Dozens of town farmers looked up, staring at the convoy with confusion and fear.
Strangers—unnoticed, unexpected—had arrived.
Though the townsfolk calmed as the group passed, unease lingered like fog in their bones.
Arvind's heart sank as the state of Ashford came into view.
No city walls. No defense structures. Just barren openness and cracked roads.
Ashford looked less like a town and more like a cattle pen—no walls, no order, no pride.
He clenched his jaw. Bloodsucking nobles... Too stingy to leave anything behind. Not even a foundation.
A cold silence hung over the convoy.
Is a future even possible here...?
Up front, Aldric's horse nearly slipped on a muddy patch mixed with dung.
He barely kept balance and cursed under his breath.
This place is indefensible.
Faelan didn't speak.
But his face had already darkened.
As the carriage rolled deeper into town, they passed rows of rotting homes—
Silent.
Lifeless.
Hollow-eyed children peeked out from doorways, too thin for their age. Fear etched deep into every stare.
Arvind's chest tightened.
What happened here? Why is it so miserable?Is this really where I'm supposed to build a future? A place where even hope has died?
In contrast,
Anika waved. The children fled. She blinked. "Am I that scary…?"
gently touching her cheek.
Shankar, at all time watchful, surveyed the locals.
He'd seen this before..Conflict between newcomers and natives could spark quickly—And it would be his young lord who paid the price.
---
Their arrival stirred the quiet streets.
Idle folk gathered—watching. Caution mixed with curiosity.
Greed flickered in their eyes when they saw the wagons.
"Stop right there!" a man barked.
"Pay a toll if you want to pass."
His gaze lingered too long on the goods.
Tension snapped like a frayed pan on heating as a clashes broke out—
One townsman shoved a civilian. A long-suppressed rage ignited.
Fists flew. Tools were raised. Screams tore through the muddy street.
Aldric charged forward.
He knocked an aggressor flat with his shield.
Blood splattered.
The knights drew blades.
Emboldened, the civilians retaliated—hurling stones and rubble.
One injured townsman glared at his retreating comrades.
"Cowards! Bring our warriors! Kill them all!"
Aldric's eyes narrowed.
Without a word, he hurled his sword—burying it in the ground inches from the town leader's chest.
A shockwave rippled outward.
The man collapsed, unconscious. Blood splattered like mist.
"You think trash like you can speak to me?" Aldric growled.
"Are you all with him?"
The townsfolk froze. Fear overtook pride.
Memories of past brutality rippled through their minds.
They fled.
"Demon... demon!"
---
Arvind stepped down from the carriage.
His heart sank.
This musclehead again...
Does he ever think? How am I supposed to rule if all they know is fear?
He knelt beside the unconscious leader, checked for breath.
Alive.
The surrounding townspeople shrank from him—not for what he did, but for his noble robes.
Do they hate me? Or just the power I wear?
He exhaled, then shouted:
"You—can't you use less violence?!"
Aldric looked away, unfazed.
Arvind cursed under his breath and climbed back into the carriage, slamming the door.
The air froze, thick with discomfort.
No one spoke.
Inside, Anika beamed.
"We're here! What a sight!"
But Arvind didn't reply. His chest felt tight.
"Ahh..." he muttered, pressing a hand to his ribs.
Anika leaned closer, concern softening her voice.
"My lord...?"
He said nothing.
From the carriage window, he watched the townsfolk slowly emerge—
Only to retreat again every time Aldric passed into view.
Eventually, they turned from the streets, heading up the hill...
Toward the castle.
---
Faelan stayed behind to organize the civilian camp.
As he passed through the tents, he heard whispers—
Rumors already brewing about the clash between their lord and the knight commander.
Arvind's gaze drifted up the hill.
His new home. His castle.
His lip curled.
The walls were half-collapsed. The structure cracked and dusty. looked more like a toy fort than a bastion of nobility.
A defensive joke. A monument to neglect.
He clenched his fists.
"My lord," Shankar said gently from behind.
"There's much work to be done. Should we begin recruiting helpers?
A place this size... you won't manage alone."
Arvind straightened.
His spirit flickered, recovering.
"Recruit civilians."
Shankar nodded.
