Leonhart Virelle woke up to sunlight filtered through enchanted glass.
The light adjusted itself automatically, warm but gentle, never harsh on the eyes. The room smelled faintly of citrus and polished wood. Silk curtains drifted lazily as the morning breeze passed through the open balcony.
Leonhart stretched.
His body felt light. Healthy. Perfect.
A servant knocked once and entered without waiting, placing a silver tray beside the bed. Breakfast was already warm. Tea brewed to the exact temperature he preferred. The eggs were seasoned just right. Even the fruit had been peeled.
"Good morning, Young Master," the servant said.
Leonhart nodded, barely acknowledging him.
He did not need to. Everyone knew who he was.
He rose from bed and walked to the balcony, overlooking the capital city. Towers gleamed in the distance. Mana traffic floated through the air in orderly streams. Below, people hurried to jobs they hated, chasing dreams they would never reach.
Leonhart smiled.
He lifted one hand casually.
A small flame bloomed above his palm.Pure. Crimson. Elegant.
Incinerate.
His innate ability responded instantly, the fire shaping itself like a loyal pet. It never burned him. Never slipped out of control. It was power refined through generations of bloodlines and wealth.
Leonhart extinguished the flame with a thought.
He showered, dressed, and descended the marble stairs of his estate. Every step echoed prestige. Paintings of past family members lined the walls, each one a powerful awakened in their own right.
Legacy mattered.
At the dining hall, his father sat reading a report.
"The Tower reopened," his father said without looking up. "Many will die."
Leonhart took a sip of tea."That is unfortunate."
"You will enter later," his father continued. "Not now. You do not need to rush."
Leonhart nodded calmly.
Of course he did not.
He trained because he wanted to.Not because he needed to.
After breakfast, he headed to the private training grounds. The field was vast, reinforced with layered enchantments. No spectators. No noise. Just him and the air.
Leonhart inhaled.
Then he raised his hand.
Fire erupted.
Not wild.Not explosive.Perfect.
Targets melted instantly. Stone barriers vanished. Training constructs disintegrated without resistance. His control was flawless, every movement practiced, every flame measured.
Watching him was like watching art.
The instructor applauded quietly from the sidelines."Exceptional as always."
Leonhart dismissed the praise with a slight wave.
Later, he strolled through the academy grounds. Students parted instinctively when they saw him. Some stared in awe. Others looked away, bitter and resentful.
Whispers followed him.
"That is Virelle.""He is already cleared for upper floors.""They say his Incinerate can erase bosses."
Leonhart did not listen.
He had heard it all before.
A group of girls giggled nearby, pretending not to watch him. Leonhart smiled politely as he passed. Their faces flushed.
He had looks.Talent.Money.A future guaranteed.
Everything was easy.
In the afternoon, he relaxed in a mana bath, warmth sinking into his muscles. Servants discussed schedules. A tailor arrived with new uniforms. Invitations to elite gatherings piled on his desk.
Life flowed smoothly.
Perfectly.
That evening, Leonhart stood alone on his balcony again, watching the city lights flicker on. Somewhere far away, the Tower loomed, invisible from here but always present.
He felt no fear.
Only anticipation.
"Soon," he murmured.
Then, far below, deep within the Tower, a nameless floor shook violently.
Leonhart's flame flickered.
Just for a moment.
And for the first time in his life,he felt something unfamiliar tighten in his chest.
Unease.