[Are you ready now?]
The voice was dry, a faint whisper carried on the air, yet it emanated from a wisp of smoke that was invisible to the naked eye.
It came from a mysterious force hidden beneath the Garcia family residence.
[Once you're ready, call me.]
This was a sensation Ian had never experienced before.
Its name was Faith.
Of course, Ian had heard this name before—just moments after emerging from the basement. It had come to him through strange texts from the underground passage, and the haunting, almost compulsive need to draw blood from his palm with a dagger.
As his blood fell onto the intricate pattern etched into the stone, the voice emerged.
[I am one of the Seven Virtues, followers of the great Emperor of Kaistein.]
[Faith.]
[Are you the one who awakened me?]
But Ian couldn't answer.
A flash of blinding light erupted, followed by the collapse of the ceiling. When Ian opened his eyes again, he found himself back in his room, the voice and its overwhelming pressure vanished without a trace.
It left a mark instead.
A strange pattern remained on the floor, resembling a flame's scar. Likewise, Ian's palm bore the same symbol—like a bloodstained brand, etched into his skin.
In that moment, Ian believed he had inherited a powerful force.
But the truth was far more complicated.
[You who awakened me, call upon me now.]
As soon as Ian returned to his room, the smoke emanating from his body trembled violently. The energy within him surged, threatening to consume him if he didn't act swiftly.
It's a good thing I told Galon and the servants not to come in, Ian thought, furrowing his brow as he observed the wild, erratic mana in the air.
He felt an unsettling anxiety. After all, he knew little about this force.
At least give me a clue, Ian silently pleaded.
His eyes dropped to his palm, where the pattern from the basement was still etched into his skin.
Testing something, he stepped onto the floor—right atop the pattern engraved there.
Then, something astonishing occurred.
The moment he grimaced, feeling a sharp sting in his palm, red liquid oozed from the mark and began to seep into the floor's pattern.
A blinding beam of light erupted from the symbol.
Flash!
Instinctively, Ian raised his hand to shield his eyes from the searing brilliance. When the light finally faded, he couldn't help but gape in awe.
This...
The room had transformed into a pure white space. The furniture and fixtures had vanished, replaced by an ethereal void. In the center stood a figure—a man of powerful build, his face unreadable. He wore heavy, gleaming armor that appeared almost otherworldly.
The man's form was radiant, as though made of light itself.
It's like a being forged from light, Ian thought, his mind reeling. The man's blinding aura was reminiscent of the paladins from the Holy Kingdom, distant and divine.
Unable to resist, Ian spoke up.
"Who are you?"
Though Ian had some inkling, the answer was unclear, and he needed confirmation. Was this truly the power Karan had wielded, and would it be something Ian could control for himself?
The figure responded with a voice as steady as it was grave.
[I am Faith. One of the Seven Virtues.]
"Faith?"
The name echoed in Ian's mind. He had heard it in the ancient tales of the First Emperor of Kaistein, the one who had conquered two continents. While the Kaistein Kingdom was now a shadow of its former self, the First Emperor's legacy and his Seven Virtues still held significant weight.
Ian hesitated, then asked the question that had been gnawing at him.
"If you are Faith, then you must be the legendary Sword of the First Emperor."
The figure's silence was heavy.
Finally, he spoke again.
[State your name.]
Ian answered without hesitation.
"Ian Kaistein, the Seventh Prince of Kaistein."
[Hmm. You are not my descendant.]
As Ian's vision adjusted to the man's brilliance, his breath caught in his throat.
The Duke?
The man's youthful face was unmistakable—he looked exactly like a portrait Ian had once seen of the Duke in his office. The realization struck Ian like a thunderclap.
Could this... could this be an ancestor of Duke Garcia?
Shock and awe gripped him as he realized the implications. One of the legendary Seven Virtues was tied to Garcia's lineage, something the Duke had never mentioned.
But then, anxiety followed.
Does this mean I'm not worthy of this power?
Before he could dwell on that thought, the figure spoke once more.
[It matters not that you are not my descendant. In fact, you, who have proven your bloodline, may be more qualified than my own kin.]
"My blood?"
The man did not elaborate further. Instead, he raised a sword of pure light, its blade crackling with divine energy. He held it aloft, not to strike, but to make a declaration.
[I grant you my power in accordance with the contract of the Seven Virtues.]
Suddenly, the sword released a burst of light, showering Ian in its radiance. As the light enveloped him, Ian felt a searing pain, a heat coursing through his veins.
My body... it's burning.
But the voice of Faith spoke again.
[Your vessel is young and frail, so I cannot bestow all my strength upon you yet.]
Ian gritted his teeth as the pain intensified, but Faith continued.
[However, as your faith grows stronger and more diverse, so too will my power within you.]
The figure's eyes gleamed with an otherworldly intensity.
[I will grant you what you deserve, according to the faith you possess now.]
In an instant, the power surged through Ian's body, overwhelming him. He staggered, his head spinning, as he fought to remain upright.
But then, a familiar voice pierced through the haze.
"Now, what is my cute little brother going to do?"
Ian froze.
The Second Prince?
He recognized the voice immediately, though it should not have been able to reach him here.
The clarity in his hearing startled him—he could even hear the faintest sounds, like ants crawling across the floor. His body hummed with newfound energy.
Is this... Karan's power?
Faith appeared before him once more, nodding gravely.
[It is still weak, but it will serve you well.]
The figure began to dissipate into light, slowly merging with Ian's form.
But just before disappearing completely, Ian heard the words clearly:
[Those with
Meanwhile, in the Duke's castle...
The Second Prince sipped his wine, gazing out over the terrace of the Duke's grandest room. His expression was one of quiet satisfaction, though his knight, a member of the Lavaltor order, couldn't shake his unease.
"Your Highness, do you truly think it wise to...?"
The Second Prince cut him off with a calm smile.
"What's the harm in teaching a naïve boy a lesson?"
The knight hesitated. "But he's—"
"Barely trained, yes. He's a child, still unfit for battle. And I'll deal with him just fine." The prince's voice dropped to a sneer. "Don't worry, I'm not worried about a weakling."
The knight sighed, clearly unconvinced.
"Remember, Your Highness, both of you are unprotected in this duel."
A moment of tension passed before the prince's lips curled into a dark smile. He wasn't worried in the least. After all, he had prepared for this moment.
The Second Prince gestured to the corner of the room where a sword gleamed ominously, black and red.
The sacred sword of Kaistein.
It was said that only the true heir could wield it, yet the Second Prince found it a fitting symbol for the weakling to be tested. He reveled in the thought of Ian being humiliated.
But Ian was no fool.
The next morning...
The Second Prince waited eagerly in the training hall, though his knight still appeared concerned.
"Remember the Duke's orders," the knight reminded, his voice low and strained.
The Second Prince chuckled, dismissing the concern.
"Relax. I'm not here to kill him. But if something happens... it's not my fault."
As the Duke's knight fell silent, Ian entered.
The Second Prince greeted him with a bright smile.
"All ready for a special lesson before the legitimation ceremony?"
Ian raised an eyebrow.
"What kind of training?"
The prince's eyes gleamed with malicious amusement.
"First, let's take a look at your pathetic blade."
He motioned to a knight, who stepped forward with a gleaming sword in hand.
"Take it. A gift from your brother."
Ian's eyes widened.
Is that... the royal family's sacred sword?
He knew the truth—it wasn't a gift out of kindness. The prince was toying with him, planning to humiliate him in front of everyone.
The prince's cruel smile grew as he unsheathed the sword.
"I've heard you've been training. But can you even wield this?"
Ian tightened his grip.
"Let's see."