Chapter 3: Skystep and the Northern Assignment
Lawrence ignored the Catalinna problem for the moment and sat on his bed, turning plans over in his head. He could not exactly tell his father about the cave by the road between the Swordwin Empire and the Kingdom of Rebia that supposedly housed a spear art perfect for him. Not yet.
The spear arts he already trained were furious, raw and brutal , useful, but not the kind of growth he needed. They were still at the adept stage; movement arts and body arts were what would change everything.
What he wanted most was the Light Sky Step. Mastery of that would let him form discs of light in the air and step across them, effectively running through the sky. Paragons could do it; pure light mages lacked the speed, warriors lacked affinity. Light paragons were rare, and apart from an elderly guardian in the novel, none had the same light affinity as Lawrence. To master Light Sky Step would make him unique and finally worthy of the title of prodigy.
For body arts he wanted Double Body Art: a technique that created a clone with half his power and transferred affinity to that double , useful for controlling golems or supplementing a formation. It had been invented by the six-star Sage of Water, who used it to let his water golems cast massive spells. The ability was banned, but the black market had a price. It was a long shot, but Lawrence could buy the manual if he had the coin and the right connections.
A knock on the door interrupted his scheming. A maid entered, bowed, and announced, "Young master, Miss Catalinna waits for you in the garden."
He clicked his tongue, afternoon had slipped away while he planned. With heavy steps, he walked to the garden and found Catalinna standing among the flowers, pale as a statue, attendance regal and expression hard as flint.
"It seems I have to burn your face off," she said without looking at him, voice even.
Lawrence took a seat at a small marble table laid with tea and cakes, and sipped calmly. He watched the knight patrolling the hedges with one lazy eye. "Oh? What transgression did I commit to earn such contempt from a beautiful lady?" he asked.
Catalinna approached and folded into the available chair. "That pendant of yours belongs to the world's hero. Return it to him, or I will burn you to ashes," she said, stare cutting.
Hearing her words, Lawrence couldn't help but smiled, half amusement, half challenge. "I will give it to him when the time comes. Who knows if your so-called hero will even show. Could be a braggart, a womanizer, or worse , a man who throws himself into trouble and dies early. We can't assume virtue where there might be vanity."
Heat pooled behind her eyes as soon as he said those words making the air oppressive with the scent of burning mana. "You are nothing but a stepping stone for him," she spat.
"Then let him try." A grin tugged at Lawrence's mouth. He found her bluntness entertaining; it was easier to mock than to admit that her words unsettled him. She, in return, smiled coldly. "You will regret this," she warned, satisfied.
Why is she so attached to the main character? Lawrence wondered, watching the way her fingers flexed at the pendant. Is she a fan? A fellow transmigrator? The confirmation that Catalinna might not be an ordinary noble set his teeth on edge. If she's here for artifacts, trouble's coming as that also means she knows the plot and might get all benefits he was aiming for.
"I have no time to waste on babbling fools," he said abruptly, standing and sweeping the tea aside with theatrical disdain. Catalinna sprang to grab him in anger, but he vanished with a practiced step and reappeared beyond reach.
"Dammit! Just you wait," she snarled after him, eyes blazing.
He was almost to his room when a large, warm hand settled on his shoulder. Gentle pressure, but immovable. He turned to find his father watching him with unreadable look.
"Son," Leonard said softly, "why speak to your soon-to-be bride like that?"
"She disrespected me," Lawrence said, feigning indignation. "I have no time for such women."
Leonard sighed. "She would be a boon for our family. Her family has influence, equal to ours, and she's a true genius as a paragon."
Lawrence studied his father before nodding. Leonard did not force things lightly; marriages were promises made to the dead and binding to the living, agreements between houses. Still, Lawrence's pride bristled. He had already pledged himself to the Velcos family by arrangement; he had not expected it to mean partnering with someone who might torch him for a pendant.
Leonard softened. "Tell me what you want. If there is anything you desire, I will obtain it for you."
He felt this might help calm his son's heart.
For a moment Lawrence's plan felt within reach. He named the two arts: Light Sky Step and Double Body Art. "Once I learn them, I'll spar with you to prove they weren't a waste," he added, trying to sound casual.
His father's face showed pride and a touch of sorrow. "It should not be difficult," Leonard said. "But know the Light Sky Step grants mobility, not speed per se , unlike Rushing Dragon Movement. And clones are never as reliable as golems. Why do you covet them?"
"Because I know what I need," Lawrence said flatly. He did not elaborate on the theft plan or the cave; that would have invited questions. Leonard nodded and, after a moment, released him. Lawrence left for his room, muttering under his breath, grateful for the distance his father's presence provided. Warriors do hear you from far off. Makes a man wonder about the noise men make when they train.
Two months remained before the academy resumed. He had to endure another year among privileged, haughty students, playing the role he had been cast in: the noble who looked down on commoners. According to the book, Lawrence would meet Cain at the academy and insult him for being a peasant, prompting Cain's wrath. With his sharp tongue, Lawrence had little doubt he would provoke him. And Catalinna , if she discovered he intended to pursue the Luminosity of the Multitude spear art, she would scheme to take it, possibly by any means necessary.
For days he did little but sit in his rooms and plot. He practiced his light beam, pushing it toward perfection, though training felt pointless when the next move was theft, acquisition, or negotiation. Afternoons blurred into afternoons. Then a maid came to fetch him: his father requested his presence.
He entered the study. Leonard sat behind a heavy desk, eyes narrowed over a parchment. Books lined the walls in close rows, and a small couch waited where visitors might rest. Lawrence took his seat, waiting as his father finished reading.
"Your fiancée wishes you to travel north with her for training this week," Leonard said, voice flat.
Hearing those words, Lawrence truly wish to curse out loudly. The north was the most dangerous part of the kingdom: jagged passes, bandits, and nightly monster raids. A cold hand tightened at Lawrence's spine.
"I refuse," he said. "I have no time to waste."
Leonard's face hardened upon hearing his words. "I will not obtain the arts you asked for unless you accept."
Lawrence's refusal was immediate. "I will not go. I will not die in the north."
Fuck, you think you can control me with those arts?
"Nonsense," Leonard said. "No harm will befall you. I will assign an escort: two three-star warriors and a three-star mage."
"I do not like depending on others," Lawrence said, bowing slightly before turning to leave. He could feel his father's patience fraying. Leonard's voice stopped him.
"Are you disobeying me?" there was anger now, sharp as steel.
Lawrence paused. This wasn't merely a request; it was a duty wrapped in expectation. If only I had the power to say no, he thought. If only I could stop living under other people's plans and be free. The thought stuck like iron.
He swallowed and spun words into sarcasm, "Fine, father. This helpless son will not disobey the great sword saint." His tone was flippant, but the anger laced through it was real. It was the sound of being forced to comply.
As he left the study, his head buzzed with possibilities and dangers. Catalinna's obsession over the pendant, the cave and its spear art, the double body magic for a clone army, the academy , it all formed a web tightening around him. Two months were not long. He had to be cunning, and he had to move before others decided for him after all the moment he enters the Academy and provoke the MC, he was bond to die. Meaning he has not more than a year left.
He muttered to himself once more as he shut his chamber door, a private litany: If only I had the power to disobey, to not live in fear, and to be free. Then none of this would happen.