The birthday finally ended on a surprising note.
Since Marquoc's intervention, nobody dared make a single unpleasant remark. The rest of
the ceremony proceeded in a tense but respectful silence.
Arthur returned quietly with his mother, who walked beside him with a face glowing with
pride. Her blue eyes shone with contained tears—tears of joy, disbelief, hope.
She never could have imagined the situation could change so dramatically. And yet, that's
exactly what had just happened.
Her son—her Arthur, the despised bastard—had just received a favor from the Family Head
himself.
My little treasure… You're extraordinary.
A few hours later — Marquoc's private office
In a sumptuously decorated room, lit by the dancing light of a crackling fireplace, two men
faced each other.
They looked strikingly similar—immaculate white hair, intense scarlet red eyes, noble and
authoritative features. Practically identical, except for one detail: one was obviously younger,
more handsome, and radiated an aura of absolute power that made the other seem
almost… ordinary in comparison.
Marquoc Berher, Family Head, was calmly sipping a glass of amber wine, comfortably
settled in a leather armchair.
Aldric Berher, his younger brother, stood before him, arms crossed, face tight with barely
contained frustration.
"What does all this mean, Marquoc?" Aldric asked in a tense voice.
"Why did you grant this
favor to Arthur?"
He narrowed his eyes with suspicion.
"Don't tell me you actually like him. I know you too well to believe that. You never do
anything without a reason. And this sudden 'generosity' toward a bastard… it's going to
create more problems than solutions.
"
Marquoc lazily swirled the wine in his glass, watching the amber reflections dance in the
firelight.
"What are you talking about, Aldric?" he said with a light smile.
"I'm simply giving an
opportunity to my nephew. Isn't that my role as an uncle?"
"Cut the crap,
" Aldric interrupted sharply.
"Tell me exactly what's going on, brother.
"
Marquoc's smile slowly faded. His face became serious—almost grave.
He set his glass on the coffee table with a delicate click.
"Very well,
" he said calmly.
"Since you insist.
"
He rose from his armchair and approached the window, contemplating the estate that
stretched as far as the eye could see under the twilight sky.
"The situation is much more complex than you think, Aldric. Tell me…
"
He turned his head slightly toward his brother.
"How long has it been since any child in our clan awakened a bloodline worth mentioning?"
Aldric frowned, thrown off by the sudden change of subject.
"Among my children, only my first son, Eric, manifested a decent bloodline,
" he replied after
a moment's hesitation.
"But aside from him, nobody else in the young generation has
managed to awaken anything significant.
"Marquoc nodded slowly.
"Exactly. And even me…
"
He raised his hand, observing the blue particles that naturally danced around his fingers.
"The bloodline I possess, as powerful as it may be, was initially comparable to our father's.
Nothing more. I developed it, refined it, pushed it beyond its natural limits through decades
of relentless training.
"
His red eyes hardened.
"But our descendants? They're born with weakened bloodlines. Diluted. Each generation is
weaker than the last.
"
He turned completely to face Aldric.
"At this rate, Aldric, we won't last long. The two other great families on the continent—the
Tartles and the Wertos—are already eyeing our lands. They know we're the weakest of the
three families.
"
Aldric stiffened but didn't contest this brutal statement.
"If we don't find descendants capable of carrying our legacy,
" Marquoc continued in a cold
voice,
"what do you think will happen? We'll be absorbed. Destroyed. Erased from history.
"
Silence settled in, heavy and oppressive.
Aldric swallowed hard.
"But Arthur…
" He shook his head with disbelief.
"He's only three years old. He hasn't even
awakened his mana core, let alone any bloodline. Why him?"
Marquoc's smile returned—but this time, it was a different smile. Dangerous. Excited.
"Exactly.
"
He approached Aldric, his red eyes gleaming with disturbing intensity.
"When I looked at that child… when our eyes met… I felt my bloodline stir.
"
Aldric's eyes widened.
"What?"
"My bloodline, Aldric. It reacted to his presence. As if it recognized something in him.
"
Marquoc placed a hand on his brother's shoulder.
"I could tell he's awakened the authentic bloodline, the pure bloodline of our clan. The one
that's existed since the beginning.
"
"That's impossible,
" Aldric breathed.
"He's only three years old. Bloodlines only awaken after
the mana core is formed, around ten or eleven at the earliest.
"
"You're right,
" Marquoc agreed.
"He hasn't fully awakened it to 100%. But I saw glimpses.
Fragments. When he looked at me with those eyes…
"
He paused dramatically.
"When he reaches the appropriate age and forms his core, he'll fully awaken this legendary
bloodline. The bloodline that hasn't appeared in over a century.
"
Aldric shook his head, refusing to believe it.
"You're talking about…
"
"The Ethereal Bloodline,
" Marquoc confirmed.
"The same bloodline through which our father
reached where he is now. The bloodline that allowed him to reach Paragon rank.
"
Aldric's face became ashen.
"How… How can you be sure? You bet everything on a simple intuition?"
Marquoc smiled with absolute confidence.
"Didn't you feel your own bloodline stir in his presence?"
Aldric hesitated, then shook his head.
"No. I didn't feel anything like that.
""Exactly,
" Marquoc said triumphantly.
"Because your bloodline is of a lower rank than his. It
can't recognize it.
"
He stepped away again, his blue particles swirling more intensely.
"But me… When he looked at me, I felt all my mana particles move. My entire body woke up,
as if someone—or something—was observing me beyond the physical veil.
