Asvin walked ahead, his steps light against the soft red carpet that lined the grand corridor. Behind him, Matthew followed quietly, his small eyes wide with awe, finally taking in the world around him for the first time since waking.
The hallway was long and bathed in golden morning light that poured through stained glass windows, casting warm hues along the marble floor and walls. The gold reflected gently against the crimson banners. Everything around him spoke of power, heritage, and pride.
It was House Cavias. It was the Fierce Lion's home.
Matthew's footsteps slowed, his head tilting back to see the massive chandelier hanging high above. He'd seen one once before, in a book that detailed noble homes, but never in person. The glint of crystal and gold overhead made him feel like he was in another world altogether.
He whispered under his breath, "So this… is a noble's home…"
But no, that wasn't quite right. This wasn't just any noble's home. This was his. Or… it could've been.
Asvin glanced back, noticing the boy's dazed expression. A small smile crept onto his face. "Not bad, huh?" he said with a light chuckle. "House Cavias likes to keep things… bold."
Matthew blinked and nodded slowly. "Red and gold…" he murmured, his fingers brushing against the edge of a tapestry as they passed it. "Those are your house colors, right?"
"Right again," Asvin said, clearly pleased. "Red for the Lion, gold for honor. Or something like that. I think Father once said it stood for blood and legacy."
Matthew's lips parted slightly in understanding. Blood and legacy. He thought about his own home, a small wooden house on the edge of the village. No gold. No guards at the door. Just him, his parents, and their love.
And now, all that was gone.
Asvin didn't say it outright, but each time he spoke, there was something in his tone. A softness. A hint of hopefulness. Matthew was too smart not to notice it. Asvin still wanted him to reconsider.
But Matthew didn't say anything. Not yet.
They stopped at a large oak door.
"She should be in here," Asvin said, placing his hand on the handle. "My older sister. And… the Marlston girls."
Matthew's heart skipped. He hadn't seen the girls since the day before—felt like a lifetime ago. He suddenly felt his chest tighten with a mix of excitement and nervousness.
Asvin looked at him and gave a small nod, as if to say ready?
Matthew nodded back.
The door creaked open.
...
The room was green and white with touches of gold glinting here and there—elegant without being excessive. A polished desk stood by the window, a tall closet rested against the far wall, and a grand bed sat in the center, draped in soft silks and fine linen. Everything a noble young lady might need was there, tasteful and refined.
But none of it mattered to the boy standing at the door.
His eyes locked immediately onto the only thing that truly mattered to him: the two little girls sitting on the bed beside a young woman.
The woman looked to be in her early twenties, dressed in a modest white gown that complemented her serene beauty. Her blonde hair fell in gentle waves down her back, and her clear blue eyes carried the quiet confidence of someone both graceful and strong. She looked like a painting come to life.
As for the two girls beside her—adorable didn't even begin to describe them. They both had golden blonde hair like sunlight spun into silk, one with hers tied into neat braids, the other with loose waves cascading past her shoulders. Their matching blue eyes sparkled with joy, wide and full of life. Dressed in frilled pastel gowns with ribbons around their waists, they looked like something out of a storybook, their legs swinging gently over the edge of the bed.
If not for the slight differences in their faces, you might have mistaken them for the young woman's sisters. They sat close, clinging to each other like they always had—like they always would.
At the soft creak of the door opening, the two little girls turned their heads—and the moment they saw him, their blue eyes went wide.
"Matt!" Terria gasped, her voice barely more than a breath.
"Matt!!" Sonia echoed, already halfway off the bed.
In an instant, they both leapt down and ran straight to him. Terria threw her arms around his waist, clinging tight, while Sonia wrapped herself around one of his legs, nearly toppling him over. Their tiny hands gripped his clothes like they were afraid he might vanish again.
"Where were you?!" Terria whimpered, her voice trembling. "You didn't come back!"
