After more than twenty hours traveling westward toward the north, the long voyage gave Lucian and Darius enough time to learn more about one another. Darius, it turned out, had no wife or children despite his noble status. It wasn't loneliness that defined him but choice — the freedom of a man who had long decided that wealth was preferable to attachment.
At last, the ship docked at the continent of Westoria, home of the Great Kingdom of Drakia. From there, they made their way toward the capital without anyone recognizing Darius. Lucian had seen to that — a single wave of his hand conjured a sleek black mask that hid the noble's face entirely.
From above, the kingdom stretched across jagged plains like a dark crown upon the earth. Its capital, Drakos, glimmered in the distance — a fortress of gold and shadow. Towering spires reached toward the clouds, their tips carved into dragon heads with eyes of ruby glass. The city's walls, hewn from black stone and carved with sigils that shimmered faintly under sunlight, enclosed streets laid in perfect concentric rings. Each layer rose higher than the last, giving the impression that the city itself sought the heavens.
Crimson and gold banners rippled in the wind. The scent of hot metal and incense filled the air, the sounds of marching boots and fluttering flags echoing through wide avenues. A city of warriors, scholars, and ambition. Yet even here, Lucian sensed imbalance. Shadows lingered in the alleys between noble estates and the poorer districts below, whispering of hidden fractures in a land that looked unshakable.
They arrived at Darius's mansion before dusk. The estate loomed grandly at the edge of the noble quarter, its walls of pale stone polished until they gleamed. Wrought-iron gates parted to reveal a long cobblestone path bordered by sculpted hedges and dragon statues that exhaled faint wisps of vapor through enchantment.
The air smelled of wealth and comfort.
When they reached the front door, however, the illusion of perfection cracked.
Darius patted his pockets, frowned, and sighed deeply.
"Must've lost my keys during the kidnapping... Zion, you're going to have to break the door."
Lucian's lips curved faintly. "There is no need for that."
He knelt slightly, studying the keyhole. A shimmer of black light pulsed at his fingertip, coalescing into a jagged, smoke-formed key. It slid into the lock with a soft click.
"That ability of yours is surprisingly useful," Darius said, half impressed, half amused.
With a theatrical sweep of his arm, Darius pushed the doors wide and stepped aside.
"Welcome to your new home!" he announced, spinning lightly on his heel. For a man in his forties, his energy bordered on youthful — almost childishly exuberant.
The grand hall swallowed them in light and space. Chandeliers glittered overhead, scattering golden reflections across marble floors. Velvet curtains framed tall windows; the scent of polished wood and fresh flowers filled the air. Ornate paintings of dragons and battlefields hung along the staircase, their colors rich and ancient.
"So," Darius asked, turning back to him, "what do you think?"
Lucian inclined his head, expression subtle but unmistakably approving.
"Incredible… compared to my previous home, it is as if I have stepped into heaven itself."
Darius smiled faintly. "The person who saved my life deserves nothing less than this."
Lucian's gaze wandered briefly across the glittering chandeliers, then back to Darius.
"Anyway, Mr. Vaelmo—"
"No, no," Darius interrupted with a grin. "Not Mr."
Lucian cleared his throat, tone unchanged. "Excuse me. Father. You mentioned that I must be prepared for school without delay."
"Ah—school actually started yesterday," Darius said, rubbing the back of his neck. "No worries. If I pull a few strings, you'll be in by tomorrow."
***
The rest of the day passed in a blur of quiet manipulation. Darius, through charm and influence, accomplished what should have been impossible: forged citizenship papers for Lucian in a single afternoon, and secured him a seat in the world's most prestigious academy — the Imperial Academy of Auramancy — despite the term already having begun.
Lucian observed it all with calm satisfaction. Status opened many doors.
By morning, everything was in place.
Lucian stood outside the mansion in his new uniform — a black jacket trimmed in gold, a single gold stripe crossing the chest, crisp white shirt beneath, black trousers pressed to a knife's edge, and boots polished to mirror sheen. A carriage waited on the cobblestone road, its crest bearing the Vaelmont sigil: a coiled dragon wrapped around a blazing sun.
Darius stood beside him in his pajamas, a cup of coffee in hand.
"Cheers!" he called out before taking a sip.
Lucian turned to him, his tone even.
"Oh, Father… regarding your kidnapping, I suspect there was a third party pulling the strings behind it."
The noble froze mid-sip, his eyes widening. "What?"
"Yes. I must take my leave for now, but I can assist with the investigation once I have a break from school. Until then, be cautious of the women you keep in your company."
Lucian walked to the carriage as though the words had been casual conversation, leaving Darius standing in stunned silence.
*'Be cautious of the women you keep in your company?'*
The coffee went cold in his hand.
***
Lucian's first day at the Imperial Academy began quietly.
The Aura Mastery Hall was enormous — white stone walls lined with windows that spilled daylight across a sea of students seated on meditation mats. Each wore the same loose, gray training garb, breaths steady as they prepared to focus.
Lucian stood beside the instructor, his posture calm, his eyes sharp.
