As Astra awoke, the soft glow of twilight crept through the window, painting delicate shadows across the walls of his luxurious room. Another night in Duskfall—the city that never sleeps. Another night to play the game.
He stretched, surprised at how strong, how alive his body felt. So this is what rest feels like? Gone were the aches of alleys and cold floors or even shitty inns, the exhaustion that used to gnaw at him like a parasite. His body hummed with vitality, a gift he hadn't asked for but would not waste.
The change had been gradual, yet staring at his reflection now, it was undeniable. His curls no longer wild, but falling in soft waves. His skin faintly aglow, like starlight had brushed him. His violet eyes—once dull and weary—now sharper, alive with something that could not be mistaken for weakness.
He leaned closer to the mirror. A noble's face looked back, handsome, poised, far removed from the ragged boy who had first walked these streets. Astra smirked. Strange. I've worn disguises all my life, yet this one feels the most convincing. Almost like I belong among them. Almost
But the thought lingered bitterly. Belong? No. This is armor, not truth. The old Astra still walks with me, buried under silk and shadow.
With a soft exhale, he turned toward the window. Night unfurled its cloak across Duskfall, the cities violet twilight drowning the stars, though he imagined they still watched. The gods, the hunters, the enemies I cannot see—they're all out there. But so is opportunity.
His jaw tightened, the smirk fading into something steadier. It was time to move.
....
Astra descended into the inn's dining hall, the scent of sizzling meats and fresh bread washing over him. Voices rose and fell in a low, cultivated murmur—nobles speaking of politics, markets, rumors. The occasional clink of cutlery against fine glass rang like punctuation marks to their conversations.
He moved through the hall with unhurried steps, Nightshroud draped over his shoulders like a quiet declaration of belonging. Here, he wasn't the street-worn survivor of Duskfall—he was someone to be noticed, but never questioned.
At the counter, Astra leaned casually, violet eyes glinting. "A plate of eggs, mana beast steak—something domesticated, not wild—and…" his lips curved in a sly smile, "an alcoholic lemonade."
The innkeeper, a sharp-eyed woman seasoned by years of dealing with wealthy brats and mercenaries alike, arched a brow. "Drinking already, my lord?"
"Breakfast isn't complete without a touch of indulgence," Astra replied, tone smooth as silk.
She shrugged, scribbled the order, and left him to his thoughts. Soon, the meal arrived—golden eggs steaming, a thick slab of steak glistening with juices, and a frosted glass that smelled faintly of citrus and spirits.
Astra cut into the meat, savoring the tenderness, the rich burst of flavor. Gods, when was the last time I ate like this? He couldn't remember. Meals like this weren't food; they were reminders of a world he had always been barred from, until now. He relished each bite as though trying to make up for lost years.
But halfway through, reality jabbed at him. His funds. He had been spending as though the weight of money meant little, but the truth was uglier—he was down to scraps. At this pace, he would be broke in days.
His brow furrowed. I can't keep bleeding coin like this. I'll need work… or theft. No—think smarter. The House must have left something behind.
He drew out the Regal Coin, tapping it lightly. The artifact pulsed faintly, opening the House of Night's archives within his vision. He sifted quickly through records, half-expecting nothing of worth.
Then his gaze froze.
[Funds: 1000 Gold Standards (Monthly Stipend)]
Astra blinked. Tapped again. Refreshed. Looked closer.
Still there. 1000 gold. Every single month.
His thoughts stalled, the numbers circling his mind with a surreal glow. This… this can't be real. This is more wealth than I've ever touched in my life. This is freedom. This is—
The revelation hit him so hard his balance faltered. His chair tipped, and he crashed onto the polished floor with a graceless thud.
A few nobles turned, amused smirks tugging at their lips, assuming he had simply overindulged in morning drink. None cared beyond the momentary entertainment.
But Astra, sprawled on the floor, didn't notice their laughter.
He was too busy staring at the ceiling, mind reeling, heart hammering, lips twisting into a disbelieving grin.
I'm rich.
For the first time in years, money was no longer a problem. The weight of survival—the gnawing questions of where the next meal would come from, whether the blade at his side would last another fight, or if he'd have to sell scraps of dignity just to buy ink and parchment for spellwork—evaporated in an instant.
