The great hall of the Ignisar estate blazed with firelight, its high arches etched with ancient runes that pulsed faintly with warmth. Nobles and retainers filled the rows, their faces eager, mocking, expectant. They had not come for a celebration but for a spectacle—the downfall of Duke Ardyn Ignisar's disappointing son.
On the dais, Duke Ardyn stood tall and unyielding, his crimson robes trailing like rivers of flame. His aura, even suppressed, carried the authority of a man at the Mid Emperor Realm, the master of fire whose will could turn battlefields into seas of ash.
Before him, Noctus Ignisar walked forward, his steps slow, his body taut with fear. He could feel every gaze stabbing into his back, every whisper feeding the weight of shame that had followed him since birth. His father's summons was not mercy—it was judgment.
Ardyn's voice thundered across the hall."Noctus Ignisar. Today, you stand here for your final privilege as the son of my blood. You will hear my judgment, and all who witness shall know the truth—that weakness cannot be tolerated within the Ignisar line."
A ripple of laughter spread among the nobles. Their eyes glinted with malice, savoring the boy's public humiliation.
Noctus lowered his head, but inside his chest, something pushed against the suffocating despair. He had bowed and bent his whole life—lived for others, endured for others, died for others. But in this life… he could not. He would not.
He clenched his fists. "If this is my last privilege, then grant me one request. Allow me to train within the secret chamber of our house—for ten months, until my coming of age. If I fail to prove myself, I will leave and never again call myself Ignisar."
The hall erupted in mockery. "The secret chamber? He dares?" "He'll die before he lasts a day!" "What foolishness!"
Duke Ardyn's lips curved into a cruel smirk."You want the chamber? Then prove you have the spine to stand as an Ignisar. Survive one minute under my aura. Only then will you be granted this request."
The nobles roared in laughter. One minute beneath the aura of a Mid Emperor Realm Duke was a death sentence, even for Knights.
Noctus froze. Terror clawed at his chest, and his throat tightened. He wanted to refuse, to run, but his body wouldn't move. He had no choice. He had already surrendered everything in his past life—his dreams, his laughter, his relations. Not again. Not this time.
"…I accept," he whispered.
Ardyn's eyes narrowed, and then the world exploded.
The Duke released his aura. A sea of flames surged, invisible yet unbearable, crashing down like the wrath of a volcano. The stone floor cracked, banners curled and smoked, and nobles gasped as the suffocating heat clawed at their lungs.
Noctus was at the center of it all.
His body screamed in agony. His skin blistered, his throat tore with ragged cries, and blood seeped from his nose and ears. The weight was suffocating, pressing on his bones, crushing his soul.
"Aahhhh!" His scream tore through the hall.
The nobles laughed louder. "Pathetic!" "He won't last a second longer!" "Fall, bastard child!"
But he did not fall.
Somewhere deep within, in the shattered depths of his soul, his Time Core pulsed. A faint resonance stirred, not a skill, not a technique, but a whisper—an echo of something ancient. The crushing weight of the aura slowed, its bite dulled by the faintest shimmer of temporal distortion. It wasn't enough to save him. But it was enough to give him one more breath. One more second. One more chance.
Noctus clung to it desperately. His vision blurred, his consciousness flickered, yet his heart raged.
I gave everything once. My life. My time. My laughter. My relations. I compromised until nothing of me was left. But no more. This time, I will not yield. Even if it kills me, I will not surrender.
The seconds dragged like eternities.
Thirty seconds. His knees buckled, but he forced them straight.Forty-five seconds. His body smoked, his clothes burned, his voice cracked into hoarse gasps.Fifty-five seconds. The nobles' laughter quieted, replaced with uneasy murmurs.
And then—silence.
At the sixtieth second, Noctus raised his head, his eyes bloodshot, his face pale and broken. His lips trembled, but his voice carried across the hall.
"I… won."
Then he collapsed, his body falling limp against the scorched stone.
The hall was frozen in disbelief. Nobles stared with wide eyes, servants trembled, and even Ardyn himself paused, the faintest flicker of surprise crossing his cold gaze.
Noctus had survived.
Against all reason, against all expectation, the boy everyone had scorned had endured a full minute under the weight of a Mid Emperor Realm Duke's aura.