"We waited!" Sonia cried, looking up at him with watery eyes. "We thought you were gone forever!"
Matthew stumbled back a step, but caught himself, arms slowly wrapping around the two small bodies clinging to him. He blinked fast, his throat tight, but he forced a small smile, gently patting their heads.
Asvin stood beside him, arms crossed loosely, a small smile tugging at his lips. This—this was perfect. Another thread to pull, another reason for the boy to reconsider. Surely he wouldn't want to leave them.
Across the room, the young woman had risen to her feet. She didn't speak, just watched with a warmth blooming in her expression. Her soft smile deepened as she took in the scene—these precious little girls who already felt like family, and the small, serious-faced boy who held their hearts so tightly. There was something about him, something beyond his age, that tugged at both her sisterly affection and her quiet maternal instincts.
Matthew gently tightened his arms around the girls. "I missed you too," he whispered, his voice soft and sincere.
Terria leaned back just enough to look at his face. "You really came back?" she asked, as if she still wasn't sure he was real.
"I did," he said, nodding.
Sonia sniffled and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. "Big Sister Theresia said we're gonna stay here now. In this big house... forever."
Matthew blinked at that, glancing up toward the young woman standing beside the bed. She offered a gentle smile and stepped closer, her hands folded neatly in front of her.
"That's right," she said in a calm, warm voice. "My name is Theresia Cavias. I'm the eldest child of the Cavias family, and that young man behind you—" she nodded toward Asvin, who gave a small wave, "—is my little brother."
Her smile grew as her gaze returned to Matthew. "I've heard quite a bit about you."
Matthew gave a small nod, gently pulling away from the two girls so he could straighten up a little. "I'm... Matthew," he said, then paused. His eyes flickered down for a second before he finished, "Just Matthew."
There was a brief moment of quiet. Asvin and Theresia both caught the hesitation, the absence of a surname—an unspoken silence tucked between the words. But neither said a thing. Theresia simply nodded in return, her expression kind.
"Well then," she said, voice soft, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Matt."
Matthew blinked in surprise when Theresia called him Matt. That name—his nickname—was something only his family and closest friends used. It felt strange to hear it from someone he had just met. But… he didn't really mind it. Something about the warmth in her voice made it feel okay. Comforting, even.
"You're even cuter than the girls said," Theresia said, smiling and leaning forward with her hands on her knees. "I'm glad you're here, Matt."
He rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. "Thanks... I missed them, too."
Terria, the older of the Marlston sisters, clung to his side and beamed. "Big sister Theresia said we're gonna stay here forever! Right, Matt?"
Sonia nodded furiously, her hands gripping his shirt. "We don't gotta move again, right? This house is sooo big!"
"It really is," Matthew said, offering a faint smile as he looked around. "I think you'll like it here."
Asvin leaned against the wall behind him, arms crossed and smiling. "Of course they will. This is one of the safest and most comfortable places in all of Coupitia."
Theresia chuckled and flicked a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. "Asvin always exaggerates. Still, I'm glad to hear you like it already. It's your home now, all three of you."
Matthew hesitated.
Asvin noticed.
Theresia didn't.
The young woman continued, cheerful and unaware. "I've already prepared rooms for you, and there's a garden outside. You'll be able to play every day, and I'll have the maids bring you snacks whenever you like."
Terria gasped. "Every day?!"
Sonia's eyes widened. "Even when it's not our birthday?!"
Theresia laughed, musical and light. "Every single day."
Matthew tried to smile for the girls' sake, but he glanced over his shoulder. Asvin met his eyes. The young man said nothing, but the look they exchanged held the weight of what was unsaid—Matthew hadn't agreed to stay.
Asvin forced another smile and spoke up, "Let's enjoy the day, yeah? It's not every day three new stars brighten our halls."
He could lie for now. Just a little longer.
Theresia clapped her hands lightly, as if remembering something amusing. "Oh, I should tell you about the rest of us Cavias siblings. There's me, of course—the dazzling and responsible oldest." She gave an exaggerated toss of her hair that made Sonia giggle.