He could afford training halls. Weapons forged to specification. Rare tomes, spell reagents, tutors. He could even afford to waste coin—hell, he could drown himself in alcoholic lemonade for a century and barely dent his stipend.
Flat on his back, staring up at the carved wooden ceiling beams of the dining hall, Astra let out a long, incredulous breath. A grin tugged at his lips before he could stop it.
"…Well, damn."
He sat up slowly, Regal Coin gleaming in his palm, and stared at it as though it had just handed him the keys to heaven itself. A thousand gold standards. Every. Single. Month.
His thumb brushed over its surface, tracing the crest etched into its face, the faint mana hum thrumming like a heartbeat against his skin.
He pulled the coin closer, accessing the network again, mind racing. Gossip articles. Market ledgers. Noble accounts. He skimmed through the dull, meticulous data with wide eyes.
Most minor house nobles only spent around five thousand gold every four months.
Astra froze. Blinked. Read it again.
He shut the projection and leaned back, breathless laughter spilling from him.
That meant—him, the boy who used to steal stale bread from gutter stalls—he now had more raw spending power than titled nobles whose families had ruled land for generations. More than entire bloodlines that clung desperately to prestige while watching their estates crumble to dust.
And this was just the stipend. Just the baseline, the allowance. The pocket change.
The coin sat in his hand like a mocking miracle. House Night had been dust for centuries, a relic whispered about in temples and curses—and yet here it was, casually funneling wealth into his hands as though the House still sat unchallenged on the throne of the world.
His grip tightened. His violet eyes reflected the coin's glow, an emotion somewhere between wonder and fury clawing at his chest.
How many years had I bled, starved, clawed, stolen… for scraps? How many times did I curse myself for being born to a forgotten name? And now, with one artifact—one glimpse of an inheritance—I'm wealthier than men who have known nothing but luxury their entire lives.
He sank into the chair again, his breath unsteady. For once, words failed him. He wasn't just rich.
He was absurdly, ridiculously, stupidly rich.
A dry laugh broke from him, quiet enough that only he heard it.
"…I need another drink."
Astra sat in the noble lounge of the inn, his Regal Coin in hand, still scrolling through the mana network. The interface shimmered with a clip of a News mage from the guild of News reporting.
It was titled The Stars and Shadows—A Celestial Phenomenon?
He stopped when a familiar face appeared on the Regal Coin's interface.
A tall man with clean, handsome features, striking emerald eyes, and a voice warm enough to soothe a storm.Hilbert Edison—the Information Saint.A man as famous as any royal heir, not for power alone but for his position: the Guild of News' foremost reporter, protected by divine artifacts and angels who ensured he could speak freely where mortals could not.
"Scholars and mages alike remain baffled by the celestial disturbance witnessed last night," Hilbert announced, tone calm but edged with intrigue. Behind him, astral diagrams rotated in slow orbit. "Witnesses reported stars flaring with unnatural intensity and shadows behaving like living things. When questioned, the Officials of House Dusk declined to comment, advising the Guild to act 'according to our status.'"
He smiled, a little too knowingly.
"A fine warning, but our analysts care little for the secrets of Great Houses and their ploys. We are the Guild of News. We report events as they are—not as certain people would prefer." He tapped his papers lightly. "What we do know is this: multiple realms experienced mana disturbances. multiple churches have mobilized their Saints. Whether caused by a divine artifact or something more arcane, one thing is certain—there will be plenty to report."
The saint smiled again before the clip ended.
Astra exhaled through his nose, amused."What a crazy guy."He couldn't imagine any ordinary Demi-god speaking that casually about Great Houses or Churches. But Hilbert was no mere Demi-god—he was a Saint a rank five great expert with the protection to match. He could say what others whispered only in private.
Still… something gnawed at Astra.
That's it? Just 'interesting'? No proclamations? No theories?House Dusk was ancient. They had probably weathered stranger storms. Yet the way shadows writhed last night… something had changed. And the Churches had mobilized Saints.
Astra paled slightly.
They didn't say which churches.
He scrolled.
The next clip was much less mystical—and far more dramatic.
A knight-reporter appeared on screen—short, gorgeous, dark-featured, her smile dangerous enough to ruin kingdoms.(Not that Astra noticed. At all. Obviously.)
