The alarm rang before dawn.
A sharp mechanical tone echoed through the silent chamber.
Lucian Pendragon's crimson eyes opened immediately.
No grogginess.
No hesitation.
He had trained his mind to wake instantly.
For a moment he simply stared at the ceiling.
Four months.
That was the time remaining before the Arcanum Continental Academy entrance examination.
Four months before the world's stage would open.
Lucian slowly sat up.
Cold morning air brushed against his pale skin as he swung his legs off the bed.
The faint outline of a dragon tattoo flickered across his chest for a brief moment before fading again.
Deep within his soul, the Ancient Chaos Void Dragon remained silent.
Lucian stood up and walked toward the bathroom.
Steam soon filled the marble chamber as warm water poured from the shower.
He stood under it quietly.
The water washed over his long white hair and down his shoulders.
"…Routine."
Lucian muttered softly.
Strength was not built through talent alone.
It was built through repetition.
Through discipline.
Through pain.
After finishing his shower, he dried his hair and wore a simple set of dark training clothes.
Nothing extravagant.
Just practical attire that allowed free movement.
When he stepped outside his room, the hallway was empty.
Most of the Pendragon estate was still asleep.
Lucian preferred it that way.
Silence helped him focus.
He walked through several corridors until he reached the private training grounds reserved for the main family members.
The doors opened with a heavy metallic sound.
Inside, the massive hall stretched nearly fifty meters across.
Training dummies.
Weapon racks.
Reinforced walls capable of withstanding magical impacts.
Lucian walked to the center of the room.
Then he picked up a sword.
A simple steel practice blade.
He held it loosely in one hand.
For several seconds—
He didn't move.
His breathing slowed.
His mind emptied.
Then—
He swung.
A simple downward cut.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Lucian Pendragon had set a personal rule.
Every day.
One hundred thousand sword swings.
No excuses.
No shortcuts.
Just repetition.
The blade cut through the air with quiet precision.
Slash.
Slash.
Slash.
Hours passed.
Sweat gradually formed along Lucian's forehead.
His arms began to ache.
But his movements never slowed.
Each strike became slightly smoother.
Slightly more controlled.
The foundation of swordsmanship was simple.
Balance.
Precision.
Control.
Lucian repeated the basic movements endlessly.
Vertical cut.
Horizontal cut.
Diagonal slash.
Thrust.
Step.
Slash again.
Thousands of repetitions slowly carved the movements into his muscles.
By the time the sun rose above the estate walls—
Lucian had already completed nearly half his swings.
Eventually he stopped.
His arms trembled slightly from exhaustion.
But his expression remained calm.
Lucian placed the sword aside and sat cross-legged on the floor.
Now came the second part of his training.
Mana control.
The Authority granted by the Chaos Void Dragon had given him something far more valuable than raw power.
It had given him understanding.
Lucian closed his eyes.
Mana slowly gathered around him.
Invisible currents flowed through the air.
Lucian extended his senses.
One by one—
He began interacting with his affinities.
First—
Fire.
A tiny flame appeared above his palm.
Lucian carefully compressed it.
Expanded it.
Split it into two smaller flames.
Then extinguished them.
Next—
Ice.
Cold energy formed delicate frost patterns across the floor.
Lucian manipulated the frost into small crystalline shapes before dissolving them again.
Then—
Lightning.
Crackling sparks danced along his fingertips.
This affinity responded to him the fastest.
Perhaps because it had already reached Master stage.
Lucian controlled the lightning carefully.
A thin bolt extended outward.
Then curved.
Then split.
Then vanished.
Next came Wood affinity.
Small green energy threads formed around his hands like living vines.
Lucian guided them through the air slowly.
Finally—
He tested Blood affinity.
A dangerous power.
Lucian only experimented lightly.
Thin crimson energy threads formed briefly before he dispersed them again.
Lucian opened his eyes.
"…Control is still lacking."
Affinity power meant nothing without precision.
Raw power without control was simply destruction.
Lucian wanted something different.
Perfect mastery.
He repeated the process again.
And again.
For hours.
By the time Lucian finished his training session—
The sun had already passed midday.
He walked toward the estate dining hall.
Servants immediately bowed when they saw him.
One man approached respectfully.
Roman.
The Pendragon family's senior butler.
"Young Master, your meal has been prepared."
