The first rays of dawn pierced the heavy drapes, casting fractured light across the cold stone floor. Kael sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the tarnished bronze hand mirror resting in his palm. His reflection was sharp and pale, his silver hair catching the dim light like strands of frost. The storm-gray eyes staring back at him were tired, yet alert.
The Trial of Worth loomed ahead. It wasn't just a test of potential; it was a spectacle where the council and nobles gathered to dissect and humiliate the weak. Kael knew the original Kaelward had walked into it unaware, a lamb to the slaughter. That wasn't going to happen today.
He set the mirror down carefully, his hands lingering for a moment as he closed his eyes. "This is no longer about Kaelward. It's about survival."
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.
"Young master," Eron's voice was clear but emotionless, cutting through the silence. "The carriage awaits."
Kael straightened his coat, the black-and-silver fabric bearing the faded insignia of the Kaelward family crest. He'd seen it in the memories buried deep in his mind—a symbol once respected, now little more than a reminder of a house in decline. He adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves, ensuring the tailored lines hid the tension in his frame.
"Coming," he replied, his voice steady.
Eron stood by the door, his posture immaculate and his expression neutral. Yet, his eyes, sharp and calculating, betrayed his thoughts. Kael could feel the subtle weight of Eron's gaze, as though the man were appraising him, searching for cracks in his facade.
"The council will not wait long," Eron said as they walked. "They've been anticipating your arrival."
"I'm sure they have," Kael replied curtly, stepping into the carriage without waiting for assistance. He settled into the plush seat, his fingers tapping idly against the armrest as the wheels began to turn.
The city blurred past the windows—cobbled streets lined with stone buildings, their architecture a mix of function and faded grandeur. The Kaelward estate was on the outskirts, far removed from the central districts where power congregated. Fitting, he thought, for a family that had fallen from grace.
Eron sat across from him, silent. Kael met his gaze briefly, the butler's impassive mask giving nothing away. Eron had been one of the most enigmatic characters in The Sovereign's Fall, a man whose true motives remained hidden even as he played both sides. Kael made a mental note to keep Eron at arm's length until he knew more.
The carriage jolted to a stop. "We've arrived, young master," Eron announced.
Kael stepped out, the morning sun casting long shadows across the amphitheater's massive facade. The structure was imposing, its walls etched with carvings of legendary heroes and mythical beasts. It looked less like a place of awakening and more like an arena where gladiators fought for survival.
The crowd murmured as Kael ascended the marble steps. Nobles in richly embroidered robes filled the stands, their gazes cold and curious. Whispers followed him like a tide, each word laced with disdain or pity.
"That's the Kaelward boy?"
"I thought he'd be taller."
"Rumors say his family can barely hold onto their lands."
Kael ignored them, his expression calm. He focused on the task ahead, scanning the platform where the trials would take place. The crystal rested at its center, its faint blue glow pulsing like a heartbeat. The other heirs stood nearby, some fidgeting nervously, others exuding confidence born of privilege and power.
Kael recognized a few faces—figures who had loomed large in the novel. A rival who would soon meet his downfall. A future traitor, his smug smile already grating. Each of them was a piece on the board, but Kael wasn't playing by the old rules anymore.
The herald's voice echoed across the amphitheater. "Today, the heirs of noble blood will face the Trial of Worth! Each shall step forward to awaken their potential, and the council shall judge their worthiness."
The heirs approached the crystal one by one. Each touch of the stone brought a flash of light, a proclamation of their potential and skill, and a ripple of approval or disappointment from the crowd.
Kael watched carefully, observing the reactions of the council members. Their expressions were subtle—nods, frowns, the occasional flicker of surprise—but they revealed much about their expectations and biases.
"Next," the herald called, his voice carrying an edge of anticipation.
Kael stepped forward, the platform's smooth surface cool beneath his boots. He could feel the weight of countless eyes bearing down on him, a tangible pressure that threatened to crush his composure.
The crystal pulsed brighter as he placed his hand on it. A surge of energy shot through him, sharp and electric, making his muscles tense and his vision blur.
The herald's voice trembled as he read the results. "S-level potential!"
Gasps rippled through the crowd. S-level potential was rare, a mark of exceptional latent power. For a brief moment, Kael felt the weight of their scorn lift, replaced by something closer to awe.
But it didn't last.
"Skill: Infinite Nexus," the herald continued, his tone faltering.
Confusion spread through the crowd like wildfire.
"What kind of skill is that?"
"It means he can acquire an unlimited number of skills," the herald explained, "but... he cannot generate skills from his genesis ability."
The crowd erupted into laughter.
"A useless skill!"
"All that potential wasted on a failure!"
Kael stood still, his face an unreadable mask. The laughter washed over him, their mockery biting but failing to reach the depths of his resolve. Inside, his mind was racing.
Infinite Nexus. A skill with no immediate use, worthless by the standards of this world. But Kael wasn't bound by their standards. He knew the rules of the game, and he knew how to break them.
As the laughter subsided, Kael raised his head, his gray eyes locking onto the council. Their expressions were mixed—some dismissive, others intrigued.
"This trial isn't over," Kael thought. "Let them underestimate me. It'll make my rise all the sweeter."