The patriarch of the Cross Family stood tall and still, his silhouette framed by the pale light of the approaching sunrise. Both of his hands were resting against his strong jawline, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the first rays of dawn painted the sky in hues of orange and gold. His sharp eyes, seasoned from countless battles and years of leading, seemed to pierce through the morning mist.
"Is that true, Darius?" the patriarch asked, his deep voice carrying a quiet strength, laced with curiosity and a hint of surprise.
Darius, standing behind him with his head bowed respectfully, answered firmly, "Yes, my lord. Young Master Adrian completed what none of his siblings could. He finished one hundred push-ups, one hundred sit-ups, and ran ten full laps—each task with only minimal rest between. Afterward, I granted him two hours of rest before we began the next part of training: one hundred downward sword swings."
The patriarch's eyes shifted to Darius, narrowing slightly with interest. "And?"
Darius straightened slightly, pride hidden beneath his calm tone. "He completed it as well, my lord. All one hundred swings, despite the pain in his hands and arms."
There was a pause. The patriarch slowly unfolded his arms, stepping forward into the soft morning light. His voice rumbled low as he spoke, filled with both admiration and contemplation. "What grit… That frail boy did what his siblings—stronger in body and blessed with greater magical talent—could not. His brothers and sisters could only manage fifty, maybe seventy at most, of those exercises. And their limit was seven laps… and that with at least thirty minutes of rest between."
He turned slightly, his piercing gaze settling on Darius. "And you're saying Adrian… completed it all with barely any rest?"
"Yes…patriarch," Darius said quietly, bowing deeper.
For a long moment, the patriarch stared out at the rising sun, the light glinting off his sharp features. Then he straightened fully, his voice steady and grave. "But remember this, Darius… Training alone does not make a warrior. It strengthens the body, tempers the will. It helps a boy survive. But it does not win battles."
Darius glanced up. "Pardon me for asking, patriarch… but what is it that Adrian lacks, while his siblings have it?"
The patriarch's lips curved into a small, knowing smile. His voice came low, like a lesson passed down through generations. "Experience." He chuckled softly, a dark edge of truth behind the sound. "You can train endlessly, until your body aches and your muscles cry out. But none of it proves anything when blades clash for real. On the battlefield… it's only near-death that teaches a warrior's truth. Until Adrian faces that… he's still just a boy swinging at shadows."
The patriarch exhaled slowly, as if the weight of what he was about to say pressed upon his chest. He turned his gaze fully from the rising sun and toward Darius. His sharp eyes glinted with determination beneath his furrowed brow.
"That is why," the patriarch said, his tone like steel, "I am going for a little walk." His hands fell to his sides, fingers curling slightly into fists. "You, Darius, continue with Adrian's training. But after you finish with him… I will give you a new task. One that cannot wait."
Darius straightened, sensing the shift in the air, the gravity behind his lord's words. The patriarch's gaze darkened as he shifted slightly, the faint reflection of his stern face visible in the window glass. In that reflection, his features seemed hardened, like a man ready to confront death itself.
"Darius…" the patriarch said lowly. "Do you know of Palehand?"
Darius's face tensed at the name. His voice was tight as he answered. "The demon worshippers, my lord? The cult that calls themselves servants of darkness? They… appeared four years ago, if I remember right." His fists clenched unconsciously at the memory. "They were the ones who summoned that… monstrosity. That giant minotaur demon that rampaged and destroyed an entire country in just a single night. Men, women, children—all wiped out as if they were never born…"
"Yes…" The patriarch's voice was heavy, his eyes narrowing further. "And I fear they have returned."
He turned his full attention out the window, his reflection merging with the dawn outside, as if his mind was already out there hunting for answers. His fingers flexed, the veins in his hand standing out as he clenched his fist tight.
"I can feel it, Darius," the patriarch said, voice almost a growl. "A sinister energy, creeping closer to our lands. I'd bet my life on it—it's near Carmel Village. Either they're hiding there, blending in among the villagers…"
His fist trembled with fury.
"Or worse… the entire village is part of this cursed Palehand. Every man, woman, and child of Carmel… could be in league with the demons."
The room fell silent, the tension so thick it seemed to choke the air itself. Darius felt a cold shiver down his spine at the weight of the possibility.
The patriarch's eyes burned with resolve. "We cannot allow what happened before to happen again. This time… we end them before the bloodshed begins."
Darius lowered his head, his voice steady and loyal.
"Understood. I will prepare and solve this problem before it's too late, my lord."
The patriarch's sharp eyes softened, if only slightly, as he glanced over his shoulder.
