The following morning, one of the sons of House Dainheart returned to the family's main estate after a brief absence.
His name was Dion Dainheart.
The moment his boots crossed the threshold of the estate, he sensed that something was different.
He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but the atmosphere he had always known had vanished, replaced by an invisible tension that lingered throughout the manor like a silent storm waiting to break.
It was not something one could see.
It was something one could feel.
His brows furrowed as his sharp gaze swept across the surroundings.
The servants spoke only in whispers.
The guards, usually relaxed during quiet hours, now avoided unnecessary conversation altogether.
Even the familiar faces he passed carried restrained expressions, as though everyone had silently agreed that there were certain subjects best left unspoken.
Dion narrowed his eyes.
"What happened while I was away?"
Finding no reason to waste time questioning servants, he headed straight for the one person most likely to know.
Lionel.
A few minutes later, he found his younger brother wandering through one of the manor's long stone corridors.
But the instant Dion approached, something immediately caught his attention.
Lionel's complexion was ghostly pale.
His body trembled without pause.
His breathing was uneven, and there was a haunted look buried deep within his eyes—as though a nightmare had followed him into the waking world and refused to let go.
Dion looked at him coldly.
"What happened here?"
Lionel opened his mouth to answer.
Nothing came out.
Only broken, incoherent sounds escaped his lips.
His words collapsed before they could even become sentences.
A sharp silence followed.
Then...
Whatever little patience Dion possessed vanished.
Smack!
His palm struck Lionel's face with brutal force, sending him crashing onto the polished stone floor.
The sound echoed through the corridor.
Lionel clutched his burning cheek while struggling to breathe.
Dion stared down at him with merciless eyes.
"When I ask you a question..."
"You answer."
"Immediately."
"Otherwise..."
"I can't promise you'll live to see tomorrow's sunrise."
Lionel remained on the ground, gasping.
The fear in his eyes only deepened.
Dion clicked his tongue in annoyance.
"What's wrong with him?"
"He's even more pathetic than usual."
Swallowing with difficulty, Lionel forced himself to speak.
"I..."
"L-Leo..."
"He's back."
Dion frowned with open disdain.
"So what?"
"What difference does it make if that useless trash returned?"
Lionel shook his head frantically.
"N-No..."
"That's not the problem."
"He..."
"He's changed."
Silence settled between them.
Then, slowly, a crooked smile spread across Dion's face.
Curiosity flickered within his eyes.
"Oh?"
"Now..."
"That sounds interesting."
He turned around without asking another question.
"I've heard enough."
"I'll see it with my own eyes."
As he walked through the manor's corridors, a mocking smile remained on his face.
"Let's see..."
"Just what kind of person that worthless piece of trash has become."
---
Meanwhile...
Leo had already organized his thoughts.
After a brief moment of consideration, he decided that his first destination would be House Dainheart's training grounds.
Not only was it spacious and specifically designed for cultivation and combat practice, but it also possessed a naturally dense concentration of mana, making it an ideal place to continue refining his magic and strengthening his circles.
Lost in thought, he barely noticed the sudden...
Bang!
The door was thrown open with enough force to rattle the room.
Leo calmly turned his head.
Standing at the entrance was none other than...
Dion Dainheart.
His elder brother.
Leo studied him silently.
He hardly needed to search through his inherited memories.
This man had left quite an impression.
Dion respected only one thing.
Strength.
He lived for competition, craved battle almost obsessively, and viewed the weak with utter contempt.
To him...
The powerless were no different from livestock.
The two brothers stood facing one another.
Dion was the first to break the silence.
A mocking grin spread across his lips.
"So..."
"The useless failure finally came crawling back."
Leo remained perfectly silent.
As though Dion's words had never reached his ears.
As though the man before him simply wasn't worth acknowledging.
Dion's eyes narrowed.
Veins bulged faintly across his forehead.
"How dare you..."
"You worthless insect..."
"Ignore me?"
Without another word, he swung his hand toward Leo's face, intending to strike him just as he had countless times in the past.
But—
His hand never reached its target.
Leo caught his wrist effortlessly.
The slap froze in midair.
Not even an inch away.
Then Leo slowly lifted his gaze.
His eyes met Dion's.
Cold.
Steady.
Unshaken.
Eyes devoid of hesitation...
Or fear.
"What do you want?"
His voice was calm.
Yet it carried a pressure far greater than any shouted threat.
For a single heartbeat...
Dion froze.
It wasn't because his wrist had been stopped.
It was...
Those eyes.
They were the eyes of someone who had walked across mountains of corpses...
Someone who had crossed rivers of blood...
Someone who had long since abandoned the concept of fear itself.
For the first time in years...
A faint trace of unease crept into Dion's heart.
It disappeared almost as quickly as it came.
Then his grin widened.
"So..."
"It seems you're no longer the same worthless trash."
With surprising ease, he pulled his wrist free.
Then he said,
"In two weeks..."
"House Dainheart will hold its internal academy selection."
He looked Leo directly in the eyes.
"You'd better be there."
Leo gave no reply.
Silence was answer enough.
Dion wasn't expecting anything else.
He simply turned around and left as abruptly as he had arrived, leaving behind a room once again swallowed by silence.
---
Leo stood quietly for several moments, recalling Dion's words.
The academy selection...
The Academy itself imposed no limit on how many candidates could apply.
Admission depended solely upon one's talent, potential, and ability.
However...
Great noble houses such as House Dainheart operated differently.
Before sending their heirs to the Academy, they held internal selection tournaments.
Their purpose extended beyond simple admission.
Every student carried the honor of their house upon their shoulders.
Their achievements—or failures—would inevitably shape how the entire kingdom viewed their family's strength.
Because of that...
Most noble houses preferred sending only a handful of exceptional candidates rather than a crowd of mediocre ones.
Leo quietly reflected.
"In House Dainheart's case..."
"They usually send only two representatives each year."
"One from the main family..."
"And one from a branch family."
Still...
His thoughts lingered on the matter only briefly.
The competition itself wasn't particularly important to him.
Far greater concerns occupied his mind.
Questions without answers.
Secrets still buried beneath layers of mystery.
Plans that allowed no room for delay.
Just then—
A gentle knock echoed from the door.
A familiar, dignified voice followed.
"Young Master..."
"This servant, Franz, requests permission to enter."
Leo lifted his head.
"Come in."
The door opened quietly.
Franz, the elderly head butler, stepped inside with the elegance and composure expected of someone who had served House Dainheart for decades.
After offering a respectful bow, he spoke in his usual formal tone.
"The Lord of the House..."
"Requests your presence in the main audience hall."
One of Leo's eyebrows rose almost imperceptibly.
"That old man..."
"Who rarely makes an appearance..."
"What could possibly compel him to summon me now?"
His thoughts remained hidden behind an expression of perfect calm.
"I'll be there shortly."
Franz bowed once more before quietly withdrawing from the room.
Silence returned.
Leo stood motionless for a few moments as countless possibilities surfaced within his mind.
Finally...
A faint smile appeared on his lips.
"Very well..."
"Let's see..."
"What the patriarch of House Dainheart wants with me."