"And then there's Asvin," she continued, waving a hand toward her brother. "You already know him. Always brooding, always serious, and still somehow charming."
Asvin rolled his eyes. "Thank you for the generous introduction, dear sister."
"And lastly," Theresia said with a smirk, "we have the least charming of us all—Rosin. Or as I like to call her… Rose."
Matthew tilted his head. "Rose?"
Theresia nodded, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Yep! A little girl around your age—how old are you, by the way, Matt?"
"Seven," he answered simply.
"Perfect!" she beamed. "She's seven too! That makes you two age twins."
Matthew blinked, unsure how to respond to age twins, but the girls on either side of him giggled.
"She's so uncute, though," Theresia added, folding her arms in mock dismay. "Always scowling, always acting so serious like she's fifty years old or something. I'm glad I have these two adorable little girls now." She reached over and ruffled Sonia and Terria's hair, making them squeal with delight. "Finally! Two real cuties I can play with instead of my grumpy little sister."
"Oi," Asvin interjected with a grin. "That 'grumpy little sister' is more patient than any of us, especially with you teasing her all the time. She even helped you sneak out that one time, remember?"
Theresia laughed like she'd been caught. "Only because I bribed her with strawberry pie."
Matthew, still holding Terria's hand, looked around curiously. "So… where is she?"
Asvin answered this time. "She's probably in the garden with Mother. They went to pick out some fruit for our guests. You three," he added, gesturing toward Matthew and the two girls, "are the first new faces here in a long while."
"Especially ones this cute," Theresia said with a smile, leaning in to poke Sonia's cheek. "And maybe even one day, Rose will stop acting like she's allergic to fun."
"She's not allergic to fun," Asvin mumbled. "She just has taste."
Theresia grinned wickedly. "Which she didn't inherit from you, clearly."
The banter continued, lighthearted and warm, as if the air itself had softened around them. And though Matthew didn't quite feel like one of them yet… he could see how someone might want to.
But he couldn't.
He couldn't get used to this. Couldn't let the warmth settle in. Couldn't laugh like he belonged here. Because he had a mission—two, in fact. And for a seven-year-old boy, that was something strange, maybe even unnatural. But for Matthew, it was life itself.
The first: to become the Red Sage, just as he'd promised.
The second: to wipe the Black Tower from existence—utterly, completely.
He clenched his little fists without realizing it, then quickly relaxed as he shook his head, pushing those thoughts aside. This wasn't the time.
Trying to ground himself, he glanced toward Asvin, a sudden thought surfacing. "Hey," he asked, tilting his head, "What were you doing there yesterday? When you saved us?"
The words seemed simple, but the effect wasn't. Terria and Sonia's expressions immediately shifted—their bright eyes dulled, shadows returning as the memory hit them. The fire. The screaming. The pain.
And their parents.
Their small bodies trembled as tears welled up in their eyes, and before they could fall, Theresia was already moving. She wrapped them both in her arms, pulling them close into a soft, protective hug. She murmured gentle words that only they could hear, smoothing their hair with calm, practiced hands.
Asvin stood still, watching the scene. His jaw tensed, and for a moment, his lips parted as if to answer.
But the words didn't come yet.
He swallowed hard.
Asvin let out a quiet breath, his gaze drifting toward the girls still wrapped in his sister's arms. "I'd been away," he finally said. "Training at the Court of Saviors… I only just got back after a few months."
Matthew listened quietly, his eyes fixed on Asvin.
"I was headed home that night when I saw the fire," Asvin continued, voice low. "Didn't know what was going on, just that something was wrong. So I approached."
He paused for a moment, jaw tightening slightly. "That's when I saw the Black Tower… and you."
He didn't go on—he didn't have to. Matthew already knew the rest of that story. The boy gave a single, quiet nod, not asking for more.
