The training hall of the Omni King's castle had always been a place of legends, but for the past one month and fifteen days, it had turned into something else entirely—
a battlefield carved by a mother and her son.
The marble floor bore long grooves, claw-like scars left behind by relentless footwork. The pillars still trembled from repeated shockwaves. The air itself carried the residue of pressure—an invisible weight left from countless clashes between Aurelia Lionheart and Loryn Ironvale.
Or rather, simply Loryn, as he would soon need to call himself.
This morning, the hall was silent. Sunlight streamed through the enormous high windows, coating the vast room in a soft radiance. Dust motes floated like fallen stars. A serene calm hung in the air—the kind that only appears after storms of monstrous intensity.
Loryn stood in the center of the hall, chest rising and falling, sweat streaking down his face. His golden eyes glimmered like molten metal in the morning light, reflecting both exhaustion and unyielding will. His blue hair, messy and drenched, clung to his forehead.
Before him, Aurelia Lionheart—golden hair like a cascading sun, golden eyes as sharp as blades—watched him with an unreadable expression.
Not pride.
Not joy.
Shock.
"Five forms," she murmured, voice low, almost reverent. "Loryn… you've mastered five forms of the Lionheart Sword Style."
Loryn wiped his forehead with the back of his arm. "Mother… I wouldn't call it mastery. I only—"
"It is mastery," Aurelia cut him off sharply.
When she took a step closer, the air quivered. Even her gentlest movements carried the weight of a conqueror. They called her the Eternal Conqueror and the Blade Sovereign for a reason.
"You mastered the first form, Steel of Silence, in a day. And the Roarfang—your awakening—within two."
Her eyes narrowed, studying him as if seeing him for the first time.
"Your siblings took two years to reach the fifth form. Even I needed a year and a half before I touched the fifth. But you…"
Her voice lowered, tinged with awe.
"You did it in one month. Fifteen days. Loryn… what terrifying genius are you?"
The words echoed through the hall.
Loryn turned his eyes away, embarrassed. He wasn't someone who enjoyed praise. All he felt was a quiet pressure—an obligation to live up to the legacy of both his parents.
Aurelia stepped around him, examining his stance, his breathing, the subtle vibrations of his sword.
"You have the Lionheart blood," she said softly. "But even for a Lionheart… this speed is monstrous."
Loryn swallowed. "Mother, I only did what you told me. I trained, I pushed myself, and—"
"And you shattered every expectation."
Her voice softened, but only for a moment.
Then she let out a slow breath and straightened herself.
"But… training ends here."
Loryn blinked in surprise. "Ends? Why?"
Aurelia folded her arms, expression firm and absolute.
"You need to attend the entrance exams. They will begin in two days."
Loryn felt his breath catch. The past month felt like a blur—training, sparring, nearly fainting, rising again. He'd almost forgotten the passage of time.
"Two days… already," he murmured.
"Yes," Aurelia said. "And you must go."
Loryn frowned slightly. "I still have much to improve. If I had just a few more weeks—"
Aurelia raised a finger and pressed it gently against his forehead.
"You have grown enough. More than enough. If I train you further before you stabilize your foundation, you will distort your own sword path."
Loryn blinked. "Distort… my path?"
"Your sword is awakening too quickly. Even the Lionheart lineage has limits." Aurelia sighed. "Your growth is beautiful. But it is also frightening. You need real-world experience now—challenges, opponents, pressure. Only academies can give you that."
Loryn lowered his gaze reluctantly. "…I understand."
Aurelia nodded, satisfied.
"And besides," she continued, "you're entering the academy as Loryn, not Loryn Ironvale, Prince of the Omniverse."
Loryn inhaled sharply. He'd almost forgotten that part of the plan.
"That means," Aurelia said, stepping around him again, "we need to hide your appearance."
Loryn touched his blue hair. "Mother… my hair?"
"Yes. Your blue hair is unique to your father's direct lineage. Anyone who sees it will know who you are instantly."
She raised a hand, channeling a gentle but ancient holy glow—golden light wrapped her fingertips like divine silk.
