After the world's most emotionally draining dinner, Kael stepped into the mansion's garden, Selene trailing beside him.
The night was unnaturally peaceful.
Nightlilies bloomed along the path like little ghosts, swaying gently in the breeze.
Above, the two moons floated—serene, watchful, like twin eyes that had seen too much and decided to say nothing.
The moonlight bathed the garden in silver, and for a moment Kael forgot he was in a political minefield masquerading as a family home.
For a brief flicker in time, it felt… clean.
Peaceful.
Which was suspicious.
He hadn't known peace since he arrived in this cursed body.
Just as he was beginning to wonder if maybe—just maybe—this garden walk wasn't a trap, Selene's voice cut softly through the night.
"Kael?"
He turned, half-expecting her to say something like "Look out,assassins."
But no.
She looked… concerned.
Which was even more alarming.
He blinked.
She hesitated.
Then finally asked, voice quiet:
"Why didn't you just apologize?"
For a second—just a second—Kael's chest tightened.
She cared?
Her voice had warmth.
Real warmth.
A flicker of human concern in a world that usually operated on bloodlines, rankings, and the ancient art of passive-aggressive table settings.
Kael felt something unfamiliar twist in his chest.
She… cared?
She's the only one here who's even asked.
In this house of cold monsters and dead smiles, Selene had shown actual, honest—
Then she opened her mouth again.
"As you know… slaves of losers get punished too."
…
Kael stopped walking.
Hard.
He didn't breathe.
Just stared at her like she'd grown a second head.
That was it?
That concern— that tenderness—it wasn't for him.
It was for her own skin.
She'd already written him off.
Already prepared herself to be punished because she thought he'd lose.
His eye twitched.
A vein pulsed at his temple.
"Bitch," he muttered.
Selene blinked.
"What—"
And then he tackled her.
Not violently—just suddenly.
They crashed into the soft grass, her back hitting the earth with a quiet thump, Kael landing on top, hands planted on either side of her.
She stared up at him, wide-eyed.
He stared down, scowling.
"I haven't even lost yet and you're already mourning your own damn fate?"
She opened her mouth.
He cut her off.
"You thought I'd get obliterated by some overachieving blood sorcerer, and your first instinct wasn't comfort — it was damage control?!"
"I mean…" she said weakly, "yes?"
Kael stared.
Then let out a slow exhale, dragging a hand down his face.
"...You're lucky you're cute."
She blinked up at him.
"What?"
"Shut up," he muttered.
"We're learning spells now.
I need to become a War god by next Tuesday."
Selene froze.
Her eyes locked onto Kael's face.
He wasn't angry anymore.
No, that would've been understandable. Manageable. Expected.
Instead, he looked like a man who had completely run out of patience and was now powered solely by spite and petty vengeance.
She hated that it kind of suited him.
Her voice came out too high.
"M-Master?"
Kael didn't move.
"You really thought I'd lose, huh?"
"I-I didn't say that."
"You said 'slaves of losers get punished.' That's basically a eulogy."
She tried to shift beneath him.
It did not work.
Kael only leaned closer.
"You could've said, 'Don't worry, Master. I believe in you.'"
"..."
"Or even something like, 'We'll survive this together, Master.'"
"..."
"Instead, you said,
'When you die, please don't let them hit me too hard.'"
Selene let out a choked noise that might've been a laugh or a sob.
It was hard to tell anymore.
"I was just being realistic!" she said, half-defensive, half-terrified.
"I mean, you're—"
She stopped.
Kael raised a brow.
"Finish that sentence, Selene. I dare you."
She did not.
Instead, she did what any cornered, guilt-stricken, ex-prodigy-turned-maid would do.
She turned into a tomato.
Face red. Lips tight.
Eyebrows furrowed with the intensity of someone trying very hard not to die of embarrassment.
"...I do believe in you, Master," she mumbled into the grass.
Kael blinked.
That… actually caught him off guard.
He sat back slightly, arms crossed.
"Say it again. But louder.
With less guilt and more conviction."
She narrowed her eyes.
"I believe in you, Master."
"Better."
"Now get off me !!!"
"Rude. I'm having a character-building moment."
"You're crushing my ribs."
"That's just motivation to train harder."
Selene groaned.
"I hate you."
Kael smiled thinly, rising to his feet at last and offering her a hand.
"You'll love me when I save your ungrateful hide from being publicly whipped."
