The chamber's Aura was suffocating.
The moment Noctus stepped inside, his body shuddered under the weight of it. The air itself pressed against his chest like an invisible hand, squeezing the breath from his lungs. His knees buckled, his vision swam, and for a moment he thought he would collapse outright. It took every shred of his will not to crumple then and there.
The chamber wasn't meant for the weak. The Ignisar family had forged this sanctum for training warriors of fire, a crucible where even prodigies struggled to endure. The natural Aura here wasn't still or balanced—it was restless, alive, pressing into every pore and fiber of the body. To an unprepared cultivator, it was poison disguised as nourishment.
Noctus staggered, then sank down cross-legged on the stone floor, his body drenched in sweat. He closed his eyes and forced himself to focus.
Channel the Aura. Suppress it.
The method was buried deep in the boy's memories—techniques absorbed from long hours in the library, read but never applied. Back then, the old Noctus had been too afraid to try, too weak to survive this place. But now, things were different. His transmigrated soul burned with a strength beyond this fragile body, giving his cores an anchor that the old Noctus had never possessed.
He drew on his Fire Core, let its warmth spread through his veins, and guided it along the channels he remembered. His aura resisted the crushing flood, forming a fragile shield around his body. It wasn't perfect—not even close—but it was enough. The suffocating weight eased, and for the first time since stepping inside, he could breathe properly.
Noctus let out a shaky laugh. "Still alive… that's something."
But endurance wasn't enough. He hadn't come here just to survive. He needed to grow.
He rose unsteadily to his feet and made his way toward the first section of the chamber—the library.
The shelves stretched endlessly, carved of dark wood and brimming with tomes, scrolls, and manuals. The smell of old parchment mixed with the faint metallic tang of Aura, as if every page held the echo of battles past. The books were more than knowledge; they were legacies. Each skill, each technique, had once been born in the imagination of a master who had shaped Aura into something new. To hold one of these tomes was to borrow the insight of generations.
Noctus let his fingers drift across the spines of the books, his eyes scanning the tiers marked along their edges. Tier 1, Tier 2, Tier 3… the Ignisar family had them all, though he knew his current limit lay only with the first two. Anything higher would destroy him if he tried to force it.
He searched for hours, ignoring the temptation of flashy names and grand descriptions. Firestorm. Crimson Fang. Devouring Blaze. They promised destruction and spectacle, but none of them suited him. Not yet. He wasn't looking for power—he was looking for survival.
Finally, his gaze landed on a book bound in plain leather, its title etched simply in black ink: Hunter's Judgement.
He pulled it from the shelf and opened it. The pages described a technique unlike the destructive spells surrounding it. Hunter's Judgement sharpened the user's perception, heightening reflexes and awareness while dulling emotional fluctuation. It wasn't about killing more efficiently—it was about thinking clearly in the moment of life and death.
Noctus stared at the words, his chest tight.
In his past life, he had never harmed anyone. He had only ever known what it felt like to be on the receiving end, powerless and broken. The thought of killing terrified him still—it made his stomach twist and his palms sweat. But he also knew the truth of this world: the weak were slaughtered like animals. If the day came where he had to choose between his life and another's, hesitation would mean death.
This skill wouldn't make him a killer. It would make him survive.
He sat cross-legged on the floor, pressed his hand against his Fire Core, and began to channel Aura according to the book's instructions.
The change was immediate.
His senses sharpened as though a veil had been torn away. He felt his own heartbeat, steady and thunderous in his ears. He traced the flow of blood through his veins, the faint twitch of muscle fibers beneath his skin. He could sense the subtle currents of Aura drifting between the shelves, like the whisper of storms waiting to be unleashed from the higher-tier tomes.
At the same time, something inside him grew quiet. The fear, the trembling uncertainty—it dulled, replaced by a cold clarity. His emotions didn't vanish, but they became distant, manageable. He wasn't a trembling boy anymore. He was a hunter.
A translucent panel flickered before his eyes.
[Neutral Skill Acquired]
Hunter's Judgement – Tier 2
Effect: Increases perception, awareness, and reflexes by 300%. Dulls emotional fluctuation.
Duration: 20 minutesCooldown: 5 hours
Neutral Skills… skills usable by any element.
Noctus allowed himself a small smile. This one skill alone could be the difference between life and death. He closed the book carefully, placing it back on the shelf, then turned toward the second section of the chamber—the weapon racks.
Rows upon rows of weapons glimmered under the chamber's dim light. Katanas with blades sharp enough to whisper, tachi that radiated the coiled intent of serpents, odachi exuding the weight of beasts, rapiers that gleamed with elegance. Each weapon carried a presence, as though waiting for the hand that would awaken it.
But among them, one stood apart.
A jian. Its sheath was pure black, lined with veins of faint green that pulsed faintly like living roots. The handle was carved from obsidian, threaded with the same green markings that traced from the base to the hilt. It didn't gleam or beckon with grandeur. It was silent, cold, patient.
Noctus felt it before he touched it—a magnetic pull, as though the sword itself was watching him. He reached for it, and when his hand closed around the hilt, it was as though the weapon had been waiting for him all along.
Perfect.
He unsheathed the blade. The metal was black as midnight, etched with green runic patterns that shimmered faintly under the chamber's Aura.
"Identify."
The system screen flickered.
[Item Information]
Name: ???
Rank: ???
Enchantments: Unbreakable, ???, ???, ???, ???
Requirements not fulfilled.
Noctus stared at the screen in disbelief.
"…What's the point of this system if it can't even tell me the sword's name?" he muttered. "Requirements? For knowing its name? Seriously?"
He looked around the racks, half-expecting the weapon to vanish or someone to jump out and snatch it away. But the sword remained in his hand, silent and steady.
"Well… lucky me, I guess. If no one else knows what this thing is worth, I won't complain."
He tightened his grip and swung it experimentally. His movements were clumsy, little more than the crude foot-soldier techniques buried in the body's memories. Still, the weapon flowed easily, as if forgiving his awkwardness, guiding him rather than resisting. It was… right.
He practiced until his arms ached and sweat dripped from his brow, each swing carving a promise into the silent air. He wasn't strong yet. But he would be.
Far away, in the halls of the Marivelle estate, another story was unfolding.
Eramis, the spy, knelt before Lady Sofia Marivelle, his head bowed as he delivered his report. "My lady. The boy has entered the Ignisar chamber. He remains within, though nothing unusual has occurred."
Sofia listened in silence, her silver hair gleaming under the lantern light, her eyes cold as frozen lakes. She waved her hand dismissively. "Go."
The servant left.
Alone, Sofia rose from her seat and drifted toward the balcony. Moonlight spilled over her, highlighting the beauty that so many envied—and the cruelty hidden beneath it.
Her thoughts slipped back to the banquet years ago.
The wine had been sweet, the laughter louder than usual, nobles circling like vultures around scraps of gossip. And then—him. Noctus Ignisar, drunk and staggering, had dared to approach her. His words slurred, his eyes clouded with arrogance. She had turned away, uninterested, but he hadn't stopped. He had thrown his drink at her, staining her dress, his voice carrying over the crowd as he spat his insult.
"Ugly. Your family hides behind politics, not power."
The hall had frozen. If not for the elders' intervention, the insult might have drawn blood.
She had never forgotten.
Her lips curved in a smile that held no warmth. "Noctus Ignisar… you humiliated me once. You dared to stain my name in front of the nobles."
Her voice dropped, a whisper carried on the night breeze.
"I will see you broken. I will see you erased. That is my promise."
Far away, in the depths of the Ignisar chamber, Noctus gripped the black jian tighter, unaware of the storm that was already moving against him.