Lucian nodded slightly.
"…Good."
Roman gestured toward the table.
Today's meal consisted of roasted meat from an Advanced Rank Beast.
A luxury item.
Extremely expensive.
Most noble families could not afford such food regularly.
But the Pendragons were different.
Their wealth allowed such indulgence.
Lucian sat down quietly.
Advanced-rank beast meat contained dense mana.
Consuming it accelerated physical recovery and strengthened the body.
Lucian finished the entire plate without wasting a single bite.
Roman watched calmly.
"Would you like another serving, Young Master?"
Lucian shook his head.
"…Later."
After eating, he returned to the training hall.
This time—
He approached the weapon racks.
Rows of weapons stood neatly arranged.
Axes.
Spears.
Daggers.
Halberds.
Bows.
Lucian picked up a spear.
He tried several basic movements.
Thrust.
Sweep.
Spin.
But something felt wrong.
The weapon felt unfamiliar.
Unnatural.
Lucian frowned slightly.
"…I don't understand it."
He returned the spear.
Then tried a dagger.
Same result.
Then a halberd.
Even worse.
Lucian sighed faintly.
Swordsmanship was the only weapon that felt natural to him.
Perhaps because his Class was Sword Supreme.
But Lucian didn't want to limit himself.
He wanted versatility.
Every weapon had advantages.
If he could master multiple weapons—
His combat options would increase drastically.
Lucian leaned against the weapon rack.
A thought crossed his mind.
His eldest cousin.
The most famous martial prodigy of the Pendragon family.
A woman known across the continent.
Weapon Grandmaster.
She had mastered nearly every weapon in existence.
Sword and spear both at Grandmaster level.
The highest rank achievable on the continent.
Her name was recognized worldwide.
She was also one of the Twelve Star Prodigies acknowledged by the continental ranking system.
Lucian considered asking her for guidance.
For several seconds he remained silent.
Then he shook his head.
"…No."
She was constantly busy.
Missions.
Tournaments.
Political obligations.
Lucian didn't want to waste her time.
"…I'll figure it out myself."
So he continued practicing.
Day after day.
Week after week.
Sword swings.
Mana manipulation.
Weapon experimentation.
Physical conditioning.
The routine never changed.
Every morning—
100,000 sword swings.
Every afternoon—
Affinity control training.
Every evening—
Physical conditioning and weapon experimentation.
Lucian's progress was slow.
But steady.
Eventually—
He added another step to his routine.
Combat.
Lucian approached the Pendragon knight commander.
A towering warrior known as Sir Garrick.
One of the strongest knights in the household.
Lucian looked at him calmly.
"…Spar with me."
Sir Garrick hesitated.
"Young Master… are you certain?"
Lucian nodded.
"…Do not hold back."
The knight frowned.
But eventually he agreed.
Their first match lasted less than ten seconds.
Lucian was defeated instantly.
The wooden sword flew from his hands.
His body hit the ground hard.
Pain spread through his back.
Sir Garrick stepped forward nervously.
"Young Master—"
Lucian stood up.
"…Again."
The knight hesitated.
But Lucian's eyes were calm.
So they fought again.
And again.
And again.
Lucian lost every single match.
Sometimes in seconds.
Sometimes slightly longer.
But every defeat taught him something.
Footwork.
Timing.
Positioning.
Reading an opponent's stance.
Day after day—
Lucian returned to spar.
Each time—
He improved slightly.
His movements became sharper.
His reactions faster.
His sword strikes more precise.
Even Sir Garrick began noticing the change.
After one particularly intense match—
Lucian collapsed onto the ground breathing heavily.
Sir Garrick looked down at him.
"…Your improvement is terrifying, Young Master."
Lucian wiped sweat from his forehead.
"…Not enough."
Because the academy entrance exam was approaching.
And Lucian knew something important.
The academy wasn't simply a school.
It was a battlefield disguised as education.
A place where prodigies gathered.
A place where the future monsters of the continent would be born.
Lucian slowly stood up again.
He picked up his sword.
His crimson eyes looked calm.
But inside—
His determination burned like a silent flame.
"…Again."
Sir Garrick sighed.
Then raised his sword once more.
And the training continued.
Day after day.
Week after week.
Four months slowly began to shrink.
The storm was approaching.
And Lucian Pendragon was quietly sharpening his blade for it.