The Valehart estate was no stranger to rumors. Some whispered about the son who had changed; others wondered what plans simmered behind his cool gaze.
Lucius Valehart returned not with a boast or announcement, but with measured steps and carefully chosen words.
His absence had been noted, but explanations were simple: a hunting trip, business with distant allies, personal matters. Enough to satisfy idle curiosity, but nothing to draw attention.
At court dinners and gatherings, Lucius spoke little, observing more than engaging. When asked about his travels, he deflected with vague mentions of "seeking knowledge" and "understanding the world better."
The nobles exchanged glances, some intrigued, others suspicious. But no one pressed.
It was as he preferred.
Quiet. Controlled. Unremarkable on the surface.
Lucius found himself restless in the grand halls. The political games, the constant eyes, the expectations—they weighed on him more than ever.
If he was to prepare for what was coming, he needed space.
A place untouched by gossip and duty.
A home of his own.
Not far from the estate lay a forest—dense, ancient, and forgotten by most. Its shadows promised solitude and safety.
Lucius set his sights there.
He secured a tract of land through intermediaries, careful not to reveal his hand.
The site was perfect: a small clearing surrounded by towering pines, with a clear spring nearby.
Over the following weeks, construction began in secrecy.
No lavish stone manor or towering walls—just a modest, sturdy cabin built to blend with the forest.
Inside, simple furnishings and essentials. No servants, no guests. Just him, the quiet, and the steady pulse of mana that now rested in his heart.
Lucius spent his days training in the woods, mastering the Shield Pathway's endurance and patience.
But beneath the calm surface, a storm was approaching.
A deadline—marked not by clocks or calendars, but by the awakening of a cursed power in the Land of Death.
The information came quietly, as all important things did in his world.
A trusted informant, a scholar with connections to the darker corners of the empire, slipped a single sheet of parchment into Lucius's hands during one of his rare visits to the city.
It detailed rumors and half-confirmed reports: in six months' time, the Blood Viper ability — a cursed power long sealed in the Land of Death — was set to awaken again.
The Land of Death was no place for the fainthearted. Twisted terrain, ruled by dark elves, where pain itself could be transformed into power. The Blood Viper was a force of destruction and torment, one Lucius had no intention of facing unprepared.
Six months.
A deadline as sharp and unforgiving as a blade.
Lucius folded the parchment carefully, eyes narrowing.
He could not afford distraction. Nor could he delay.
His training had to accelerate — not reckless bursts, but steady, relentless growth.
The Shield Pathway gave him resilience. It would be his foundation.
But it was not enough.
He needed to reach a level of mastery sufficient to defend himself — and protect those few he cared for — before the Blood Viper power stirred the land into chaos.
He set the boundaries clearly in his mind:
Six months of rigorous training.
No distractions.
No unnecessary risks.
Just preparation.
Returning to his cabin deep in the forest, Lucius laid out his plans meticulously.
Days began with meditation, centering his mana and listening to the pulse of the Shield within his heart.
Afternoons were spent in physical conditioning — pushing his body to endure longer, resist harder, flow with the natural rhythm of the forest around him.
Nights were for study. Old tomes and scrolls, some from the Valehart archives, others from secret collections he'd acquired over the years. All knowledge was fuel.
There was a strange comfort in this solitary grind.
No court politics. No false smiles.
Just the quiet, the forest, and the slow burn of power awakening inside him.
But the deadline loomed.
A silent promise that rest was a luxury he could not afford.
Lucius glanced toward the window as dawn crept through the trees.
The forest was still quiet.
Too quiet.
But soon, it would be anything but.