The teacher, Elara Cael, looked every bit the master of her craft — graceful and composed. Her long pink hair cascaded down her back like silk, and her robes — pale gray and white — moved as though woven from air itself. Her eyes, soft blue, seemed to pierce straight through pretense.
"Alright, everyone," she announced. "Meet your new classmate — Zion Vaelmont."
Murmurs rippled through the class.
"As in... Darius Vaelmont?"
"He has a son?"
"Was he hiding him all this time?"
Elara's calm voice cut through the noise. "Alright, class, settle down. Zion here is adopted."
A hand rose hesitantly. "Why is he only attending on the third day of school?"
"Well," she said with a faint smile, "he was recommended late as a Special Talent — and by a Champion, no less."
Gasps filled the hall.
"A Champion?"
"Maybe he got adopted because of his talent."
Elara turned back to Lucian. "Alright, Zion. Welcome to Aura Mastery. Being a Special Talent, I'm guessing I don't need to explain how this works, right?"
"Of course, Teacher. I am already well-versed in the study of Aura," Lucian replied smoothly.
And he was. Though humans and demons cultivated power differently, aura followed the same fundamental laws. Whether among humans or demons, the core principle remained the same — mastery of life energy refined into will. However, demons, by nature, carried deeper reservoirs and sharper potency.
"Good," Elara said. "Then go ahead and take your mat."
Lucian sat cross-legged at the back, eyes half-lidded. The room fell silent as students began their meditations.
[Aura exists within the body as subatomic particles, much like matter itself. At first, these particles move freely, constantly overlapping like flowing water. Mastery comes from organizing them—arranging each one into a stable, structured form similar to a solid.
Every person carries millions of these particles, each varying in shape and size. The goal is to find the best possible arrangement, like solving an endless puzzle. How they're spaced and bonded determines the density of your aura—dense aura strikes harder, defends better, and wastes less energy. A well-aligned aura hits like a stone; a chaotic one splashes like water.
Meditation is the path to refinement. Over time, you discover better patterns, chasing the elusive "perfect" arrangement. Those who achieve it unlock something far greater...]
Elara's voice echoed softly. "The period ends in two hours. Give it your all."
***
By lunch, word of Darius Vaelmont's mysterious 'son' had spread across the academy like wildfire.
Lucian entered the cafeteria with composed steps, plate in hand, his face impassive as hundreds of eyes followed him. Whispers rustled through the air — curiosity, envy, speculation.
A flicker of thought crossed his mind, sharp and controlled.
*This identity bears advantages… but attention will only hinder me. Popularity is poison to quiet work.*
His plan crystallized instantly. Step one: build a forgettable image.
He approached a bench at the cafeteria's edge, where two ordinary-looking students sat. Both stiffened as he neared.
"Hello. May I join you?" he asked evenly.
They exchanged uncertain looks. "Uh, sure. No problem."
"Great." Lucian's faint smile didn't reach his eyes. He set down his tray and sat beside them. The crowd's curiosity began to wane.
"So," he said, voice casual but deliberate, "introductions, then. The teacher has already spoken for me. Now, I wish to learn more about each of you."
The boy across from him spoke first. Jet-black hair fell over sharp steel-gray eyes; his composure neat, his uniform immaculate. "I'm Ren Caldwen."
Lucian turned to the other — short brown hair, hazel eyes warm with easy friendliness. His sleeves were rolled up, collar slightly undone. "I'm Ethan Vale."
Lucian inclined his head. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Ren leaned forward, curiosity overcoming hesitation. "So, who was the Champion that recommended you?"
"Crash."
"Crash?!" Both said at once, eyes widening.
Their voices rose enough to turn nearby heads. The cafeteria froze for a heartbeat before returning to its usual hum.
Lucian's tone didn't shift. "Oh my… is this Crash your favorite, perchance?"
"Definitely," Ren said without hesitation.
"Well, he's my second favorite," Ethan added. "What about how you got adopted by Vaelmont?"
Lucian's gaze flickered. "Forgive me, friend, but I cannot reveal that."
Before they could press further, a ripple of murmurs swept the room. Heads turned toward the entrance.
A young man had just walked in — tall, awkward, wrapped in a uniform too large for his frame. Blonde hair fell unevenly over his forehead; his golden eyes darted nervously as if searching for escape. Despite the noble features, he carried himself like someone trying not to exist.
Lucian's eyes tracked him. "And who is he?"
Ethan looked surprised. "You don't know? That's the second prince of Drakia, Reiner Ashbourne."
Ren smirked. "Otherwise known as the Cancer of Ashbourne."
*Interesting.* Lucian didn't need more explanation. The title spoke volumes — a prince who failed to meet expectations.
As Lucian observed, a girl approached the prince, slipping a folded note into his trembling hands. Lucian's enhanced demonic senses caught every whisper.
"He said meet him at this location, at this time," she murmured before leaving.
Lucian's gaze darkened, his interest sharpened.
This was it. A new thread in the web he intended to weave.
His next scheme had just begun.