The knock on the door wasn't loud, but it echoed through the house like a drumbeat of fate.
I was in my room, practicing magic manipulation with a floating pebble and a whole lot of concentration. The system window still hovered in the corner of my vision:
[Skill Gained: Magic Manipulation]
[Rank: Novice]
[Efficiency: 12%]
[Control: 9%]
[Stamina Cost: 1 per minute]
It wasn't much, but I was six years old with no tutor. I figured out mana flow by watching servants light candles and knights casting basic enhancement spells. Trial and error taught me more than a classroom ever could.
Then the knock happened.
"Young master," said a voice outside my room. It was Gerald, our old butler. The guy was a walking statue with a mustache sharp enough to slash monsters. "We have guests. Your father requests your presence."
Guests? Now?
I dismissed the system window and wiped the sweat off my brow. "Be right there!" I yelled, slipping into the hallway like I hadn't just been levitating rocks like a weirdo.
Downstairs, the entry hall was packed with nobles. I recognized the royal crest stitched onto a few coats and nearly stopped breathing. My father, Lord Portugal, stood near the center, flanked by two knights. Mom was next to him, smiling in that polite noblewoman way that meant she was sizing everyone up.
Then I saw her.
A girl, maybe a year younger than me, with silvery-blonde hair tied up with a blue ribbon. She wore a frilly dress and had the most intense blue eyes I'd ever seen. Beside her stood a man who looked like he chewed granite for breakfast and a woman who gave off total queen vibes.
"Ah, here he is," my father said. "My son, Kaledon."
All eyes turned to me.
No pressure.
I walked up, tried to look composed. "Greetings," I said. Not too stiff, not too casual.
The big man chuckled. "Well-mannered. I like him already."
"This is Duke Ferrand," my father said. "And his family. They're here on behalf of the Crown."
Oh great. Politics.
The duke knelt down slightly to meet my eyes. "So, this is the boy. The prodigy of the Portugal house."
I blinked. "Prodigy?"
He laughed again. "We've heard stories. Your father speaks very highly of you."
I could feel my mom's gaze drilling into the back of my head. I needed to play it cool.
"Well, I just try not to disappoint," I said with a grin.
The girl stepped forward. "I'm Althea," she said. "You're not what I expected."
"Good or bad?"
She tilted her head. "Not sure yet."
I liked her already.
Our parents talked politics while Althea and I wandered toward the garden. She was sharp, asking questions like, "Do you know any spells?" and "What's your favorite monster?"
"I like manticores," I said. "Big, dangerous, cool tails."
She smirked. "Typical boy answer."
"And yours?"
"Phoenixes," she said. "Beautiful and deadly. Like me."
I laughed. "Yeah, okay. I'll give you that."
Then she paused. "Hey… do you feel it?"
"Feel what?"
"The magic," she whispered.
I stopped. The air shimmered faintly. A pressure pulsed through the grass like a heartbeat.
Then the system chimed:
[Warning: Unknown Magical Signature Detected Nearby]
"What the—?"
Althea grabbed my hand. "We should tell our parents."
We turned to run—
—but the garden exploded.
A blast of wind knocked us both down, and something huge stepped from the shadows. Covered in black scales, breathing smoke.
A wyvern.
And it was headed right for us.
To be continued...