House Palm and House Scorpion at Odds Once Again—A Duel to Settle the Score?
"The age-old feud between the prodigies of House Palm and House Scorpion continues to escalate," she reported, eyes bright with mischief. "Rumors of a formal duel have surfaced—if sanctioned, it will be their tenth public duel in three years. A possible clash of Demi-gods may be witnessed."
She shifted topics smoothly.
"Meanwhile, House Hunt's young heir, Aster Hunt—Champion of the Gladriel Life Trials—remains undefeated, having dismantled her latest challenger in under a minute. Experts predict she will dominate this year's Springtime Advent Tournament as she clashes with Prince Lucien Solaris of Dawn in the projected finals."
Astra's lips curled faintly.
Aster Hunt…The heir of House Hunt, Royal Stewards of Alfheim, masters of Artemis—the very house that eradicated his ancestors.Strong, undoubtedly. Beautiful, undeniably.He hadn't cared before, but the reminder stirred something cold in his chest.
He shook his head and continued scrolling.
Another knight-reporter appeared—male, short, almost too pretty for his armor.
The Four Divisions of the Springtime Advent Tournament Announced!
"As tradition dictates, the Springtime Advent Tournament will be divided into four classifications, allowing warriors of all calibers to compete."
He lifted four glowing sigils as he spoke. Giving information to those who may watch.
A copper dagger sigil appeared as it turned into a rusty green.
Pawn Divison – Rank OneYoung lords, apprentices, early talents. Fast paced amateurish duels. High unpredictability. Volatile Bets.
A silver, sigil of a long sword and shield appeared as it flipped.
Squire Divison – Rank Two Squires. Skilled combatants with refined techniques. Mid tier betting.
A golden Sigil appeared of two swords clashing.
Battle Division – Rank Three Knights and seasoned mages, extreme battles between experts. All Paths to Power welcome. Must watch, volatile betting.
The screen faded to black as it showed in a shinty luster the final division.
Demi-god divison. Rank Four.Ceremonial Bouts, Show of force. Low stakes betting.
"The tournament will last nine days and nine nights," the reporter continued, "drawing competitors from across the Realms."
Astra leaned back, exhaling slowly.
This wasn't just a festival.This was a proving ground where legends rose and reputations died in public fire.
He reached the final panel—an open call for participants.
All Paths to Power welcome.
His gut twisted.
That meant Jesters.That meant Blasphemers.That meant the unhinged, the cursed, the sanctified, the damned—fighting under polite banners.
Thankfully, Astra was only Rank One.
He closed the Regal Coin's interface with a scoff.
Not interested. Not yet.He wasn't ready for that kind of attention.
And he had far too many secrets still bleeding beneath his skin.
With a stretch, he rose from his seat, gulping down the beverage before stepping out of the noble lounge. The innkeeper, a stocky beastkin with long wolf-like ears, nodded as Astra passed.
"Thanks for your hospitality," Astra said smoothly, adjusting the Nightshroud's travel mode around his shoulders.
The innkeeper gave a lazy nod. "Come back anytime, Esteemed Lord."
Astra stepped onto the streets just as night fell upon Duskfall once again. The city was reborn in its true form—a nocturnal kingdom of light and shadow.
The towering spires gleamed under the flickering lanterns, and above, the Twilight Tower activated once more, casting its eerie, otherworldly glow across the skyline.
Boom!
Fireworks erupted overhead, showering the night with golden sparks. Heavy metallic transport air ships flooded the twilight skies as they transported people from all across the realm, Their heavier more military counterparts flying high in the sky as they watch the festival grounds with utmost vigilance. Music surged back to life, a cacophony of instruments and voices, as the festival roared back into motion. Dancers twirled in the streets, masked revelers laughed over glasses of enchanted wine, and merchants called out their wares.
Astra exhaled, stepping forward into the lively chaos of Duskfall's Festival.
It was time to get moving.
The streets of Duskfall's Grand Bazaar were alive with the renewed energy of the festival.
The second night had begun, and the sky above shimmered with the glow of lanterns and fireworks, casting a dreamlike hue over the city.