"We'll begin tomorrow. Though...
perhaps it's best to let them settle in first?"
"Mm," Arvind murmured, then glanced at Aldric— Only to look away again.
I still haven't recovered from today's disgrace…
---
Inside the ruined castle, the scent of mildew and dust choked the air.
The walls were cracked, the stones scarred.
It felt like some ancient beast had once lived here—and left its rot behind.
A chandelier, rusted and half-fallen, with no crystal in sight.
So many secrets. So many wounds.
But one truth was clear: Ravengarde is cursed. And dangerous.
Damn it all...
"This wasn't a home—it was a punishment with a roof."
---
"Listen up!" Aldric barked.
"Guard the collapsed walls—no mistakes! You know what failure means. My blade will remind you. Let the horses rest by the adjoining stable!"
He turned and began his rounds, eyes scanning the broken stronghold with quiet calculation.
From the balcony above, Arvind watched.
A pang of inferiority struck deep.
Is it really impossible for me? Am I not cut out for this?
He slammed his palm against the cold stone.
So many still don't recognize my rule. The natives—will they ever accept me?
After today… I want to bury myself. And the threats that still linger...
"What future can I promise them, when I can't even believe in mine?"
---
Inside the master bedroom, Anika hummed softly as she cleaned.
"Almost done, my lord. Just a moment. And don't forget to wake before dinner."
He nodded, stepped aside, and collapsed onto the worn bed once she finished.
Despite everything, it was the first moment he'd felt remotely safe.
Hands behind his head, he stared at the ceiling.
His mind drifted—from the broken village they passed, to this cursed castle that now bore his name.
What a day...
Sleep refused him. But the questions came—quiet, endless...
His thoughts turned inward—
To the Aetheric Path.
In this world, Aetherion was like the "qi" of his past life's novels—
A chaotic, primal force of magic flowing through all life.
But it was too wild to wield directly.
Only magical beasts could absorb it in raw form.
Intelligent races had to filter it, refine it into usable forms:
Mana. Fighting spirit. Life force.
These became the three cores of power in Atheron.
Humans were no exception.
And power levels ranged from Level 0 to Level 6.
Sky Knights—Level 6 elites—stood at the kingdom's peak.
Some whispered of legends beyond that. Beings so powerful they rivaled gods. Two ancients giants… unproven, but feared.
---
Arvind raised his hand and stared at his palm.
The Aetheric Talent Theory echoed in his mind:
Every living being is made of two elements—Ephiron (stability) and Aetherion (chaos).
The more Aetherion in your body, the greater your magical potential—
—but also, the higher the risk of madness.
Too much Ephiron, and you're stable… but powerless.
He clenched his hand.
His body had more Ephiron. Safe. Predictable. Ordinary.
But what if I'm not useless? What if I can manipulate Aetherion through logic—through science, not talent?
The thought thrilled him. Even terrified him.
His imagination wandered further.
This wasn't a typical fantasy world.
Elves, dwarves, orcs, even high-tier magical beasts walked Atheron—
Each with their own ancient legacies and cunning agendas.
Even the goblins—once seen as pests—had become merchants and war-time opportunists.
Untrustworthy allies. Ruthless negotiators.
They would trick kings for coin.
A reincarnator like me…
I'll carve a future here.
---
Reinvigorated, he left the room and entered the castle hall.
There, Shankar was scolding newly recruited maids—gentle but firm.
Arvind watched, amused.
"Shankar, come here."
The butler stepped over quickly.
"I'm grateful for everything you've done. I don't say it enough," Arvind said.
"Have you ever thought about marriage?"
Shankar blinked.
"My lord… there's no need to thank me. This is simply my duty.
I still remember your mother's kindness.
I'll stay with you—through thick and thin."
Arvind nodded with a smile. For a moment, Ravengarde didn't feel quite so empty.
"Still, marriage's not a bad idea.
Maybe one day, your children will serve alongside mine."
He laughed softly. He was only eighteen.
He didn't even have a woman in his life—children were far off.
Still, Shankar paused, thoughtful. Perhaps for the first time.
Then Arvind's smile faded.
"Let's speak plainly. I don't know if Ravengarde is our future. I could barely handle today. What happens in winter, when they come again—from the deep shadows?