Instead, after a moment, his curiosity surfaced again. "Have you met him?" he asked. "The Sword Master? The leader of the Court of Saviors?"
Asvin raised a brow, then chuckled softly. "Met him? Oh, yeah. I know him."
Matthew's eyes widened a little in wonder, but before he could ask anything more, Asvin added, "We're… acquainted. He knows me. Personally."
Matthew blinked. "So… you trained under him?"
The young man shook his head. "No," he said with a faint smile, "I haven't."
That was all he offered. Nothing more. No explanation of who had trained him. No clues. Just that same smile and a flicker of something unreadable behind his eyes.
Theresia, who had been quietly brushing Terria's hair back and humming to calm the girls down, perked up at Asvin's vague reply.
"Oh, it's the biggest mystery in the house," she said with a dramatic sigh, her eyes twinkling as she looked at her brother. "This rascal never says who trains him. I have a theory, though."
Asvin narrowed his eyes warily. "Don't."
She leaned in conspiratorially toward Matthew. "I bet it's a woman. A secret lover who teaches him swordplay, I'm sure we'll hear talks of a proposal any day now."
Matthew couldn't help but smirk a little. "You really like teasing him, huh… Big Sis Sia?"
The moment the nickname slipped from his lips, the room went still. Theresia froze, her blue eyes going wide in disbelief. Then—
"Aaaah!" she squealed, practically vibrating with joy. "He called me Sia! Big Sis Sia! Oh, how adorable! Come here, you precious little—!"
She lunged forward and wrapped Matthew into a tight hug, lifting him off the ground slightly as she spun him in her arms. The boy stiffened, caught completely off guard, his arms hanging limply at his sides.
She finally set him down, eyes sparkling with glee. "Thank you, Matt! That nickname is perfect! That stupid Rose never gave me anything this precious!"
Matthew blinked, adjusting his shirt a little and mumbling, "Wasn't that serious…"
"Nonsense!" she declared, hands on her hips. "From now on, everyone in this room is to call me Sia. It's official!"
Asvin muttered under his breath, "She's going to be unbearable about this for weeks…"
Sia turned with a glowing smile. "You know it, dear brother!"
Asvin crossed his arms, his brows furrowed as he leaned against the wall. "Honestly… it's just a nickname. No need to act like it's some royal title."
Theresia turned to him with a teasing smile. "Says the one sulking in the corner."
"I'm not sulking," he replied, deadpan.
"You look like sulking," Terria mumbled, her words slightly jumbled as she tried to sound serious.
"Y-Yeah!" Sonia added with a small frown, her little arms folded in imitation of him. "You mad 'cause Matt said Sia to Big Sis and not you."
Asvin blinked, taken aback. "That's not—"
Matthew couldn't help it. He let out a quiet chuckle. It caught everyone off guard—even himself.
He hadn't meant to laugh, not after everything that had happened, but something about Asvin being ganged up on by a four- and five-year-old was… funny. Comforting, even.
He looked at Asvin, still wearing that light smile. "Alright, alright… how about this then—Big Bro Vin?"
Asvin stared at him, almost blinking in slow motion.
Theresia gasped and brought a hand to her chest. "Oh, now that's adorable."
Terria's face lit up. "Big Bro Vin! Vin! He's Vin now!"
Sonia clapped. "Big Bro Vin! Big Bro Vin!"
Asvin closed his eyes, sighed, and muttered something under his breath that sounded like resignation. Still, there was a subtle shift in his posture. Less stiff. Less guarded.
Theresia leaned over and ruffled Matthew's hair gently. "You've got a way with people, you know that, Matt?"
He looked up at her, a little surprised… but said nothing.
Still, the warmth in the room lingered. And for a boy who'd woken up with nothing left but ashes and ghosts, that little moment of laughter felt like sunlight through clouds.
