Chapter 2
A knock came at the door.
"Come in," Ezra said calmly.
A maid stepped in, dressed in classic medieval garb, her hands folded neatly in front of her.
"Your Highness, His Majesty requests your presence for breakfast," she said with a polite bow.
"I'll be there shortly. Please let him know," Ezra replied.
She nodded and exited with quiet grace.
Ezra stretched and let out a dry chuckle. "From a regular guy to royalty overnight… Feels like a damn cheat code."
Still smirking, he stepped into the adjoining marble-tiled bathroom. It was more luxurious than anything he'd experienced in his previous life. After freshening up, a small team of maids helped him into his finely tailored attire, and he made his way toward the royal dining hall.
⸻
The grand doors opened, and Ezra stepped inside. His eyes were immediately drawn to the man seated at the head of the long dining table—silver-white hair, razor-sharp features, and golden eyes that radiated dominance. His beard was sculpted like a dagger's edge. He sat motionless, exuding a pressure that felt almost lethal.
Maximus De Celestrian.
So that's my father. Touch him and you die. He's a sword in human skin.
For someone who'd grown up an orphan, being in the presence of a father—let alone one like this—was unsettling.
"Come. Sit," Maximus said in a deep, composed voice.
Ezra inclined his head respectfully and took a seat a few chairs down. "Good morning, Father. Good morning, Brother."
Maximus gave a curt nod.
Ezra's older brother, Valerius De Celestrian, glanced at him and offered a rare smile. Infamous across kingdoms as the Demon Sword, Valerius was a prodigy—a nightmare on the battlefield.
"Morning, Ezra. How are you feeling after yesterday's training?" he asked.
Ezra casually picked a fruit from the bowl. "Good."
Maximus spoke between slow sips of tea. "Train hard. If you struggle, speak to me—or your brother."
Ezra nodded silently as the three continued their breakfast.
Moments later, the head butler, Kaelen, entered and bowed. "Your Majesty, the Duke of Natra has arrived. He requests an audience and is waiting in the guest chamber."
Maximus didn't even look up. "Tell him to return at three. I'll see him in the throne room."
Kaelen bowed and left.
Valerius scoffed. "What business dragged that pig here in person?"
Maximus sighed. "Another marriage proposal, most likely. His daughter, again."
Valerius frowned. "Didn't you already turn him down?"
"He holds sway among the nobles. We're at war with the orcs—alienating him now would be unwise. Better to delay than provoke," Maximus said coolly.
Valerius clicked his tongue, clearly irritated, but said nothing more.
As the meal ended, Maximus stood. "Be in the throne room this afternoon. We'll meet the Duke together."
Both sons nodded.
But Ezra's thoughts were already elsewhere.
So, the pig has arrived.
Duke of Natra—the one who started it all.
He remembered the novel vividly. The Duke was secretly aligned with the Phoenix Order, the shadowy force behind the Celestrian family's downfall. His daughter? A venomous spy. She seduced, manipulated, and leaked everything.
They both have to die.
If I want to survive, they can't.
⸻
Later that morning, Ezra arrived at the training grounds, accompanied by his personal maid, Rein.
Waiting for him was a man sitting on a stone bench, polishing a blade. Middle-aged, dressed simply, with piercing black eyes.
"Master," Ezra called.
The man looked up. "Your Highness. Ready for more?"
This was Throne Pendragon—a Rank-7 Swordmaster and younger brother to Duke Pendragon. A monster wrapped in a man's body.
Ezra nodded.
"Since you've already formed your core and reached Rank 1," Throne said, rising, "the next step is to stabilize it. You'll refine your sword techniques and footwork. This is your early growth phase—progress comes quickly, but it's also the most dangerous."
Ezra already knew that. He'd studied the system from cover to cover.
⸻
Core Strength Ranks:
• F-Rank: Baseline human. Weakest tier.
• E-Rank: Slight enhancements. Can't surpass Rank 1.
• D-Rank: The level of trained knights and guards. Can reach Rank 3.
• C-Rank: Talented. With dedication, can hit Rank 5.
• B-Rank: The realm of true prodigies. Capable of Rank 7 or 8.
• A-Rank: Monstrous. Every A-Rank core holder eventually touches Rank 9—the peak.
⸻
Ezra trained under Throne's watchful eye with nothing more than a wooden sword. He practiced until his muscles burned and his shirt clung to him with sweat. Every strike. Every sidestep. Every breath was controlled.
Five years until the Academy arc.
That's when Arthur appears—transmigrated into the body of Arthur Varynx, prince of the Varynx Empire.
I have five years to surpass every main lead.
But before that…
The Duke of Natra dies. His daughter too.