This time, Astra did not walk as a street rat, as a runaway, or as a man with no name. No, tonight, he strode through the market as an arrogant young noble of House Shadow—his steps confident, his Nightshroud now refined into a traveling noble's ensemble, and his Regal Coin hanging visibly at his hip, gleaming under the lantern light.
The moment he stepped into the tailor's boutique, he could feel the shift in atmosphere. The attendants, once dismissive of the rabble that wandered in from the lower districts, immediately straightened up, their trained eyes recognizing the cut of his armor and the unmistakable presence of wealth.
Astra didn't even need to say anything. Within seconds, a tailor was already guiding him toward a section reserved for high-ranking nobles, where dark silks, embroidered coats, and exquisitely crafted attire awaited.
As he stood before the grand mirror, being measured for his new wardrobe, Astra couldn't help but notice the lingering gazes.
Several young noblewomen all rank one, were seated on a nearby cushioned bench, they whispered amongst themselves, all the while stealing glances at him.
He smirked.
Without turning to face them, he felt a little nervous and bored, the shadows around him mirrored his mood, making the light dim a little around them as shadows danced playfully. Their hushed giggles immediately stopped as they tensed, glancing around nervously.
Astra, still facing the mirror, tilted his head slightly.
"Ladies," he said smoothly, his voice dripping with amusement. "My eyes are up here not down there" He joked.
One of the young women squeaked in surprise, her face turning red. The others stifled laughter, trying and failing to act as if they hadn't been staring.
Another one, a bolder noblewoman with Sapphire eyes and long black hair, crossed her arms and smirked. "And what if I didn't care?"
Astra finally turned to them, a lazy smirk playing on his lips. His eyes met hers and he simply laughed as he rolled them.
The tailor nearly stabbed him with a pin, muttering under his breath about nobles with too much confidence.
The girls laughed, a mix of amusement and exasperation at how silly this was, while Astra simply returned his attention to his fitting, thoroughly enjoying himself.
After all, if he was to walk the streets of Duskfall as a true noble of House Shadow, he had to play the part.
.....
Astra stepped out onto the cobblestone streets of the Grand Bazaar, now clad in his new noble attire—an obsidian-black long coat adorned with subtle gray embroidery, the pattern resembling intertwining celestial constellations. The fabric was smooth yet resilient, crafted from enchanted silk that shimmered faintly under the festival lights. The high collar added a regal air, while the golden embroidery along the cuffs and buttons exuded extravagance without being gaudy. Beneath the coat, a form-fitting dark vest hugged his frame, fastened with delicate gold chains connecting its buttons, while black trousers and sleek leather boots completed the ensemble.
With this, Astra no longer looked like a common noble. He looked like someone who belonged among the greater houses—dangerous, untouchable, and wealthy.
But he wasn't done shopping just yet.
Inside the boutique, Astra selected a variety of training clothes—lightweight, form-fitting tunics in shades of gray and black, reinforced with subtle mana-woven threading for durability. He also picked up several utility accessories—leather gloves lined with minor enchantments for grip, a black-and-gold sash, he stored his items in the mana coins internal storage.
The storage could house a plethora of materials and items, there was a limit however to Standards, as the more powerful standards held some sort of unique residual signature that made it difficult to store or something, Astra always thought that it was just some divine plot for banks to make money but he had no idea. The 1000 gold standards he had were wire transferable from gods knows what bank, House Night collapsed so it definitely was not theirs but it could be either shadow or steel as those two houses were heavily invested in banking.
Astra pursed his lips.
By the time he was done, his total spending amounted to thirty gold standards—a hefty sum, but with his newfound wealth, it barely made a dent.
As he turned to leave, however, a familiar voice stopped him.
"Leaving so soon?"
Astra turned, already expecting to see her—the bold noblewoman from earlier.
Now that she was up close, he could appreciate just how stunning she truly was. She wore a flowing black and gold dress, tailored to perfection, with a deep-cut neckline that left little to the imagination.
A delicate gray capelet draped over her shoulders, fastened by a golden brooch shaped like a sun, marking her as a noble of House Dune—one of the Royal Stewards of Sahara. She gave off the subtle aura of a rank two....but it felt off? Astra felt that her shadow was deeper than it should be and his intuition for some reason told him...this woman was powerful...very powerful...