Theresia tapped a finger to her chin, smiling thoughtfully at Matthew as she said, "You know, Matt… you'd make a fine knight one day. I could see it—the next Fierce Lion, even."
Matthew visibly stiffened. Just slightly—but enough for someone paying attention to notice. He didn't respond, his eyes lowering a little as if retreating inward.
Asvin raised a brow and scoffed. "Hey, now. That's an insult to me. I'm the heir to the Fierce Lion, remember?" His tone was playful, but there was something beneath it. A flicker of uncertainty.
Was Matthew still holding on to that decision? To leave, to pursue the Arts and train at the orphanage? He glanced at the boy again, trying to read him. Maybe now was the time. Maybe he could convince him again—that this wasn't the right path, that staying here was better, safer, warmer. He opened his mouth—
"Matt's gonna be the Red Sage!" Sonia suddenly blurted out, cutting him off with the kind of confidence only a four-year-old could muster.
"Yup!" Terria chirped, nodding eagerly. "He keeps sayin' it. Every day. All the time!"
Sonia raised a finger. "Since that funny old man came to visit. The one with the messy hair and weird eyes who said Matt was suuuper special."
Theresia blinked. "Old man?"
Matthew shifted uncomfortably.
Asvin's expression changed. He didn't speak right away, his gaze narrowing slightly. Unlike his sister, he was a Fighter. And he could see it—those faint blue threads, like strands of mist, weaving around Matthew like a quiet storm just beneath the surface.
He hadn't noticed it yesterday, not in the chaos of battle. But here and now, in the calm, it was clearer than ever. That old man—whoever he was—hadn't been wrong. Matthew was special. Something rare. Something dangerous, even.
Theresia, meanwhile, just tilted her head and smiled at the boy. "Red Sage, huh? That sounds even fancier than Fierce Lion. Do I get to be the Big Sis of a Sage now?"
Matthew didn't answer right away, still looking down, hands curling slightly at his sides.
Asvin crossed his arms again, gaze lingering on the boy with quiet conflict in his eyes.
Theresia chuckled after her light-hearted comment, but there was a flicker in her expression—just a small one—as if she'd caught herself veering too close to something she didn't want to confront. So she quickly added, "Well, maybe someday, far in the future, you can become a Red Sage or whatever title you like. But for now, you should focus on building that little body of yours into something strong! Wouldn't it be even cooler to be both a knight and a sage?"
Terria gasped with wonder, eyes sparkling. "A knight and a sage?!"
Sonia clapped her little hands. "Matt would be soooo strong and sooo smart!"
Their excitement was pure and unfiltered, unaware of the weight hanging in the air.
Asvin gave a small nod, folding his arms and leaning against the doorframe. "My sister has a point, Matthew. You won't be able to protect anyone without a strong body. Learning Arts is fine, but if you can't even lift a sword—"
"I know," Matthew interrupted softly.
The room quieted for a moment.
He looked down, voice low. "I know what you're trying to do. Both of you."
Theresia blinked, her smile faltering slightly.
"I'm… I'm not staying," Matthew said, barely above a whisper.
Asvin closed his eyes, not surprised—but it still hit him like a stone to the chest.
Theresia's brow furrowed. "What do you mean, you're not staying?"
Matthew looked up at her, at the warmth in her gaze, the care she'd already shown him without even knowing him. And then past her—to the two little girls still smiling, still hopeful. His throat tightened.
"I'm going to the orphanage," he said, the words heavier than they should've been for a boy his age. "Or… wherever I end up. I have to learn the Arts. And your father doesn't allow anyone in the family to train in them, right?"
He didn't say it with bitterness—just quiet finality.
Terria and Sonia tilted their heads, not quite understanding yet. Their world was still too soft, too safe.
But Theresia… her smile faded completely. "Wait… what? But—"
Matthew didn't answer right away. Because harder than telling her… was knowing what came next.
He still hadn't told Terria and Sonia. They didn't know.
And that would be the hardest part of all.