She's already embedded within the Phoenix Order. She goes first.
Oddly, the idea of killing didn't disturb him. It felt… natural. Almost comfortable.
Maybe it was the Celestrian blood. Cold-blooded warriors ran in this family.
⸻
Hours passed. Ezra sparred with Throne, trained mana breathing techniques, and drilled core circulation exercises until the sun reached its peak.
Finally, a maid arrived, bowing. "Your Highness, the Duke is awaiting your presence."
Ezra, drenched and breathing steady, set aside the training sword.
Throne gave a rare nod of approval. "Good work today. Don't forget—practice your mana circulation again tonight."
Ezra met his gaze. "I will."
As he walked away, Throne watched him go, and muttered under his breath:
"What a monster… Mastered a Rank 2 technique in a single day?"
—————-
The throne room of the Celestial Kingdom was a towering monument to two thousand years of imperial rule.
Gilded walls stretched high above, lined with eighteen grand portraits—each one depicting a past king of the Celestrian bloodline. From the high, vaulted ceiling hung a colossal crystal chandelier, bathing the hall in golden light. They were called Celestials for a reason—their lineage, it was said, traced back to the First Age, a time when gods still walked the earth.
At the far end of the hall, seated atop a crimson-draped dais, sat the current ruler:
Marcus De Celestrian, King of the Celestial Kingdom.
To his right stood Valerius, the Crown Prince—battle-hardened, razor-sharp, every inch a future ruler.
To his left stood Ezra, the second prince—young, silent, and watchful, but already bearing the iron will of a Celestrian.
At the foot of the throne, a man in ornate noble attire knelt with rigid formality, his head bowed low.
"I greet the ruler and sun of this kingdom," he said smoothly. "And offer my respects to His Highness, the Crown Prince."
Ezra's eyes narrowed.
Ignored me. Of course.
To most nobles, I'm just a spare. A political afterthought. Especially to someone like him.
Duke William Natra, sovereign of the southern territories, remained bowed until the king gestured with a raised hand.
"Rise, Lord Natra," Marcus commanded. "Speak—what brings you from the far south to my court?"
The Duke stood, his expression solemn. "Your Majesty, the matter I bring is too delicate for letters or magical communication."
Valerius folded his arms, voice dry. "Another marriage proposal, then?"
Seriously, he thought. Is your daughter's hand worth that much?
But William's face darkened.
"No, Your Majesty. My intelligence network has uncovered troubling movements. The Phoenix Order is preparing a large-scale attack—targeting the capital of Natra."
A heavy silence settled over the room.
Marcus's expression turned sharp. "What proof do you have?"
"My spies found mana bombs placed throughout the city—schools, training grounds, even residential blocks. The Order has deeply infiltrated us. And that's not all—our scouts report that the orcs are mobilizing for an invasion."
Valerius's eyes narrowed. "You command the most fortified region in the kingdom. Why not deal with it yourself?"
William bowed slightly. "Under ordinary circumstances, I would. But this is no small force. The orcs number in the tens of thousands, many of them high-ranked. My soldiers won't be enough alone."
Marcus leaned forward, fingers steepled. "Very well. I will dispatch the crown prince, the knight captain, and a battalion of a thousand elites."
William lowered his head again. "Your Majesty is wise and generous."
From the king's left, Ezra stepped forward.
"Father," he said with quiet respect, "if I may—I'd like to accompany them. The experience would be invaluable."
Valerius turned, frowning. "You're too young. Even the weakest orc fights like a Rank 2."
"I know," Ezra said. "But with you and the others leading, I'll be safe. And if I become a burden, I'll stay behind at the estate."
Valerius studied him for a moment. Then he sighed. "Fine. But you follow my orders. No heroics."
Ezra bowed. "Of course."
Marcus gave the final command. "You depart tomorrow. Use the warp gate. This cannot wait."
William bowed again, deeper this time. "Thank you, Your Majesty."
As the heavy doors closed behind the Duke, Marcus turned to Valerius.
"Send the shadows. Have them investigate the Phoenix Order's ties to Natra. Bring some of them with you. And… keep an eye on the Duke's daughter. Recent reports suggest a possible connection to the Order."
Valerius nodded once. "Understood."
Without another word, he turned and walked out of the throne room—Ezra silently falling into step behind him.
Ezra's thoughts burned with clarity.
So Father does suspect them. Good.
They only came to us to lure Valerius into a trap. Their plan was simple:
Use a love potion. Make him fall for that snake of a daughter. Bind him emotionally—and then manipulate him like a puppet.
Then during the coming rebellion, they'd strike.
Kill the king.
Kill me.
And place Valerius on the throne… as their puppet.
Not this time.