"Arthur, we were born to be heroes," my mother said, her voice carrying the weight of centuries of unseen history. "Every single generation, a Nightingale is born with the Gift that sits atop all others—Mythweaver."
The air between us felt thick, charged with something greater than mere revelation.
"Mythweaver," she continued, her blue eyes unblinking, "is the strongest possible Gift in existence. It surpasses every other Gift, and alongside that, every Nightingale is born with astonishing talent. Every Nightingale is trained in secret until they reach the level of a demigod."
I swallowed, trying to process the sheer weight of her words. "Every Nightingale… reaches that level?"
"No," she corrected, shaking her head. "Every two generations."
I frowned. "What?"
"While every Nightingale inherits Mythweaver, we are born in an alternating cycle. One generation produces a Nightingale who only reaches Immortal-rank—the next, one who ascends to Radiant-rank."
My fingers curled into fists. "But… order broke with me."
She nodded, a shadow passing through her gaze. "That too, is part of the design."
The way she said it sent a chill down my spine.
"I am too aware of it, Arthur," she admitted. "Regardless, we have always been the unsung heroes of humanity. Liam Kagu—he was the First Hero in the eyes of the Eastern continent. His public feats earned him that title. But while he fought against the Heavenly Demon, our ancestor was engaged in a greater battle."
Her next words shattered my breath.
"While Liam Kagu fought the Heavenly Demon, our ancestor single-handedly took down a Demon Duke and his battalion before they could attack Earth."
I stared at her, my mind struggling to comprehend the sheer scale of what she had just revealed.
"Arthur," my mother smiled, her black hair swaying in the night breeze. "We are the most illustrious, the most important family that no one knows about."
Her voice softened, yet held an undeniable certainty.
"We are the Nightingales."
A gust of wind swept across the balcony, carrying the weight of a thousand years of sacrifice.
The banquet had long since ended. I stood alone, staring at the vast cityscape beneath the Ashbluff estate, my thoughts a storm of revelations.
Nightingales—a family designed to save humanity.
The truth behind the Heavenly Demon.
The story of Tiamat, the last Radiant Dragon.
Too much. I had learned too much, too quickly.
"Arthur!"
I turned just in time to see Cecilia, Rachel, Seraphina, and Rin rushing toward me, their expressions a mix of concern and barely restrained fury.
"Hey," I greeted them with a light smile, though my mind was still distant, still processing.
"What did that bitch do?" Cecilia hissed, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinized me. Her gaze landed on the bruise on my neck, and her expression darkened.
Without a word, Rachel stepped forward, her light magic already shimmering at her fingertips.
"It won't work," I muttered.
The golden glow flared—then flickered out.
Rachel frowned. "What?"
She tried again.
Nothing.
"I can't believe that bitch used her magic for this," Rachel cursed.
"Wow," Cecilia muttered, raising an eyebrow. "The Saintess is cursing now?"
Rachel elbowed her in the ribs without missing a beat.
I exhaled, shaking my head at their antics, but my mind remained fixed on what I had learned tonight.
I had always suspected that something about my existence didn't make sense.
But now, I knew the truth.
We were never just a noble family.
We were never just another lineage.
We were created.
Designed.
For one purpose.
To stand at the threshold of extinction—and fight.
And I, Arthur Nightingale, was the crown jewel of the Nightingales.
The ultimate talent. The one designed to save humanity from its greatest crisis yet.
That was my purpose.
But purpose came with weight.
"You seem burdened," Seraphina murmured, her fingers tracing slow, soothing circles against my back.
I let out a breath. "I suppose I am."
"Is it because of…" she hesitated, her voice quieter, "Alyssara?"
My muscles tensed.
Alyssara.
Even now, even after everything I had just learned about my mother, my lineage, my supposed fate, she still lingered in my mind.
She was impossible to forget.
Her words clung to me like thorns buried beneath my skin, sharp and unrelenting.
She loves me. Not Art.
Not the Arthur she once knew. Me.
And yet—I still hate her.
I still want to kill her.
That has never changed.
It will never change.
Because her love isn't love.
It is possession. A claim. She wants all of me, regardless of my will.
It is twisted, suffocating, inescapable.
Something I could never reciprocate.
But even as I hardened my resolve, even as the hatred burned in my chest—I knew.
I knew that even imagining winning against her was far beyond my reach right now.
Alyssara Velcroix was too far ahead.
She was someone who could likely match Vorgath Ironmaw even if she were at the same mana rank as him.
That was what made her terrifying.
She was like me.
Someone who could jump ranks casually, someone whose relative power eclipsed her technical rank.
Vorgath Ironmaw had brushed against the level of a demigod, but that didn't mean he was at the level of a demigod I would become.
Because true demigods don't exist at low Radiant-rank.
The difference between what Vorgath was artificially granted through Infernal Armis and what I will become is vast.
There are levels to this.
And Alyssara is the same.
When I reach Radiant-rank, I will surpass the First Calamity—not just match him, but stand so far above him that our battle would have been a joke.
That is the importance of relative power.
But for now—Alyssara stands where I will one day stand.
And that makes her the greatest enemy I have ever known.
Art had done his best to train me. He had pushed me beyond limits I hadn't even known existed, forged me into something worthy of standing at the pinnacle of humanity. Rank 1. The title was mine now.
But even with all that, two years was not enough.
Not to reach the level of Alyssara Velcroix.
That was the sad truth.
No matter how far I had come, no matter how much I had fought, I was still beneath her.
"We will fight by your side too, Arthur."
Rin's voice cut through my thoughts. I turned, meeting her gaze—dark, resolute, unwavering.
"We stood with you against the First Calamity," she continued. "We'll stand with you against all of them. Always."
For a moment, I studied her.
There was no hesitation in her words. No doubt. Only a certainty that echoed in the hearts of all four of them—Rin, Cecilia, Seraphina, and Rachel.
I gave a slight nod. "I know."
Because they had already proven it.
Even in the face of a Calamity, even in a battle that should have ended in annihilation, they had fought.
And survived.
And because of that, so had I.
But survival wasn't enough.
Not anymore.
I had influence.
I had power.
And now, I had everything I needed to take the next step.
There was a thorn in my side, one that had been growing for far too long.
And before it could become something greater, something that would hinder my path in the future…
I would remove it.