark. All of it sat safely behind the giant wall that surrounded the residential district.
"Out there lies Nightfall," he said. "The rest of the world calls it cursed. They say the sun abandoned it long ago. They whisper that even gods don't walk beneath its sky."
He looked back at Adam, his voice steady and commanding.
"But this land is ours. The Veynars were born in that darkness. We bled for it and built our name on it. While others sleep under the sun, we keep the night from swallowing them whole."
He lifted his cup and took a slow sip.
"In the west, nobles waste their lives in feasts and politics. Here, every breath is a battle."
The words coming out of his mouth didn't carry anger anymore; they carried a sense of pride.
Adam's eyes drifted to the window.
Always the same, he thought bitterly. "Night without dawn. Monsters without end. And the biggest one sits at the head of the table.'
Darius placed his cup down, the faint clink echoing through the hall. "It seems your instructor has grown far too lenient."
Adam blinked. "Instructor?"
"Sir Garron, wasn't it? The old fool's gone soft. I've seen the way he trains you—dull drills, no edge, no blood. He's raising a scholar, not a warrior. And when you falter, instead of breaking you, he runs to me like a coward with complaints. No spine, No guts"
Selene frowned. "Uncle, Sir Garron has been with our house for years—"
"Too many," Darius interrupted. "Loyalty doesn't excuse incompetence. From tomorrow, he's dismissed from your training."
Adam's stomach dropped.
That wasn't how it happened before.
In his first life, Garron trained him from childhood until his first expedition beyond the wall after getting his mark, the day the Veynars celebrated their heirs as men.
It wasn't supposed to change.
Darius finally looked at him. "You'll train under Sir Alaric from now on."
Adam froze. "…Sir Alaric?"
A small smirk tugged at Darius's mouth. "You've heard the name, I trust."
He had. Everyone had.
Sir Alaric, the Iron Fang of Nightfall. A man rumored to have fed his own newborn child to fire hounds for making too much noise.
Selene's face paled. "Uncle, that's too much. He's—"
"Effective," Darius said simply. "And that's all that matters. If Adam is to bear the Veynar crest, he'll learn what it means to bleed for it."
He stood, adjusting his gloves. "You'll report to the courtyard tomorrow. No more questions asked."
"Yes, Father," Adam said quietly.
Darius nodded once, his voice cold but firm. "A Veynar's worth isn't measured by what he endures, but by what he conquers. Remember that."
Without another word, he turned and left the hall, his footsteps echoing until they vanished beyond the door.
Selene let out a slow breath. "Sir Alaric… Why him? The man's a lunatic. Uncle shouldn't—"
"It's fine," Adam said, his tone steady.
But inside, his thoughts were a mess.
In his past life, he didn't meet Alaric until years later when the Dragonhearts invaded Nightfall.
But this…
This was too early.
That meeting was never supposed to happen now.
The timeline's shifting
Adam's gaze fell to the floor, his mind racing.
If Alaric was entering his life this soon, then everything after might happen differently.
He clenched his fists under the table. Good.
Maybe fate was giving him the chance to strike first this time.