Zero maintained his composure as he stared at the sprawling city walls that encased the Landhart clan's territory. Outside the carriage window, the city unfolded—a vast landscape of tall, proud buildings made from willow branches and river clay, their silhouettes reaching skyward against the morning sky.
This was the heart of the Landhart clan: a family of elite aura sword masters, renowned for their unmatched martial arts and swordsmanship. For generations, they had safeguarded the Armania Continent, their symbol proudly displayed on banners: two griffins flanking crossed swords beneath a sun and crescent moon.
Famous not only for their martial prowess but also for their vast industrial resources and political influence, the Landharts had earned a reputation for ruthlessness. Their motto, "Swallow or be swallowed," reflected their cutthroat approach to maintaining power and eliminating rivals.
Zero couldn't help but mutter to himself, "What a mess... this is going to be a storm of stress I didn't ask for." His eyes wandered over the ever-growing city, but his mind was occupied by darker thoughts.
The current patriarch, Zero's great-grandfather, was the oldest living patriarch in the history of the Armania Continent, perhaps even the oldest human patriarch in the Memphis dimension. Yet despite his longevity, the position was not his to keep forever. The throne was a coveted prize, and many were vying for it. Zero had no illusions about inheriting the title—he was a mere pawn in a game of power. In fact, his exile was no accident. He was a threat, too dangerous for the clan to tolerate, so they cast him aside, far from their reach.
"Why'd it have to be this way?" Zero thought. "It's a shame the original owner couldn't see through it all. I'll make sure to live this life to the fullest—his name won't be tarnished by these leeches."
His father's gaze lingered on him, sharp and penetrating. The air between them grew heavy as Zero felt an unsettling chill. There was something in his father's eyes—a flicker of something hidden, a warning he couldn't ignore.
An hour passed before the carriage finally arrived at the mansion grounds, and Zero's unease deepened. His father's grandfather, Mr. Don Landhart, resided here. The patriarch in waiting, Don was not just an old man but a ruthless, cunning force to be reckoned with. No one dared oppose him—he would crush anyone in his way without hesitation.
Zero's breath caught in his throat as they approached the mansion. The architecture was grand, ancient stonework standing proudly as a testament to centuries of wealth and power. The gardens surrounding the mansion were meticulously tended, every plant in perfect bloom. As they entered the grand halls, Zero marveled at the artwork lining the walls—paintings and sculptures that seemed to echo the family's long and storied history.
They were quickly ushered into Mr. Don's study, where he awaited them. The tension between Uno and Don was palpable. Despite their familial bond, both were keenly aware of each other's ambitions. They were rivals in their own right.
"Uno, you finally came to see me," Don said, his voice smooth but laced with an edge. "What's this about? Are you still asking me to step down from the race for patriarch? If that's your request, I'm afraid I'll have to refuse. We both want to achieve greatness, don't we?"
Uno's face remained impassive. "That's not why I'm here."
Don's eyes shifted toward Zero, who was standing quietly by his father's side. "And who is this? Your son, I presume?"
Uno nodded, a faint, almost reluctant smile tugging at his lips. "Yes, this is Zero."
Don's sharp gaze lingered on the teenager, taking in his features and presence. "Is he truly your son?" he asked, his voice curious yet cautious.
Uno hesitated. "There's something strange about him. His body constitution—there's an aura within him that's... unique. I've never seen anything like it."
Don's interest piqued, his demeanor shifted slightly. "What do you mean by unique?"
"He has a deep, lingering aura hidden in his spiritual core. It's subtle, but it's there. I can't quite explain it, but it's something... noteworthy."
Don leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. "Interesting. This boy could be more than we initially thought."
Zero stood silently, caught between the weight of their scrutiny. He had no idea what they were talking about, but one thing was certain: they were eyeing him like a rare treasure, something to be exploited, something that could serve their purposes.
He wanted to laugh bitterly at his own situation. Troublesome doesn't even begin to cover it.