(Helior's POV)
The night after Julien's first training, I did not sleep.
Age teaches a man many things, but it does not teach him how to quiet his thoughts when the future begins to move.
I stood alone in my study, looking at the city beyond the window.
Gurukul's lights glimmered like scattered stars.
Peaceful.
Too peaceful.
And I thought of everything that had happened in so short a time.
It began with the banquet.
A gathering meant to celebrate nothing more dangerous than family and routine.
We had known an attack was possible.
We had prepared.
Guards placed in hidden positions.Alicia assigned to evacuation routes.I stationed myself near the central hall.
Even so, the vampires still found a way in.
They always do.
The first scream had come from the west wing.
Then the barriers failed.
Then chaos.
I remember drawing my weapon and feeling that familiar, hateful calm settle into my bones.
War had returned.
Not on a battlefield.
In my home.
I engaged two vampires at once, driving them away from the guests.
Alicia moved exactly as I had taught her—calm, precise, protecting before attacking.
David and Maria evacuated guests.
Everything was going according to plan.
Until it wasn't.
I sensed it before I saw it.
A disturbance.
Not mana.
Not killing intent.
Something… unstable.
I turned.
And saw my grandson running.
Not away from danger.
Toward it.
Julien.
Moving faster than a boy his age should.
Not skilled.
Not trained.
But driven by instinct alone.
At that moment, I understood something that chilled me.
He was not acting like a child.
He was acting like a man who had already lost someone once before.
I tried to reach him.
Too far.
A vampire lunged for the child.
Joshua.
And then—
The impossible happened.
A barrier formed.
Not from an artifact.
Not from a spell chant.
From instinct.
From surrounding vapor.
Crude.
Imperfect.
But perfectly placed.
The attack rebounded.
The vampire was thrown into the rubble.
Half buried.
And Julien stood there.
Smiling.
Not the smile of courage.
Not the smile of madness.
The smile of someone who had forced himself not to break.
I had fought for decades.
I had seen heroes.
I had seen monsters.
But that moment…
That moment frightened me.
Because I recognized that expression.
It was the same expression worn by soldiers who survive too many battles.
Alicia finished the vampire.
The rest retreated.
The night ended.
We survived.
But something fundamental had changed.
The next morning, the news spread faster than I expected.
Reporters.
Rumors.
Speculation.
Some called Julien a prodigy.
Some called him a miracle.
They were all wrong.
He was neither.
He was a child who had been forced to grow too quickly.
When he showed us his status, I felt both relief and unease.
Class: Jester.
Potential: SS.
Not overwhelming.
Not terrifying.
But dangerous in its own way.
A class built not for power—
But for control.
And then the artifact awakened.
Goldfinger's Legacy.
I had not expected it.
Not after so many years of silence.
When Brann gave me that deck, he told me:
"These cards are useless in the hands of those who want to win.""They are only useful to those who want others to survive."
In all my years, the deck had never responded.
Not once.
Not to my mana.
Not to my intent.
And then—
It chose Julien.
Not because he was strong.
Because he was suitable.
That frightened me more than any enemy.
Today was his first true training day.
I watched him stand in the hall, staring at his status.
Not in excitement.
In concern.
That, at least, reassured me.
Most children are intoxicated by power.
He was wary of it.
When I saw the description of his trait—
Happy Face.
Forced Emotional Mask.
I understood immediately.
The system did not trust him to remain rational under extreme stress.
So it would override him.
Force calm.
Force control.
Even if it meant damaging his emotions.
That kind of trait is given only to two kinds of people.
Those who are destined to become monsters.
Or those who must never become one.
When he asked me if he was dangerous, I told him the truth.
Everyone with power is.
The difference is whether they know it.
Julien knows it.
That is why I decided something important today.
I will not train him as a warrior.
I will not train him as a hero.
I will train him as a human being who happens to wield power.
His Dash is not an attack.
His Barrier is not a shield.
They are tools for positioning.
For saving.
For controlling the flow of disaster.
He will never be the strongest.
And that is good.
Because the strongest ones always die first.
As I write this, the estate sleeps.
Joshua dreams peacefully.
Alicia trains in silence.
Julien rests, exhausted from a day that should have been impossible for him.
And I…
I prepare.
Because I know something the others do not.
Artifacts awaken for a reason.
Systems reveal traits for a reason.
Classes manifest at critical points in history for a reason.
The world is moving again.
And now—
So is my grandson.
Julien Morvain is not a hero.
Not a savior.
Not a chosen one.
He is something far more dangerous.
A boy who remembers loss.
A boy who values life.
A boy who smiles when he should be breaking.
If I fail to guide him properly—
He will either save many people.
Or he will destroy himself.
And as his grandfather…
That responsibility is heavier than any war I have ever fought.