As the days turned into months, I began to accept my new life with the Flower family. At first, the weight of my past life felt like a heavy cloak draped over my shoulders, suffocating me in moments of quiet reflection. But as I trained and laughed with Kira and Cedric, I realized that this family, despite its complexities, was where I belonged. Their warmth and laughter began to chip away at the walls I had built, and I found myself yearning to embrace the legacy I had inherited.
Yet, beneath the surface of our joyful moments, a darkness loomed over the castle. News from the capital was troubling. Whispers of noble families scheming and maneuvering for power reached our ears, each plot more intricate than the last. I could feel the tension in the air whenever the knights gathered to discuss the threats we faced. The noble houses, driven by ambition, sought to manipulate the ongoing struggles for their own gain. It was a game of shadows, and we were caught in its web.
The Flower family, led by my parents—Duke Raion and Duchess Dalia—was powerful, but their position in the border region of the empire made us vulnerable. My father's strength in combat was renowned, yet political acumen was equally essential in these treacherous times. As I observed their interactions with advisers and knights, I began to grasp the layers of responsibility that came with our title.
The hierarchy within the family was both strict and respected, structured by levels of power that determined one's status and influence. At the top were my parents, the Duke and Duchess, who represented the pinnacle of our house's might. Below them were the knights, categorized by their prowess:
Bronze Knights (Levels 1-3): The foundation of our military might, skilled fighters but lacking the rare blood powers that defined higher ranks.
Level 1 (Basic): Novice fighters still in training.
Level 2 (Intermediate): Skilled in basic swordsmanship, with some training in magic.
Level 3 (Advanced): Competent knights capable of holding their own in battle.
Silver Knights (Levels 4-6): The backbone of our military, each with growing mastery of blood powers.
Level 4 (Basic): Well-trained, capable of minor blood magic.
Level 5 (Intermediate): Stronger warriors with advanced combat skills.
Level 6 (Advanced): Commanders of lower ranks, often leading small squads.
Gold Knights (Levels 7-9): The elite, the true guardians of our family.
Magic
Level (Basic 1-3): Highly skilled, possessing significant blood abilities.
Level 8 (Intermediate4-6): Veterans with years of combat experience and strategic minds.
Level 9 (Advanced 7-9): Legends in their own right, feared and respected throughout the empire.
Archimage (10): Similar to MAX Gold Knights
Grand Mage (11): Similar to Knight Terrenals (GrandFather of Raimon)
Above these ranks lay my parents, who existed in a realm beyond even the Gold Knights. They were known as the Celestial Level, a classification whispered about in awe. It was said that only the purest bloodlines, those descended from ancient heroes of the first uprising against dark forces, could even dream of reaching such heights. In a world where strength was paramount, those at the Celestial Level were akin to modern-day nuclear weapons—powerful beyond comprehension.
As I absorbed this knowledge, I felt a weight pressing down on me. I was still so young, yet the expectations were palpable. If I wanted to rise within this structure, I would need to cultivate my skills diligently. My blood powers were awakening, but I had to master them to protect my family and stand alongside my parents.
The rumors from the capital kept nagging at my mind. I couldn't shake the feeling that the noble families were plotting something significant—something that could threaten our home. The border region was a volatile place, with demonic beasts lurking just beyond the defenses we worked tirelessly to maintain. Every day brought new reports of attacks, and every night, I lay awake, imagining what would happen if they breached our walls.
"Raimon," Kira said one afternoon, breaking me from my thoughts as we practiced together in the training yard. "You seem lost in thought again. What's bothering you?"
I paused, glancing at the sky where dark clouds were beginning to gather. "I worry about what's happening in the capital. The nobles are like wolves, circling our family. We must be ready for anything."
She nodded, her expression serious. "We'll stand together, won't we? We'll protect our family, no matter what."
"Yes," I replied, feeling my resolve strengthen. "Together."
With that shared promise, I felt a flicker of hope ignite within me. Whatever schemes awaited us, I was determined to rise to the challenge and protect the legacy of the Flower family. As long as we faced the darkness as one, I knew we would emerge stronger on the other side.
As the years flowed by in the Flower household, life continued to unfold in unexpected ways. Two years after my rebirth, our family welcomed a new addition in the form of twin siblings—two bundles of joy born from my father's concubine. While I had initially felt a flicker of apprehension at the thought of sharing my parents' attention, I quickly found that our family dynamic remained harmonious and loving.
From the moment they arrived, Kira and Cedric had made it clear that our home was big enough to embrace all its inhabitants. The twins, a boy and a girl named Guillermina and Edward, were energetic and full of life, often causing delightful chaos in the castle. Their laughter filled the air, turning the quiet halls of our home into a vibrant playground.
What struck me most was how my parents balanced their attention between the twins and me. My father, though a fierce warrior, became a gentle giant when holding little Guillermina in his arms, his laughter echoing as he played with them both. My mother, always the pillar of warmth, would often gather us together for story time, weaving tales of our ancestors and instilling in us a sense of pride and duty.
I never felt a sense of loss or jealousy; instead, I found myself stepping into a role I hadn't anticipated. I became their protector and mentor, teaching them the basics of swordplay and magic as soon as they could walk. Our practice sessions, filled with laughter and lighthearted bickering, brought us closer together.
"Come on, Edward! You can do better than that!" I would tease, dodging his clumsy attempts with a grin.
"Shut up, big brother!" he would retort, his face scrunching up in determination, sparking even more laughter.
The relationship among us was built on a foundation of love and mutual respect, which had been fostered by our parents. Our family dinners were lively affairs, filled with chatter, storytelling, and the occasional playful argument over who was the best at magic or swordplay. In these moments, I felt a deep sense of belonging, as if we were all pieces of a grand puzzle fitting perfectly together.
The castle itself buzzed with the energy of our growing family. The enchanted walls seemed to resonate with our joy, their ancient magic amplifying our laughter and love. I often marveled at how, despite the potential challenges of our unconventional family structure, we thrived. There was no animosity, no competition—just a shared commitment to one another.
As I watched my younger siblings grow, I realized that their presence only enriched my life. They inspired me to be better, to train harder, and to uphold the legacy of the Flower family. I felt a fierce sense of responsibility to guide them, knowing that together, we would navigate the challenges of our world, always united in our bond.
In this castle, love wasn't divided; it multiplied. And for that, I was profoundly grateful.