Should I run then?"
"One part of me is a noble. The other... just wants to live."
He braced himself, expecting judgment.
But Shankar simply sat beside him, took a sip of water, and spoke calmly.
"My lord, have you ever read your family's history?"
"The Hale family were not born nobles. They were commoners. Soldiers. Followers of King Arthur. They helped forge this kingdom— Fought a Level 6 magical beast to the death.
The land was never the same afterward."
He met Arvind's eyes.
"Your ancestors didn't complain. They didn't ask if they were ready. They fought nature itself—and built what you now inherit."
Shankar let the silence settle.
"Remember this: Not everything needs to be perfect before you start. But imagine what you could build from here. Every soldier. Every servant. They won't be politicians. They'll be yours. Loyal. Willing to follow."
Their conversation turned deeper.
Shankar's voice was calm, instructional.
"A leader must master himself. Even in anger, he should never explode.
Instead, he must stand tall—his presence alone should be enough to make others flinch."
Arvind nodded slowly.
I'm just a hatchling in politics…
There's still so much I need to learn.
Shankar continued.
"You must also recognize the value of those your father entrusted to you.
Take Faelan, for example. He may be the son of a merchant, but the Count held him in high regard.
And Aldric—loyalty, strength, decisiveness. These two are your pillars."
"As for the other, for nobles… don't concern yourself too much."
At the mention of Aldric, Arvind's jaw tightened.
He couldn't forget the contempt in the man's eyes. His fist clenched on instinct—pain blooming in his palm, grounding him.
Still, he nodded to reassure Shankar.
As for Faelan… he didn't know much. Just that he looked like a scholar.
---
Suddenly, Anika stepped in, holding a cloth-wrapped box.
"My lord," she said, "a gift from the local big man. It seems valuable. Also… three people came. One was an old man—probably their leader. The second seemed like his son."
She hesitated.
"The third... was a warrior. He carried a long blade on the back.
Something about him felt… off. He didn't say anything rude, but… his eyes, his stance—he was watching you."
She lowered her voice.
"He didn't stand like a guest, my lord… He stood like a storm waiting to break."
Arvind's expression hardened.
He met Shankar's eyes.
Why does every corner of this land already belong to someone stronger than me?
---
Bang!
A cup slammed against the wooden table.
The warrior's eyes burned with fury.
"Who the hell is this outsider?! Why are we offering him tribute? Is he even worthy of it?!"
"He came here and hurt our townsfolk—and now we bow to him?!"
Bramir sat nearby, calm, quiet. He poured himself another cup of ale.
"I understand," he said softly.
"I know how it feels."
"But the times are uncertain. No one knows when we'll return to the arms of Mother Earth.
And this winter… your squad, your team…"
The warrior snapped.
"What are you saying? We've defended Ashford with our lives! We never begged for charity! And now you want to grovel to some lord with fancy words?
You'll regret it."
"Nobles are tricksters. They suck us dry—then leave us to die."
His voice grew louder—until a quiet interruption silenced the room.
"Enough," Eldrin said.
He stepped forward, voice even but firm.
"Maybe the new lord unsettles you. But listen—he just arrived. He knows nothing of this place.
He needs locals like us. That gives us value."
The warrior frown.
But Eldrin pressed on.
"You could live peacefully. Rebuild. Rest. The lord won't micromanage. We'll be the ones who run Ravengarde."
The warrior opened his mouth—but faltered.
"You…"
But Bramir set down his cup and looked him in the eye.
"Eldrin is right. Your siblings need you.
It's time you took care of them—and yourself.
The past is over. Move forward."
---
That night, Arvind stood alone on the castle tower.
Far below, the town flickered with faint yellow light—
Dozens of fires glowing like distant fireflies.
He listened to the muffled sounds of the castle:
Clinking dishes. Maids setting tables. Wind brushing stone.
Above him, the stars shimmered—calm and endless.
And for the first time since arriving…
He smiled.
Not because he was victorious. Not because the burden was lifted.
But because he was still here.
Still standing.
His gaze swept the sleeping town.
They flickered quietly—like hopes too small to notice. But enough to light the dark.
No one can say what the future holds...
But I'm here.
I'll face it.
Whatever comes next...