The night the Archmagician vanished, silence returned to House Aurelion.
No thunder followed.No divine sign appeared.
Yet every knight felt it.
Something had changed.
Inside the mansion, James slept peacefully—his breathing calm, his body warm. The terrifying pressure that had shaken the estate was gone, hidden behind layers of seals.
But the red aura had not disappeared.
It had only gone quiet.
Three days later, under a crimson dawn, the Birth Name Ceremony was held.
This ceremony was sacred among noble families. The name given at birth was believed to shape the child's destiny, binding soul and blood together.
The grand hall of House Aurelion was filled with elders, knights, and family retainers. All wore black and red, the colors of the Silent Blade.
At the center stood Duke Aldric Aurelion.
In his arms lay the child.
James.
The child's eyes were closed, but the air around him felt heavy—like a blade resting in its sheath.
An elder stepped forward."My Lord Duke," he said, "Speak the name that shall bind his fate."
Aldric looked down at his son.
For a brief moment, memories flashed through his mind—the Archmagician's words,the seals,the fear hidden behind ancient eyes.
Aldric tightened his grip.
"This child," he said calmly, "was born under silence, not chaos."
The hall went completely still.
"I name him Alric Aurelion."
The moment the name was spoken, the candles flickered.
A faint red aura pulse passed through the room—soft, controlled, almost respectful.
The elders bowed.
Thus, the name Alric Aurelion was carved into fate.
Time passed.
Five years.
The world forgot the strange night.
But House Aurelion never did.
At the age of five, Alric stood in the training courtyard, holding a wooden sword nearly half his height.
His red eyes—sharp for a child—followed every movement around him.
He did not cry.
He did not complain.
He watched.
Opposite him stood a tall man with scars across his arms and a calm, dangerous presence.
His name was Sir Kael Varryn.
The Executive Blade of House Aurelion.
Second only to Duke Aldric himself.
Sir Kael knelt, meeting Alric's eyes.
"From today," he said, "your sword training begins."
Alric tightened his grip on the wooden blade.
"Yes, Master," he replied.
Kael's eyebrow twitched.
Five years old.
No hesitation.
No fear.
Training was brutal.
Footwork.Stance.Balance.Breathing.
No aura.
No shortcuts.
House Aurelion taught one rule above all:
A blade without control is just noise.
Alric learned fast.
Too fast.
By the age of six, he could already sense movements behind him.By seven, his strikes carried weight no child should possess."By eight," knights whispered.
Something was wrong.
On his ninth birthday, Alric woke up in the middle of the night.
The room felt… different.
Heavy.
The air vibrated.
His body burned—not painfully, but intensely, like something trying to escape.
Suddenly—
A presence emerged.
Not from outside.
From inside him.
A formless figure appeared before him—neither light nor shadow. Its voice echoed directly inside his mind.
"Do not be afraid."
Alric's breathing remained steady.
"Who are you?" he asked calmly.
The presence paused.
Then spoke slowly.
"I am a guide."
A strange energy poured out of Alric's body—a divine mixture, calm yet terrifying. It did not feel holy. It did not feel evil.
It felt ancient.
Balanced.
"Your body carries something this world cannot name," the guide continued."Gods fear it. Demons reject it."
Alric clenched his fists.
"Why me?"
The guide's voice softened.
"Because you were born under a broken sky."
The presence began to fade.
"Train your blade. Control your aura.When the final seal breaks…You must be ready."
"Ready for what?" Alric demanded.
Silence.
The room returned to normal.
But Alric knew—
He was no longer alone.
And somewhere beyond the seals…
Something had just begun to awaken.
End of Chapter 5