"Yes… I am glad to have you by my side, Darius."
A faint, rare smile tugged at Darius's lips as he replied,
"The feeling is mutual, my lord."
Without another word, the patriarch turned, his long coat trailing behind him like a shadow of intent. His footsteps echoed through the chamber, each one heavy with purpose.
"I will take my leave now. There is a matter I must attend to… one that cannot be cast aside so lightly," he said, his voice calm yet commanding as he strode past Darius.
Darius took a step forward.
"I understand, my lord. I shall prepare the carriage and the two hundred highest-ranking knights of the Cross to—"
But the patriarch halted. His back still to Darius, he lifted one hand—an unspoken signal to pause. The room grew still, the weight of his presence filling it.
"I shall not require any assistance," the patriarch said, his tone final. His gaze remained fixed on the door ahead, his figure framed by the pale morning light.
"If this turns into bloodshed… I don't want a single innocent life taken. Not by my hand, nor by yours."
Then, with a voice like a blade honed by countless battles, he added,
"Why summon a thousand blades, when mine strikes with the weight of a legion?"
Darius lowered his head further, feeling the immense will of the man before him.
"I am sorry for doubting you, my lord…"
The patriarch's voice softened.
"It's all right. I know you speak from worry, Darius. But you know me—I am not the kind to risk innocent lives so carelessly… not like a tyrant."
And with that, he walked on, his steps measured and sure. Each footfall grew quieter, the sound of his departure fading into the silence of the vast hall.
The great doors creaked open, and then closed behind him, leaving Darius alone with his thoughts… and the promise of what was to come.
The smithy blazed with the heat of countless forges, the clang of hammers against steel echoing through the air like a chorus of iron and fire. Sparks danced around Adrian as he stood at the center of it all, sweat dripping down his brow, his small hands steady despite the intense labor. The crafters and blacksmiths surrounding him paused, their eyes wide with anticipation.
Adrian raised the gleaming piece high, his voice bursting with pure joy.
"It's doneeeeeeee!!"
Cheers erupted from some of the younger apprentices, while the elder craftsmen watched with mixed expressions of awe and disbelief. Slowly, with the precision of someone beyond his years, Adrian lowered the newly forged Blast Ring into a trough of cool water. A loud hiss filled the air as steam billowed up, shrouding him in a ghostly mist for a moment.
As the vapors cleared, the ring emerged—gleaming magnificently. Its design was intricate:
—A majestic golden dragon, its body coiled gracefully around the band as if guarding its power.
—The dragon's fierce head rested at the top of the ring, mouth slightly open, fangs bared.
—In the center of the dragon's forehead, embedded deep in the gold, was a brilliant blue crystal, glowing faintly with a mysterious light.
In Adrian's thoughts, he marveled, Thanks to Sister Serena's Sorcellium… the Blast Ring has been enhanced to another level!
And just then, the system's voice chimed in, a mix of amazement and pride:
「The Blast Ring has evolved beyond its prior limits, young master! This is no ordinary enhancement—this is a masterpiece, a true artifact in the making!」
Adrian's heart raced as glowing runes briefly traced along the ring's surface, sealing the power within.
The system continued, its voice clear and detailed:
「Due to your remarkable achievement, a flood of crafting knowledge has been granted to you. Your understanding of forging, rune-carving, and magical integration has deepened. As a result:
—Your strength has increased — your grip steadier, your strikes firmer.
—Your speed has enhanced — precision and swiftness in your hands and feet.
—Your resistance has grown — better endurance against heat, cold, and magical pressure.
Additionally, 300 RP has been awarded for this significant feat. Use it wisely, young master.」
The blacksmiths around him finally broke their stunned silence, clapping and congratulating him with admiration. Adrian, though tired and drenched in sweat, grinned wide, the weight of the upgraded Blast Ring resting in his palm—his very first masterwork.
The ring still warm from the forge, Adrian burst out of the smithy, his heart pounding with excitement. The golden Blast Ring shimmered in the rays of the setting sun, its dragon design reflecting brilliant hues of gold and blue.
Before him, as if by fate, stood Darius, his cloak fluttering gently in the breeze. The knight had been about to leave, but paused, raising a brow at Adrian's sudden approach.
"Oh? Young master…" Darius's deep voice carried a hint of surprise, but also fondness at seeing Adrian so eager.
Adrian's eyes sparkled with determination, breath slightly heavy from running.
"Sir Darius! Good timing!" he said, holding up his hand, the Blast Ring catching the light like a beacon.
"May I request something of you? Could you try defending against a strike with this? I wish to test my creation!"