Loryn watched silently as she placed her hand over his hair.
A soft hum filled the hall. The golden light rippled down his scalp. His blue hair shifted, strands turning darker, ink-like, until—
Black.
His reflection in the polished marble confirmed it.
Loryn reached up to touch it, disbelief softening his expression.
"It suits you," Aurelia said with a small smile. "A little too much, in fact."
Loryn blinked. "What about my eyes? They're golden. People will still—"
"Do not worry about them."
Aurelia tapped his forehead lightly.
"Golden eyes are rare, but not exclusive to royalty. Many divine-rank bloodlines possess golden traits. They won't connect you to us that easily. But…"
Her gaze softened further.
"Never hide them. Those eyes will one day shake the worlds themselves."
Loryn's throat tightened.
Aurelia wasn't someone who praised lightly. He bowed his head in silent gratitude.
"Now then." She brushed her golden hair behind her ear. "Go back to your castle. Rest. Prepare yourself mentally. You've trained beyond human limits for forty-five days straight. Your body needs recovery."
Loryn exhaled, almost relieved. "Yes, Mother."
Aurelia hesitated, then laid a hand on his shoulder.
"And Loryn?"
He looked up.
Aurelia Lionheart, the Eternal Conqueror, smiled—soft enough to melt stone.
"I am proud of you."
Those words hit him harder than any sword strike.
He bowed deeply.
"Thank you… Mother."
When Loryn returned to his personal wing of the castle, the atmosphere shifted instantly. The cold intensity of the training hall was replaced by warmth—soft carpets, polished silver ornaments, and familiar scents of home.
Alther, his ever-loyal companion, was the first to greet him.
"Loryn!"
The young man nearly skidded across the marble floor in excitement. His silver hair bounced with every step.
"You're back! You look—different?" His eyes widened as he noticed the black hair. "What happened to your blue hair?!"
Loryn gave a tired smile. "Mother changed it. I'm supposed to hide my identity when joining the academy."
"Ah… that makes sense." Alther circled him like an over-excited puppy. "Still weird, though. You look like a different person!"
Behind Alther, the servants gathered—men and women who had been by Loryn's side since childhood. They bowed respectfully.
"Welcome home, Young Master."
Loryn nodded politely. "It's good to be back."
His room felt warmer than he remembered. The soft mattress almost called out to him. His entire body felt like it was made of iron—heavy, stiff, but unbreakable.
Alther followed him inside. "So… how was training under Lady Aurelia?"
Loryn sat on the bed, exhaling deeply. "Intense."
Alther snorted. "Everything she does is intense."
Loryn didn't deny it.
He lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
"I have two days left before the academy exams."
"Right," Alther nodded. "Which academy do you want to join?"
Loryn hesitated.
He hadn't thought about it.
There were dozens—each famous, each elite. Some specialized in swordsmanship, others in magic, others in divine arts. All offered different strengths.
"...I don't know," Loryn admitted quietly.
Alther blinked. "You… don't know?"
Loryn sighed heavily. "I'll ask you in the morning. My mind's not working right now."
Alther giggled. "Understandable. You look like someone who fought thirty dragons in a row."
"Forty," Loryn corrected without thinking.
Alther froze. "Wait, WHAT?!"
Loryn closed his eyes. "Goodnight, Alther."
"But—"
"Goodnight."
Alther sighed dramatically. "Fine, fine. Sleep. I'll bring you breakfast tomorrow."
As the door closed and silence returned, Loryn let himself sink into the mattress.
His muscles ached. His bones hummed. His arms still carried the dull vibration of the sword.
Yet—
He felt peaceful.
For the first time in forty-five days, he wasn't dodging a slash, blocking an impossible strike, or trying not to pass out.
He stared at the ceiling one last time.
"One month and fifteen days… and only two left until the exams."
A small, tired smile tugged at his lips.
"I survived."
His eyelids slowly closed.
"Tomorrow," he whispered, "I'll ask Alther which academy is best."
Within seconds, exhaustion claimed him.
And Loryn Ironvale—no, simply Loryn—fell into the deepest, calmest sleep he had ever experienced.