Dawn broke like a blade over the Arkanveil estate—sharp, golden, inevitable.
Lucien stood at the grand gate, his silhouette cutting through the morning mist like a dark prophecy.
His travel cloak fluttered in the morning wind, midnight fabric embroidered with silver runes that pulsed with quiet power. His sword hung sheathed at his side, the hilt worn from countless hours of training. His crimson eyes stared ahead—unwavering, calculating, seeing beyond the present moment.
Beyond those gates lay the unknown. Beyond those gates stood the Crimson Portal.
And behind him...
Tiny fists pounded against his leg with surprising force.
"You can't go!"
A high-pitched voice full of desperation echoed through the quiet courtyard, shattering the solemn mood like glass.
"I haven't finished your drawing! Goldy was almost on the dragon! You promised you'd wait!"
Lucien turned with a sigh, a faint smile playing on his lips. The cold mask he wore for the world softened just enough to reveal the man beneath.
His youngest sister stood there—cheeks puffed, eyes teary, hair an untamed mess of copper curls that caught the morning light like fire.
She clung to his leg like a determined squirrel, her small fingers digging into the expensive fabric with surprising strength.
"Take me with you! I'll hide in your bag if I have to!"
She sniffled. She stomped. She hugged him tight, face buried in his cloak, leaving tearstains that would be impossible to remove.
Lucien felt a pang in his chest—a feeling he hadn't experienced in either of his lives.
He knelt down and placed a hand on her head, gently ruffling her hair. His voice, usually sharp as steel, softened to silk.
"Next time, you can draw me fighting two dragons. Deal?"
She paused.
Sniffed again.
Then beamed like the morning sun, tears forgotten in an instant.
"Okay! But they have to be huge! With fire that changes colors! And wings that block out the sun!"
Lucien laughed softly. "The biggest dragons in all the realm. I promise."
Just behind her stood Elric—silent, composed, a shadow with purpose.
His posture was straight, but his aura felt heavy, like the air just before a storm. The silver pin on his collar marked him as both servant and warrior, a complexity outsiders would never understand.
The butler. The brother. The blade that chose to walk in Lucien's shadow.
They didn't speak much. They never needed to. Words were luxuries for those who couldn't read the silence between souls.
Lucien rose. Their eyes met.
"Train well," Lucien said. "My uncle won't go easy on you."
"I don't want him to," Elric replied, his voice steady despite the emotion swimming in his eyes. "I'll return sharper than steel. Ready to stand at your side when you conquer what lies beyond the portal."
They clasped wrists—firm and brief. Knight to knight. Brother to brother. A promise made without words but stronger than any oath.
He gave one last glance at the girl now spinning in circles with joy, her tears forgotten, already planning the epic battle scene she would draw for his return.
Then he turned his back to the estate—the golden cage where he had spent five years learning, training, preparing for this moment.
The massive gates creaked open, ancient mechanisms groaning like titans waking from slumber.
And Lucien Arkanveil walked away from safety, from comfort, from the known.
---
The carriage ride was long, quiet, meditative.
Fields blurred past in watercolor strokes of green and gold. Trees whispered of fate and futures yet unwritten.
Lucien sat still. Not brooding. Just thinking. His mind racing through contingencies, probabilities, dangers.
"The last time I left a home... it was Earth. An old body. A fulfilled life," he thought, memories of another existence flickering behind his eyes. "But this time... This time, I'm not alone."
He remembered Elric's trembling vow. His sister's defiant tears.
He remembered the promise to himself:
"Become more than the villain of a story. Rewrite the plotline. Rule the world beneath it."
In his previous life, he had read this story to its bitter end. Had seen how the character named "Lucien Arkanveil" met his fate—as a stepping stone for the protagonist, a minor villain crushed beneath the wheel of destiny.
Not this time.
This time, he had the advantage of knowledge. This time, the story would bend to his will.
The horizon glowed with unnatural light—crimson streaks that cut through reality itself.
In the distance, he saw it. The Crimson Portal. A tear in the fabric of the world, suspended between two ancient stone pillars covered in runes older than humanity itself.
Unlike the glossy portals in the capital, used by merchants and nobility, this one pulsed with raw power—unfiltered, dangerous, true.
The carriage stopped a hundred paces away. The driver refused to go closer.
"This is where we part ways, young master," the old man said, his eyes never leaving the portal. "May the old gods watch over you."
Lucien nodded, tossing the man an extra silver coin. "For your silence about my departure route."
The driver caught it with practiced ease. "What departure? I drove no one today."
Lucien smiled. The world ran on coins and secrets.
He stepped down from the carriage, boots crunching against stone and dried grass.
The portal hummed, a sound felt more in the bones than heard by ears. It pulsed like a living heart, distorting the air around it.
Lucien approached slowly, methodically. His hand rested on his sword hilt—not out of fear, but preparedness.
The portal flared brighter, its crimson glow now tinged with gold.
The portal pulsed, beckoning.
Now new journey waits.
...