And in his broken defiance, he had won his chance.
The hall remained frozen after Noctus collapsed. The silence was heavy, punctuated only by the sound of his ragged, shallow breathing.
Servants rushed forward, but Ardyn lifted a single hand, and they halted mid-step. His gaze lingered on his son's scorched figure, unreadable, though for a fleeting instant something flickered in his eyes. It was gone as soon as it appeared.
"Take him away," Ardyn commanded coldly. "He has earned what he sought. Prepare the chamber. Ten months… if he lives that long."
Two guards lifted Noctus's unconscious body with care, though their expressions betrayed disbelief. The crowd dispersed in murmurs—some shaken, some mocking still, others unsettled by what they had just witnessed.
Yet among the servants, one pair of eyes burned not with awe, but with calculation.
A thin man in plain livery, his posture always slightly bent, slipped away from the commotion. His name within the Ignisar estate was Eramis, a quiet, forgettable face among dozens of attendants. But outside these walls, he was something else entirely—a shadow tethered to House Marivelle.
He walked swiftly through the servant's passage, his heart thundering, though not with fear. What he had witnessed was a revelation. The boy lived. The boy endured. And that meant danger.
When night fell, Eramis left the estate. Disguised as any other tradesman, he carried his message in silence, traveling by hidden paths until he reached the estate of House Marivelle.
The Marivelle mansion glittered beneath the moonlight, its towers shaped like spears of ice, cold and majestic. Within its inner chamber, where silks and shadows wove together, awaited the one who had demanded every whisper from the Ignisar household.
Lady Sofia Marivelle, eldest daughter of Duke Caelum Marivelle, sat upon a chaise of pale velvet, her beauty striking and cruel in equal measure. Her hair, silver as moonlight, framed a face that might have been sculpted by gods themselves—sharp, flawless, untouchable. Her eyes, the color of a frozen lake, regarded Eramis with a cold amusement as he knelt before her.
"Well?" she asked, her voice smooth as silk, yet cutting as glass.
"My lady," Eramis whispered, bowing his head low, "the trial was held. As expected, Duke Ardyn mocked his son, challenged him to endure a minute beneath his aura. But…" His voice trembled despite himself. "The boy survived."
Sofia's smile was faint, but it carried venom. "Survived?"
"Yes," Eramis said quickly. "He was broken, burned, on the edge of death, but he did not fall. He endured. And now the Duke has granted him entry into the Ignisar secret chamber for ten months."
Silence followed. The weight of it pressed heavily on Eramis's chest. He dared not look up until Sofia finally spoke, her words tinged with mocking disbelief.
"How curious. Even the mighty Duke Ardyn allows his son to live. If he truly wished him dead, he would have crushed him outright… or slain you long ago for your failures."
Eramis flinched. "My lady—"
"Spare me your excuses," Sofia interrupted, her eyes narrowing. "This proves only one thing: Ardyn himself has little faith in his child. Otherwise, would he have let you live? No. He would have burned you to ash the moment you betrayed his house. Instead, he tolerates your existence… because even he thinks his son will not matter."
Her voice dropped, cold and deliberate. "And he is wrong. The fact that boy stood for even a minute against an Emperor Realm aura means the blood of Ignisar has not failed entirely. He is dangerous. A weed that must be pulled before it grows thorns."
Eramis swallowed hard, bowing lower. "What are your orders, my lady?"
Sofia leaned back, her fingers drumming lightly on the arm of her chair. Her smile returned, but this time it was sharp, predatory.
"Watch him. Report every step he takes before entering that chamber, keep an eye on his personal servents.The moment he falters, the moment he reveals weakness… we will strike. And if Ardyn dares to shield him, then we will remind the Duke that not even fire can melt the cold of the Marivelles."
Her laughter, soft and chilling, lingered in the chamber as Eramis bowed lower, his body trembling though not from the cold.
Far away, in the Ignisar estate, Noctus lay unconscious, his soul battered, his body broken—but within him, the faint glow of his Fire Core and the unstable hum of his Time Core pulsed in defiance.
The world thought him beaten. The nobles thought him doomed. Sofia thought him a weed to be plucked.
But Noctus would rise again.
And when he did, the kingdoms themselves would tremble.