"
He turned abruptly.
"And there's only one thing that can provoke such a reaction in me: a spiritual ability.
"
Aldric's eyes widened, finally understanding.
"You mean…
"
"Spiritual Vision,
" Marquoc confirmed.
"And what, in our bloodline, is intrinsically linked to the
spirit and perception beyond the physical world?"
"The Ethereal Bloodline,
" Aldric murmured, incredulous.
"Exactly. This child possesses that bloodline. He hasn't completely awakened it, but he's
already manifested the eyes.
"
Marquoc crossed his arms, his expression becoming strategic, calculating.
"When he starts absorbing mana and forming his core, we'll have a descendant who'll
surpass everything this generation has produced. Potentially one of the greatest talents in
our clan's history.
"
He pointed a finger at Aldric.
"But for this child to truly be useful to us, we must attach him to the clan. He must have the
best support possible. And above all…
"
His eyes hardened.
"
…he must feel an emotional attachment to this family. He must want to serve us, protect us,
elevate us.
"
He laughed bitterly.
"And from everything I saw today—the contempt, the humiliations, the rejection—if you all
continue with your 'blood purity' bullshit and your stupid prejudices in such a delicate
situation, then you're just blind.
"
Aldric clenched his fists but said nothing.
Marquoc continued, his voice rising slightly.
"Don't you understand? There are plenty of bastards in this world who possess exceptional
powers! The other families have all had powerful descendants from secondary bloodlines.
And there are even rumors that children with primordial bloodlines or extraordinary gifts were
recently born among the Tartles and Wertos.
"
He slammed his fist on the table.
"How do you expect us to compete if we reject our own potential because of stupid class
prejudices?! We need someone capable of supporting this generation. And this child, Arthur,
is our best hope.
"
He pointed at Aldric again.
"When he showed his eyes to me—those eyes that see—I understood. Pay more attention
to him, Aldric. Stop treating him like trash. Because if you don't…
"
Marquoc smiled coldly.
"
…I'll do it myself. And I'll tear him from your estate to raise him in mine.
"
Aldric remained silent for a long moment, digesting his brother's words.
Finally, he sighed heavily.
"I… I still can't completely believe it. That you're basing all this on a simple impression.
"
"It's not an impression,
" Marquoc corrected firmly.
"It's a certainty. My bloodline never makes
mistakes about these things.
"Aldric shook his head.
"I hope for your sake you're right, brother. Because if you're wrong…
"
"I'm not wrong,
" Marquoc interrupted with absolute confidence.
He smiled—a disturbing, almost predatory smile.
"Trust me, Aldric. In two years, when that child enters the First Training Camp, everyone will
understand.
"
His red eyes gleamed intensely.
"Arthur Berher isn't just a bastard. He's the future of our clan.
"
Meanwhile — Arthur's room
Arthur lay in his small bed, staring at his room's ceiling in the half-light. His mother had just
tucked him in with infinite tenderness, and she was now sitting on the edge of the mattress,
gently stroking his black hair.
"Did you see, Arthur?" she said with a radiant smile, her eyes shining with tears of joy.
"You
must always thank your uncle. You must never forget this favor he granted you.
"
She squeezed his small hands in hers.
"The First Training Camp is a place made only for children born into the main family—the
children of legitimate wives and high-ranking secondary wives. Even your twin brothers had
trouble getting permission to participate.
"
Her expression became slightly worried.
"It won't be easy for you, sweetheart. It'll be very hard. They'll probably be… hostile. But I'm
sure my child is very mature and intelligent. I know you'll manage, won't you?"
She hugged him, pressing him against her chest.
"I'm so proud of you, Arthur. So proud.
"
Arthur looked up at her and smiled—a sincere, warm smile.
As long as she smiles like that…
He tightened his embrace slightly around his mother's neck.
In any case, in this world, unlike the other where I was an orphan… even if there are
bastards here who give me a bit of a headache, I have my mother. Someone I can really
count on. Someone who loves me unconditionally.
As long as she's here, I don't need anything else.
But as his mother continued whispering tender words to him, another thread of thought
unwound in Arthur's mind—a much colder, much more analytical thread.
But I don't know why this Family Head upset all the fundamental principles just for me.
There's definitely something behind it.
His red eyes stared at the ceiling with an intensity that didn't suit a three-year-old.
I have to be careful. What my previous life taught me is that nothing is free in this world.
Every opportunity hides something. This is suspicious.
He mentally replayed Marquoc's charming smile, his flattering words, his falsely casual
attitude.
Plus, I know this kind of person. Smiling, giving big gifts, playing the generous uncle… But
it's exactly the kind of person who never does anything for free.
There's always a price. Always.
Arthur sighed mentally.
Whatever. I hope I can figure out his true intentions someday. For now, I'll just take
advantage of the opportunity he gave me.
He closed his eyes, listening to his mother's steady heartbeat as she gently rocked him.
In any case, I don't have much to lose right now. I'm already at the bottom of the hierarchy.
The only direction possible is up.An almost imperceptible smile stretched his lips.
Two years. In two years, I'll enter this famous First Training Camp. And there…
…I'll show them what the "bastard" they despise so much is really worth.
"Sleep well, my treasure,
" Anastasia murmured, placing a kiss on his forehead.
She rose gently and left the room, closing the door behind her with a delicate click.
Arthur remained alone in the darkness.
And in that darkness, his red eyes glowed faintly—like two burning embers in the night.
Let the game begin