Darius's sharp eyes immediately focused on the ring, his warrior's instinct recognizing its craftsmanship at a glance. The golden dragon, the embedded blue crystal—it wasn't just beautiful. It radiated power.
"That's…" Darius murmured, his lips curling into a small, warm smile. "That is truly amazing craftwork, young master."
But his expression softened, and with a trace of regret, he shook his head.
"I'm sorry to say this, but I have a matter of great importance to attend to. I had come only to check on you and give you a message."
Adrian blinked, his excitement tempered by understanding.
"Please, continue your training by yourself for today," Darius continued, his tone gentle but firm.
"I promise you, young master—tomorrow, I shall return and we will resume our lessons. You have my word."
Darius then bowed respectfully, one hand to his chest, his silver hair catching the dying sunlight.
"Farewell, young master."
Adrian mirrored the bow, his voice sincere.
"Take care, Sir Darius."
In that instant, Darius shifted his stance, his body poised like a coiled spring.
And then—whoosh!
In a flash, he dashed past, a streak of steel and black cloak, vanishing down the path with incredible speed, his footsteps fading like a whisper on the wind.
Adrian stood there, staring after his guardian, the weight of the Blast Ring solid in his hand.
Tomorrow... I'll show him what this can really do.
As Adrian watched Darius vanish in the distance, the excitement in his heart had yet to fade. The Blast Ring gleamed proudly on his finger, a symbol of his hard work and determination.
Just as he was about to test its might, a large shadow loomed over him—blocking the morning sun.
A soft, confident voice reached his ears, carrying its own unique melody.
"Young master…"
Adrian froze for a second, then turned his head slightly, recognizing the tone.
"Ma'am Iriana…?" he asked, blinking in surprise.
But before he could say more, the woman behind him laughed, her voice light and teasing.
"Ma'am Iriana?" she repeated, placing a hand on her hip, her brown-silver hair flowing in the breeze.
"No need to be so formal, young master. Just call me Iria. Someone like me doesn't deserve grand titles."
As she spoke, Iria tilted her head back slightly, gazing at the sky. The morning light highlighted the gentle curve of her neck and the smooth skin just visible above the simple white cloth that wrapped snugly around her chest.
Adrian's eyes, though trying hard to stay respectful, accidentally caught the sight.
And right on cue—
「Young masterrrrr~ where are you lookinggg~??」~??」
The system's voice chimed in his mind, its tone playful and dripping with mock accusation.
Adrian jumped, his heart skipping a beat.
"Wahhh—!" he yelped internally, snapping his gaze up at the sky, face slightly flushed.
Iria glanced down at him, one brow raised.
"What is it, young master?" she asked, her voice gentle but curious at his sudden reaction.
Adrian fumbled for words, scratching his cheek nervously, avoiding her gaze.
"N-nothing! I just… c-can't… see the… sun…" he muttered so quietly, the last part was nearly inaudible.
Iria blinked, not catching his mumbled excuse, but she smiled anyway, stepping closer.
"Hmm? You're acting strange, young master."
The system, meanwhile, chuckled darkly in his mind:
「Fufufu~ You're really living the dream, young master. Shall I log this in the memory album?」
Iria chuckled softly, noticing Adrian's awkwardness. She placed a hand gently on his shoulder, leaning just a little closer.
"If you want to try that Blast Ring of yours, young master…" she began, her voice warm and inviting,
"…why not come with me? There's a forest just north of here. If we go deeper, you'll find a cave rich with ores—and crawling with monsters. You could test that ring endlessly."
Adrian blinked, still flustered by earlier.
"M-monsters…?" he echoed, trying to focus on her words, not… other things.
Iria grinned, standing up straighter to show her confidence. But as she did, her chest lifted—her breasts giving a small, natural bounce that tugged at the white cloth binding them. The fabric shifted slightly, a corner threatening to come loose at any moment.
Adrian's eyes widened. His face went bright red, his gaze desperately darting away toward the trees, the ground—anywhere but directly at her.
The morning sun was behind her, casting a soft glow that made it harder for him to see her expression clearly, but somehow too easy to notice that other view.
And just then—
「At least you're seeing something precious today, young master~」
the system chimed in, its voice a sly purr in his mind.
Adrian clenched his fists, thinking in panic:
"Damn you, system! Stop narrating this!"
But Iria, unaware of the inner chaos, smiled sweetly.
"Don't worry, young master. Even if I look like this…"
She winked playfully.
"…I'm quite tough, you know."
The wind picked up lightly, tugging at the edge of that rebellious cloth, as if daring fate.