It was dawn in the Redmond family estate, and the sound of clashing steel echoed through the courtyard. The sharp clangs of swordplay mixed with the grunts of warriors practicing, as the best swordsmen in the kingdom honed their skills under the first rays of the sun. Among them, stood the eldest Redmond son, Caine, towering over the rest with his flawless technique and brutal strength. The sight was awe-inspiring to anyone who watched, but for Ryn Redmond, the youngest of the siblings, it was a painful reminder of his place in the family.
Ryn stood in the shadows, watching his brothers train. His fingers clenched tightly around the worn handle of his practice sword. He could feel the weight of his family's legacy crushing him. The Redmonds were the most powerful swordsmen on the continent, protectors of the kingdom, revered by nobles and commoners alike. But Ryn was different. The third son, born weak, with neither the strength nor the talent of his older brothers. His swordsmanship was laughable, his speed clumsy, and his technique full of holes.
"Hey, little runt! What are you doing lurking there like a rat?" Caine's voice boomed across the courtyard. Ryn flinched, his heart sinking. "Come here and let me see if you've improved at all. You might actually be useful as a training dummy."
The other trainees snickered as Ryn hesitated, gripping his sword tighter. He knew he stood no chance, but refusing would only invite further ridicule.
"I'm coming," Ryn muttered, forcing himself to step into the light. His body moved on instinct, driven more by shame than bravery. Caine's imposing figure loomed over him as he approached, his brothers watching with amusement.
"You know, little brother," Caine smirked, raising his blade, "it's a disgrace that someone like you carries the Redmond name. But I suppose every great family has its disappointments."
Ryn barely had time to react as Caine lunged forward, his blade moving faster than Ryn could follow. The wooden sword in Ryn's hand was knocked aside, and the force of the blow sent him sprawling onto the ground. Pain shot through his body, but it was the sting of humiliation that hurt the most.
"Useless," Caine spat, turning away. "You'll never be a true Redmond."
Ryn lay on the ground, staring up at the sky. The words cut deep, deeper than any wound a sword could inflict. He had heard them all his life, from his brothers, from his father, even from the household servants who whispered behind his back. In a family that revered strength, Ryn was invisible—a burden to be ignored.
"Why even bother…" he whispered to himself, pushing himself up. His body ached, but it was the dull ache of familiar failure.
Without another word, Ryn stumbled away from the courtyard, leaving the laughter and training behind. His feet carried him aimlessly through the winding halls of the Redmond estate, a place he had lived his entire life but never felt truly at home. The grand tapestries of his ancestors stared down at him, each one depicting the heroic feats of Redmond swordsmen who had defended the kingdom for generations. His eyes lingered on the largest tapestry, showing the legendary hero, Soren Redmond, said to be the strongest of them all. But even his name had faded into obscurity, his deeds nothing more than stories whispered in passing.
As Ryn wandered, he found himself in an unfamiliar part of the estate. The stone walls were older here, the air damp with the scent of age. He hadn't meant to come this far, but something drew him deeper into the shadows. The hall was narrow and winding, unlike the grand, open spaces of the main estate. Dust coated the floor, and cobwebs clung to the corners.
And then, he saw it—a door, half-hidden behind an ancient tapestry. It was small and unassuming, as if it hadn't been opened in centuries. Curiosity sparked within him, a flicker of something he hadn't felt in a long time. Without thinking, Ryn pulled the tapestry aside and pushed the door open.
Inside, the room was dark and cold, the stone walls bare except for a single, massive bookshelf. But there, lying in the center of the room on a pedestal, was a book—a grimoire. Ryn furrowed his brow. Magic? In the house of Redmond? It made no sense. The Redmonds prided themselves on their strength with the sword, not sorcery. Magic was seen as beneath them.
Drawn in, Ryn stepped closer, his hand hovering over the ancient tome. The air around it felt charged, almost alive. Without fully understanding why, he reached out and touched the cover.
The moment his fingers brushed the leather, the room seemed to shift. A low hum filled the air, and the grimoire glowed faintly. Ryn jerked his hand back in surprise, but the book wouldn't let go. It pulled him closer, pages flipping open on their own, the strange symbols within lighting up as if they were awakening from a long slumber.
Suddenly, the room filled with blinding light. Ryn's mind swirled, overwhelmed by a flood of visions, memories not his own. Battles fought by swordsmen long forgotten, techniques so advanced they bordered on the supernatural, abilities and skills that defied the very laws of the world—all of it surged into him.
And then, as quickly as it began, the light faded. The grimoire fell silent, its magic spent.
Ryn collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath. But something was different. He could feel it, a weight in his body he had never known before. His muscles thrummed with energy, and in his mind, countless techniques danced, movements and skills that should have taken years to master, all now his.
He stood, shakily at first, but with each step, his confidence grew. The weakest Redmond no longer.
Ryn clenched his fists, the power coursing through him. The long-forgotten chamber had awakened something within him, something even his proud family had buried in their pursuit of swordsmanship alone.
And now, it was his.
For the first time in his life, Ryn smiled. His time as the family's failure had ended.
Now, it was their turn to see who he really was.