Theresia's voice rose before she could stop herself. "Why? Why can't you just stay? We—we can figure something out, I can talk to Father—"
Matthew shook his head slowly, his expression unreadable. "I made a promise," he said, barely above a whisper. "To my parents. I can't break it."
At that, Theresia froze.
The mention of his parents—gone less than a day ago—cut through her like a blade. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. What could she possibly say to that?
She looked at the boy—not even eight years old—and saw someone carrying far more than he ever should.
Terria and Sonia, still too young to understand the full weight of his words, stepped closer, their eyes wide and uncertain.
"What do you mean, Matt?" Terria asked, her small hand tugging at his sleeve.
"Are you… gonna leave us?" Sonia whispered, her lower lip quivering.
Matthew looked down at the floor.
He couldn't bring himself to meet their eyes.
Terria sniffled, her voice trembling as she asked again, "Matt… y-you're really gonna go?"
Her big blue eyes shimmered with tears, and Matthew felt something twist in his chest.
Sonia didn't wait for his answer. She wrapped her little arms around his waist and buried her face in his shirt. "Then I'll go with you," she said through quiet sobs. "Wherever you go, I'll go. You can't leave, you're… you're the last one we have now…"
Matthew's breath caught in his throat.
He looked at the two girls—his sisters in everything but blood. Their tiny figures clung to him like lifelines, like he was the last piece of their broken world still standing. And maybe he was.
But still…
"I…" he started, voice low. "You both belong here. This place, this family… it's safe. It's good. I can't take you with me. I won't."
He gently placed a hand on Sonia's back, not pulling away, just… holding her. The weight of guilt settled heavy in his heart.
Asvin, standing off to the side, swallowed hard. He hated this. All of it.
"But… you're blessed," he said, trying to find a middle ground. "So what if you want to learn the Arts? You can still train as a Fighter too. The One Power helps with both, doesn't it? And with how gifted you are, you'd probably end up some legendary warrior. The Red Spear, or something even cooler."
Theresia nodded quickly, her voice slightly frantic now. "Right! You don't have to give up on your promise, Matt. Not completely. You can train your body here, become stronger. Be a knight and an Arts User later. Please…"
But Matthew only shook his head.
"No," he said quietly. "Fighters… they're not as strong as Arts Users. Not on average. And not at the top."
His eyes were distant now, his voice steady but cold. He wasn't saying it to be rude—just honest.
He had a goal.
And he wasn't turning away from it.
"You're saying that as if Fighters are completely useless compared to Arts Users."
The voice cut through the tension like a blade.
Everyone turned.
Standing at the doorway was a tall, broad-shouldered man with striking blonde hair and a thick, well-groomed beard to match. His blue eyes were sharp and unwavering, carrying the weight of experience—and authority. Dressed in a sleek black uniform lined with silver trim, styled in the fashion of high imperial nobility, he stood like someone used to command. Someone born to it.
Matthew blinked, instinctively straightening his posture. He didn't know who the man was, but something about him… it felt like the air itself had shifted with his arrival.
Still, he didn't back down.
"I'm just saying the truth," Matthew replied, his voice steady. "Arts Users are stronger. That's just how it is."
No fear. No apology.
Just conviction.
Even in front of someone like him.
The man's smile curled at the edges of his beard, amused by the boy's boldness. He stepped further into the room, the weight of his presence pressing gently against everyone like a silent wind.
Asvin opened his mouth to speak—but the man gave him a single glance.
It was enough.
Asvin went quiet.
"A dangerous way of thinking," the man said calmly, "to assume Fighters are lesser. In Decartium alone, the King's Power stands above both the Green Sage and the Yellow Sun—Arts Users of renown, known throughout the land. And then there's the Green Fox of Al-Bark, who carved through entire legions of Arts Users with nothing but his sword and shadow."
He stepped closer, eyes fixed on Matthew. "And that's just the beginning."
