Orion couldn't shake off the thoughts swirling in his mind as he stepped into the grand hall of their residence. The gentle glow of golden chandeliers illuminated the space, casting a warm radiance over the elegant furniture and finely woven carpets. Inside, Celia, Sera, and Elara sat together, their conversation pausing as their gazes turned toward him.
Celia's blue eyes softened. "Did everything go well?"
Orion nodded, walking over to a vacant couch and stretching slightly.
Sera tilted her head. "What did you and your father talk about?"
He gave a brief summary—his expected enrolment in a magic academy, his father's instructions regarding his brothers, and the impending arrival of guests. As soon as he mentioned that his father had allowed Elara to attend an academy as well, movement flashed before him.
"Really?!" Elara had jumped from her seat, excitement radiating from her like sunlight breaking through a storm. She quickly scooted beside Orion, gripping his arm with sparkling blue eyes. "Brother Orion! Is it true?" she asked, nearly vibrating with excitement. "Did Father really say I can attend a Magic Academy too?"
Orion glanced at her before smiling. "Yes, he did."
Elara let out a delighted cheer, bouncing in place. "That's amazing! I'll train even harder so we can be strong together!"
Her enthusiasm was infectious. Even Sera chuckled, resting her chin on her hand. "That's good. Now, you both have a goal to work toward." She smiled teasingly. "Just don't forget to protect your old mothers once you become strong."
Orion shook his head, amused. "You're not old, Mother Sera."
Sera flashed a triumphant grin at Celia. "See? My son still knows how to compliment me."
Celia's gentle laugh filled the room.
Elara, however, pounded her chest dramatically. "No need to worry! I'll become strong enough to protect both of you and Brother Orion!"
The room erupted in laughter at Elara's antics.
Celia, still smiling, reached out and gently caressed Orion's hair. "Son… you don't know how proud I am of you," she murmured.
Sera and Elara both looked at him with warmth in their eyes. Orion, for a moment, simply sat there, soaking in their affection. No matter how indifferent his father was or how dismissive his brothers acted, this—this love—was what truly mattered.
He clenched his fists subtly. I will become strong—not for them, but for myself and the ones who cherish me.
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After lunch, Orion made his way to the garden—the place where he always trained. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of earth and blooming flowers.
At the centre of the yard, an ancient oak tree stood tall, its branches stretching toward the sky like the arms of an old guardian. Beneath its shade, Orion settled into a meditative pose, his back straight and hands resting on his knees.
Beside him lay a decent, though unremarkable, sword.
He settled into a meditative posture beneath the tree, his back straight, legs crossed, and hands resting lightly on his knees. Closing his eyes, he let his breathing slow, attuning himself to the flow of mana in the air.
Mana—the lifeblood of cultivation—was an invisible force, yet Orion could feel it as clearly as the wind brushing against his skin. It danced around him, whispering through the leaves, settling into the earth, floating in the very air he breathed.
He focused, drawing the mana toward him. It seeped into his body, entering through the energy points along his skin before traveling into his meridians—those delicate yet vital pathways within his body.
The meridians… the foundation of all cultivation.
A cultivator without meridians was like a river without a path, unable to control its flow. These invisible pathways determined how well one could absorb, refine, and utilize mana. Without them, cultivation was impossible.
Orion's breathing steadied as he circulated the mana energy through his body. Each loop strengthened his foundation, his connection to the world around him growing clearer. The flow was steady, controlled.
Minutes passed. Then hours.
When he finally opened his eyes, a slow breath escaped his lips, a mist-like wisp of mana dispersing into the air.
He clenched his fists.
If I continue at this pace, I'll reach the second star soon… and before enrolling in the Academy, I should be able to reach the seventh or even eighth star of the Novice stage.
The Academy's minimum requirement was the fourth star of Novice. To many, breaking through the early stages was easy, but beyond the Novice level, the path of cultivation grew difficult. The transition to the Apprentice stage marked a true step into the realm of the strong.
That's when the real battle begins.
Orion sighed, letting his thoughts settle. His gaze drifted toward the sword lying beside him. Picking it up, he ran a hand over the blade, feeling its familiar weight. But despite its decent craftsmanship, it was nothing compared to what he had once wielded.
The Lunar Fang.
A sigh escaped him, his expression turning distant.
"In my past life… you never once failed me."
The Lunar Fang was his family's greatest treasure—a sword crafted from celestial steel, its blade shining with a silver glow. And its counterpart, the Solar Fang, belonged to Shia's family.
Both swords were made from the same legendary material, equally powerful, equally revered. Yet, fate had chosen them as the only wielders in their bloodlines capable of unleashing their true potential.
His father once told him the story. The Lunar Fang and Solar Fang were forged from the same material, their origins intertwined like fate itself. In his past life, only he had been able to wield Lunar Fang, just as Shia alone had wielded Solar Fang. A perfect balance—just as their destinies had once been intertwined.
A distant look clouded his gaze.
What happened to you, my beloved sword? Were you, like me, erased from history?
The wind carried his words into the silence of the garden.
Then, Orion shook his head, pushing the thoughts away. Dwelling on the past would not change the present.
The past is a blade already swung. The future is a blade yet to be forged.
Rising to his feet, he tightened his grip on his current sword. Though it was ordinary, he would make do.
He stepped forward, his stance firm. The blade danced in his hands—each swing fluid, yet deadly. His movements were precise, refined, a testament to years of experience.
Even in this new body, his instincts remained. His swordplay was elegant yet ruthless, every strike carrying a lethal edge. Hours passed as he moved without pause, sweat drenching his clothes.
Finally, he halted.
His gaze fell upon the sword in his hands—small cracks had begun forming on the blade.
"…I need a better weapon."
Tomorrow, he would visit the market and find one.
As the sky darkened, Orion returned to the mansion. After freshening up, he changed into light yet elegant attire before heading downstairs to the dining hall.
As he picked up his utensils, he cleared his throat.
"Mother, Mother Sera… I've decided. Tomorrow, I'm going to the city market to buy a weapon."
Both women looked up.
Celia smiled. "That's a good decision."
Sera nodded. "I'll make the necessary preparations for your trip."
Before Orion could respond, Elara leaned forward, eyes gleaming.
"Can I come too?"
He raised an eyebrow. "You want to come?"
"Of course!" She huffed, crossing her arms. "I won't fall behind! I need a weapon too."
Celia chuckled. "She's been saying that since morning."
Sera smirked. "She's quite stubborn, isn't she?"
Elara pouted. "Hmph!
Smiling on Elara pouted, Orion reached out and ruffled her hair. "Alright, alright. Then let's both go together."
Elara blinked before grinning widely. "Yes!"
The warmth of the moment settled deep in Orion's heart.
Despite everything, despite how his father and brothers saw him, this family loved him.
And that… was enough.
As the night deepened, Orion excused himself, returning to his room.
Tonight, he would allow himself rest.
Tomorrow… his journey would continue.