Eighteen years.
That was how long he'd been alive in this world.
And yet it all felt… empty.
Noah Vale stood at the edge of the balcony, watching the wind carry leaves across the courtyard below. He'd walked these halls a thousand times. Sat through quiet dinners. Listened to people call him "Young Master" with forced smiles.
But it was all meaningless.
No magic.
No Gate.
No future.
Just existence.
And for the first time in his life, that wasn't enough anymore.
He found his uncle in the inner study.
Thorne Vale, now the official lord of the manor after Corven's mysterious disappearance years ago, sat by the fireplace, reading reports from the estate's northern border.
He looked up when Noah entered.
"You're awake early," Thorne said.
"I haven't slept."
The older man set the papers down. "Something wrong?"
Noah stepped forward. There was no anger in his voice. No desperation. Just quiet, patient resolve.
"I want to start training."
Thorne's eyes narrowed. "Training? What kind of training?"
"Physical," Noah said. "Basic weaponry. Endurance. Defense."
Thorne leaned back in his chair. "You know you can't—"
"I know I have no Gate," Noah interrupted, calmly. "I know I'll never cast a spell. I'll never wield elemental energy. I'll never stand in the royal guard or pass a mage trial."
He looked Thorne dead in the eye.
"But I can still bleed."
Silence.
"I may be Hollow," Noah continued, "but I can still be cut. Still be hunted. Still be attacked by people with less mercy than you."
Thorne said nothing.
"So if I can't become a mage… or a soldier… I can at least become someone who won't die kneeling."
The words hung in the air like smoke.
Thorne closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, something flickered behind the sadness—a mix of pride and regret.
"You're your father's son," he said softly. "More than you know."
Noah didn't respond.
After a long silence, Thorne stood.
"As Lord of this house," he said formally, "I can't allow unauthorized training on this estate. If your father's enemies ever return… they might still watch this place."
"But…" he added, walking to a nearby desk, "there is an affiliate estate. A quiet property, on the outer edge of the province. We bought it for emergencies… but it's yours now."
Noah blinked. "You're serious?"
"I'm allowing it," Thorne nodded. "But you'll take only what's necessary. No staff. No soldiers. Just a few trusted servants."
"I'll take Yuni," Noah said instantly.
Thorne smiled faintly. "Of course you will."
By the end of the day, preparations were underway.
Noah packed lightly. He didn't own much. A few blank journals. Some worn clothes. A wooden practice sword—cheap, but solid. He left behind the empty rooms, the forced smiles, and the whispers.
And that night, as the carriage rolled away from Vale Manor, Yuni sitting silently across from him…
Noah looked out at the dark sky.
For the first time in eighteen years, the road ahead of him wasn't blocked.
It was open.
And whatever lay beyond The Seal Gate that bound his life—he was ready to walk toward it.
Step by step.
Alone or not, weak or not… he would fight for his place in this world.