But Matthew didn't back down. In fact, he surprised everyone by nodding.
"There's the Red Warrior," he said, crossing his arms. "The Aztalion Bearer. The Dragon Slayer. All Fighters. All Emperor Ranked. All legends."
The man raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
He hadn't expected the boy to agree.
But then Matthew's voice shifted, turning the tables as his expression hardened.
"And yet…"
He looked up at the man now, unflinching.
"Who's the strongest in the world right now?"
The question lingered in the air.
Silence.
The man's smile slowly faded. He didn't answer right away. The truth… wasn't one you could twist.
Finally, he exhaled through his nose. "The Dark Crow."
The name hit the room like a thunderclap.
Even Terria and Sonia flinched.
Matthew's hands balled into fists, his small frame shaking—not with fear, but fury.
The Dark Crow.
The strongest Arts User alive.
The strongest Emperor Ranked individual in the world.
The leader of the Black Tower.
The man who haunted Matthew's dreams.
And the one he had sworn to destroy.
Matthew let out a small sigh, his earlier frustration softening as he looked up at the man. "Aside from the Disasters," he said quietly, "the ones who stand at the very peak… who do people still talk about, even today?"
His eyes narrowed, not with doubt, but certainty.
"Is it the Honor Knight of the Court of Saviors? The one who never lost a duel in his lifetime? Or maybe… the Light Emperor, who ended a war with a single battle?"
The man's smile returned, not out of amusement this time, but out of genuine respect.
"You're right," he admitted with a nod. "Those two are still spoken of across continents. And you're also right about something else—I underestimated you. I wouldn't have guessed a farmer's son would know so much about legends and the world."
Matthew glanced away, trying not to look too proud—but the faint lift of his chin gave him away.
"My mother," he said quietly. "She had a lot of books. Taught me to read and write before I could even hold a shovel properly. After that… I just read everything I could."
The man looked stunned for a moment—pleasantly so.
"Remarkable," he said, his tone carrying weight. "You've not only learned names… but their significance. That kind of knowledge… even some nobles don't bother to understand."
Theresia blinked at Matthew, clearly impressed. "You really are full of surprises," she murmured.
Asvin gave a short laugh, shaking his head. "I feel like I've been tricked. You came off all serious and stubborn, but you're secretly a little scholar."
Even the little girls, who didn't quite follow the details, beamed proudly beside him.
Matthew didn't say anything else. But deep inside, just for a moment, he felt something warm.
He wasn't just a burden here.
Not just some poor kid they saved.
They were… proud of him.
The man cleared his throat softly, the subtle shift in tone quieting the room like a drop of rain in still water.
"I suppose I've forgotten my manners," he said, stepping forward with an air of formality. "My name is John Cavias."
He paused for just a heartbeat before continuing.
"Though most know me by a different title… the Fierce Lion of Decartium. Head of House Cavias."
It was as if something inside Matthew cracked.
John Cavias?
His mind reeled, eyes wide. He stared at the man—not as a stranger anymore, but as a legend. The John Cavias. The very one he'd read about over and over again in his mother's books. The one who created the Red Lion Style of Swordsmanship, whose crimson spear was said to tear through monsters as if they were made of parchment. A hero. A warlord. A man who stood shoulder to shoulder with the strongest in the kingdom.
And he was standing right there, in the same room.
Matthew's mouth opened slightly, but no words came. He looked up at the broad-shouldered man in stunned silence, the pieces clicking together in his head.
The posture.
The pressure.
The sheer presence.
It had been him all along.
John noticed the shift in Matthew's expression and smiled lightly, clearly used to the awe his name inspired.
"And you, boy? What's your name?"
Matthew swallowed, trying to keep his voice steady. "Matthew," he said quietly. "Just… Matthew."
John raised a brow, but said nothing about the lack of a surname. Instead, he simply nodded.
"Well then, Matthew… it's a pleasure to meet you."
—End of Chapter.