Sigh… not again.
I opened my eyes, the remnants of that strange sensation lingering. It was something I couldn't put into words—like waking from a dream you can't quite remember, yet knowing with absolute certainty it wasn't a dream at all.
I'd been feeling this ever since I regressed, and even after a week, it hadn't faded.
Another sigh escaped me. My gaze fell on Charlotte, slumped beside the bed, her head resting on its edge as if the mattress itself were her pillow.
Faint trails of dried tears marked her cheeks. She was sleeping soundly, perhaps worn out from crying over the fact that I had fainted.
Gently, I reached out and patted her head. Then, with care, I lifted her into the bed and laid her down properly so she could rest in comfort.
Now… it was time to check my mana core.
I muttered the words under my breath, excitement rising as I recalled the last thing I remembered before losing consciousness. Settling cross-legged on the bed, I closed my eyes and directed all my focus inward.
Gasp.
A sharp breath slipped past my lips.
I had expected my mana core to have evolved… but not to this extent.
It was magnificent—wondrous to the point of disbelief—how drastically it had transformed.
I remembered attempting to evolve it with a method that, in my original timeline, hadn't even been invented yet. A perilous method. The man who had created it stumbled upon it by pure accident, and never once had I imagined I would put it into practice myself.
For me, it had been dangerous. For beginners, it would be outright suicidal. Only those who had yet to reach the First Severance could attempt it—and even then, it was almost impossible. The technique demanded absolute, razor-sharp control over every thread of mana one had drawn in during cultivation.
My mana core, once of mid grade, was now teetering on the edge of becoming high grade. Such a leap was unheard of in the entire history of mankind… at least, for now.
With a core like this, my path forward would be far smoother. I wouldn't have to endure years of grueling struggle just to reach the Second Severance.
And now that I had stepped into the First Severance, it was time to begin my plans. But before that, I needed to perfect my Footless Steps.
I possessed the memories of using the technique, and I could even replicate it, but memory alone wasn't enough. My body needed to learn it—to commit every movement to muscle memory—so I could execute it instinctively, without thought.
"Vern…"
As I was lost in thought, Charlotte's voice reached my ears.
"Hmm? You're awake?" I asked with a faint hum. "Did you sleep well?"
"Yes, I did… Oh, but what happened to you yesterday?" Her expression was tinged with worry.
"Nothing serious—just a bit of mana disorder and fatigue from the day." I offered the excuse smoothly.
"Hmm… now that I think about it, it did seem like that." She tilted her head, a look on her face clearly asking for praise. "And I didn't even call anyone from the house."
"You did well." I reached out and patted her head, satisfying her unspoken request.
"Although it's morning, you should get some more rest," I added, remembering how she had cried while I was unconscious and hadn't slept properly.
She pulled the blanket over her shoulders. "Okay… What about you? Heading to the gymnasium?"
She knew me too well, now that I thought about it. Still just a child, yet she understood me better than anyone I had known—at least, until the day I died.
"Yes. And I'll tell the maids to prepare breakfast so you can sleep a bit longer."
"Mm… I'm sleepy, so I'll sleep. Wake me up after you finish training." Without waiting for a reply, she closed her eyes—and somehow fell asleep instantly.
I shook my head slightly. It was impressive how quickly she could drift off. Some things… wouldn't change, no matter how many times the world turned over.
Letting out a quiet breath, I rose from the bed and moved silently so as not to wake her. The morning air felt cool against my skin as I changed into my training gear. With practiced ease, I tied my hair into a knot, glanced once more at Charlotte, and slipped out of the room toward the gymnasium.
******
"Dave, what are you doing? How many times have I told you—you should be spending most of your time training!"
A woman with brown hair stood before him, her eyes shadowed by dark circles, her forehead lined with deep wrinkles. She was Sofia, the head of the house's first wife.
"I know, but… training is boring," Dave replied, his voice meek, like a deer surrendering to a lion.
"Boring or exciting—it doesn't matter. You must do it. If you don't, you'll be thrown out of the house when the youngest inherits the throne. Do you understand?" Her voice was sharp and cold.
"Yes, I do… but I can't help it. After I reached the Second Severance at fifteen, I thought it would be easy to reach Third Severance. But even after a year, I can't see any progress," Dave said, gloom in his tone.
"You fool!" Slap!
Sofia's hand struck his right cheek.
"Mom…?" Dave looked at her, stunned.
"How many times have I told you? For many, reaching Third Severance is harder than reaching Fourth! You just need to put in the effort—nothing else. Now go and start your training." Her frown deepened.
"...Okay," Dave muttered, still gloomy.
"And tell Vincen to meet me."
"Yes."
"You can go now."
"Yes…" he murmured again, before turning and leaving the room.
This idiotic fool.
Sofia ground her teeth. The news had shaken her—Ronan's rapid growth was already frightening enough, and now she had learned that William, the family's second-in-command, was personally teaching him.
She knew exactly how much talent Ronan possessed. Dave, while not lacking in martial arts ability, was nothing in comparison.
Haa… Sofia let out a long sigh, clutching her forehead as she sank into a chair. The luxurious bedroom around her was adorned with ornate decorations—gold-trimmed frames, finely woven rugs, and paintings that told the history of their house.
If I don't take action soon, Ronan and that bitch Elena will seize control of this entire family.
Another sigh escaped her lips. I should speak with my brother…
Saying so, she rose from her chair and opened the door to her room. After stepping out, she shut it behind her and began walking down the corridor. A few moments later, she passed through the palace gates—the palace named after her—and made her way toward the main house.
I should talk about this first, she murmured to herself as she walked.
Along the way, several servants and knights greeted her with polite respect, but she paid them no mind. Before long, she reached the main house's gate, where several knights stood guard.
In House Kael, no one except the family head was allowed to command knights. Each family member was permitted only two escort knights, but House Kael's security was so tight and the estate so heavily guarded that some considered having escorts more of a nuisance than a necessity.
"Good morning, First Lady of the house," the two knights guarding the main gate greeted her in unison.
"Is the patriarch in the house?" she asked, her tone laced with arrogance.
"Yes, he is in the house," one of the guards replied.
"Hmm." She gave them a curt nod and walked through the main gate. In House Kael, it was mandatory for everyone to show respect to the knights—so she neither questioned them further nor acted discourteously.
After a short walk, she stood before the audience chamber.
"First Lady? What brings you here?" a middle-aged man dressed like a butler asked as he saw her approach.
"Is the patriarch available?" she inquired.
"Yes, but allow me to get his permission first." The man bowed slightly and stepped into the audience chamber.
Sofia waited patiently for a few moments before the butler returned and opened the door. "You may enter."
Heeding his words, she stepped inside the audience chamber.
As she stepped into the audience chamber, its vast interior unfolded before her eyes. The hall was massive—capable of hosting at least two hundred people at once. Rows of seats lined the chamber, each bearing an engraved nameplate such as Heavenly Armed Forces and other distinguished divisions. At the highest seat in the center, elevated above all others, sat the patriarch, Vitra Kael, his chin resting upon one hand in a posture of calm authority.
"I greet the head of the house," she said, kneeling to pay her respects.
"Hmm… you may rise," Vitra ordered with a low hum.
"Yes…" She stood, her posture straight yet tense.
"Why are you here?" Vitra asked, his gaze bored and unreadable.
"I… I—" she stuttered for a moment, then drew in a deep breath to steady herself. "I came to request an artifact."