She muttered something unladylike under her breath, but took his hand.
As he pulled her up, she asked, still red-faced:
"...Are we actually going to study magic now, or are you planning to monologue on top of me all night?"
Kael smirked.
"Teach me," he said at last, clearing his throat.
"The easiest Rank 1 spell."
Selene didn't answer right away.
Instead, she gave him a look.
One of those long, slow, soul-evaluating looks.
The kind you give a man who just asked if sticking a fork in a socket would make him a god.
"…Master," she said carefully, like someone trying not to spook a very dumb and very determined horse.
"You don't have mana aptitude.
Not even a flicker.
Trying to cast a spell without it is like trying to breathe in lava."
Kael held up a hand.
"Just teach."
Selene squinted at him like he'd just asked to borrow her soul for a drinking game.
Then, after a long, silent pause, she gave the slow, solemn nod of a woman about to let a toddler operate a guillotine.
"Fine," she said.
She turned toward the garden, muttering something under her breath—words that curled in the air like smoke and menace.
Her eyes sharpened, her expression sliding into something... professional.
Then she raised one hand.
A soft blue glow bloomed in her palm.
Not warm. Not friendly.
More like moonlight caught mid-scream.
Kael watched, mesmerized.
It shimmered like magic trapped in glass—cold, beautiful, and entirely unsafe.
Then she flicked her wrist.
A crescent of light tore through the air—silent, surgical.
It struck a tree ahead with a muted thump.
Not flashy. Not cinematic.
Just quietly menacing.
A clean, shallow groove cut into the bark, still faintly glowing like a warning label.
Selene dusted her hands like she'd just demonstrated how to boil water.
"If you add more mana, you can start splitting trees.
Or limbs.
Depends on the mood."
Kael blinked.
Then whispered, almost reverently,
"…I want that."
She smirked.
"Everyone wants the sword made of moonlight.
Nobody wants to memorize the 48-stroke rune that makes it work."
She knelt and started sketching in the dirt.
The symbols that emerged glowed faintly, like they were remembering ancient nightmares.
Curved lines. Hooks. Elegant, cruel geometry.
Then she stood and dusted off her skirt with the air of someone who had already given up on him.
"Memorize that.
Took me a day.You?
I give it... three. Minimum.
If your brain doesn't melt."
Kael stared at the rune.
It looked like someone had asked a migraine to design a snowflake.
But then—something stirred.
Something deep.
Instinctual.
Not Kaelion's memory.
His own Mana control—SSS-rank talent.
The rune clicked in his head like a lock turning.
His eyes narrowed.
"…What's next?"
Selene laughed, like someone watching a child confidently approach a guillotine.
"Feel the mana around you. It's everywhere. In the air. In the ground.
In me. Took me a year to sense it.
You? Maybe two—if you don't set your brain on fire first."
Kael said nothing.
He closed his eyes.
And felt it.
When he opened them, the world was... different.
The air shimmered with orbs—softly glowing, drifting bubbles of light.
Some pale as ghosts, others dark and dense like ink in water.
He reached out to one.
His fingers passed through it.
No warmth. No resistance.
Just the distinct feeling of trying to hug fog.
"...Now what?"
Selene turned, sighing.
"You chant the rune while moving your hand like this—" she made a lazy gesture, half-yawn, half-sorcery.
She crossed her arms again.
"But it takes time, Master. Practice. Months, if not—"
She stopped.
Because behind her, Kael had raised his hand.
Blue light bloomed.
Raw. Wild. Angry.
Then came the chant. Low. Rough.
The kind of sound that made the wind pause to listen.
"Moon Blade."
The crescent screamed into the air.
It didn't gently dent the tree.
It obliterated it.
A crack echoed across the garden as the trunk split like a snapped bone.
Leaves burst upward like startled birds.
Petals flew. Dust danced.
Then came the thud.
Selene turned slowly. Mechanically.
Like a horror protagonist about to confirm something awful.
Kael stood there, blinking at the stump.
"…Yeah," he said, rubbing his wrist.
"Mana control. That's gonna be important."
He turned to her, the faintest smile creeping up.
"So… did I pass?"
Selene did not answer.
She took a single step back.
Eyes wide. Mouth open.
Hands trembling just enough to be concerning.
"…Monster," she whispered.
Then louder.
"MONSTER!"
Kael blinked.
"…Is that a compliment?