Her Saphire-blue eyes gleamed with mischief as she took a slow step toward him. "You never did give me your name."
Astra tilted his head slightly, his smirk returning. "And you never gave me yours."
She chuckled. "Fair. Princess Seraphine of House Dune. A pleasure." She extended her hand gracefully.
Astra took it, brushing his lips against the back of her knuckles in a mock display of chivalry. as he spoke "Astra of Shadow. At your service." but in his mind, he was panicking"Prin...Princess. of Dune?! Just my luck! I can't get caught!, Wait she definitely knows where Shadow nobles might be!."
She arched a brow. "Astra of House Shadow huh..?"
He only smiled in response
Seraphine leaned in slightly, her voice lowering to a sultry whisper. "You're interesting, Astra. A noble of House Shadow, yet I've never seen you before."
He chuckled. "I prefer to keep a low profile."
"Shame, but how fitting for your lineage" she said, eyes flickering with intrigue. "With a face like yours, you'd have quite the following."
Astra couldn't tell if she was genuinely interested in him or just playing the noble's game of flirtation and intrigue. Either way, he played along. "Flattery will get you everywhere, my Princess."
Seraphine smirked. "Perhaps. So tell me, what brings you to the Grand Bazaar? Shopping for a new look, or are you scouting for connections?"
Astra's eyes gleamed. Smart. She sees right through me.
He leaned slightly closer, his voice low and smooth. "Does it have to be just one?"
Seraphine laughed softly, seemingly pleased with his answer. "I like you, Astra. Perhaps we should exchange information?"
With a flick of her wrist, she activated her Regal Coin, allowing Astra to connect his own with hers—an exchange of direct communication access, something only nobles or high-ranking figures could do.
He accepted it smoothly, all the while keeping his true intentions hidden. This was his way into higher social circles, a potential stepping stone toward House Shadow's true elites.
"I literally just got the contact of a Princess...what the actual.."
Just as Astra was about to make another witty remark, his entire body tensed.
It was faint—almost imperceptible—but now that he had stopped focusing entirely on Seraphine, he could feel them.
The hidden gazes.
Around the boutique, lurking in the shadows, positioned strategically across the room—bodyguards.
Powerful ones.
He hadn't noticed them before, but now he could sense at least five. All of them stronger than him. All of them watching.
So this is the protection of a Royal Steward…
Astra kept his expression neutral, though inside, his mind was racing. He had been careless. Too focused on the interaction, too entertained by the flirtation. If he had made even the slightest wrong move, these invisible sentinels would have cut him down or captured him in an instant.
Seraphine must have noticed his shift in focus, because she smirked knowingly. "Oh? you noticed them, didn't you?, Impressive Astra, for a rank one to notice my guards... you really are interesting"
Astra forced a lazy smile, masking his tension. "Took you this long to bring them up?"
She laughed. "Eh most people don't even notice them I'm impressed you even did. Don't worry—they won't bite." Her voice dropped slightly. "Unless, of course, you give them a reason to."
Astra met her gaze, his smirk never faltering. "I'll be sure to behave, then."
Seraphine chuckled. "Good boy."
Astra only smiled as he turned away, playing it cool, but deep inside, he made a note....Seraphine of House Dune..was terrifyingly pretty and definitely not to be underestimated.
As Astra walked out of the boutique, keeping his usual calm and composed expression, his thoughts were anything but.
"Gods, why are all these noble women so damn pretty… and so damn crazy?"
He sighed internally, glancing at his Regal Coin where Seraphine's contact information now sat. She was dangerous—not in the way a warrior was, but in the way a viper slowly coiled around its prey before striking.
"'Good boy?'" His eye twitched slightly as he replayed the moment. "Gods, she's gonna eat me alive."
The worst part? He wasn't entirely sure if he minded.
Back at the inn, Astra ordered a hearty lunch—a roasted mana beast steak, spiced potatoes, fresh bread, and, of course, a tankard of alcoholic lemonade. The food was rich and filling, a far cry from the scraps he used to scavenge. He ate with quiet satisfaction, savoring every bite as he watched the festival's lights flicker outside the window.
"Alright," he thought, finishing his drink with a sharp exhale. "Time to get to work."