The rain had not stopped since the incident in the forest.
It fell steadily over the stone roofs of House Valemont, washing the blood from the earth—but not from memory.
Inside the main hall, tension lingered like a drawn blade.
Aruford stood beside his father.
Small.
Silent.
Bandages wrapped around his torso beneath his tunic.
He had recovered far too quickly.
The Council Chamber
Three elders of House Valemont sat at the long obsidian table. Behind them hung the banner of their lineage—silver crest over midnight blue.
House Valemont was not the strongest noble house in Eldoria, but it was old.
And old houses feared anomalies.
"Five years old," Elder Marthis said flatly. "And he killed a corrupted horned wolf alone?"
"He survived," Aruford's father corrected. "The beast was finished by chance and instinct."
Marthis's gaze sharpened. "A chance that pierced directly through the eye."
Silence.
Another elder leaned forward. "The corruption in that wolf was not natural. It bore traces of dense mana fluctuations. Something pushed it beyond its tier."
"Are you implying sabotage?" Aruford's father asked evenly.
"I am implying," the elder replied, "that such beasts do not wander near noble estates without reason."
Aruford kept his head lowered.
But he listened.
Carefully.
Effector: Environmental Awareness improving.
Chosen One: Pattern Recognition active.
Even in stillness, something inside him catalogued tone, breath rhythm, hostility.
The third elder finally spoke.
"There is also the matter of his recovery."
That word hung heavier than any accusation.
Recovery.
Aruford's wound had begun closing before the healers arrived.
The house physician had gone pale.
The Healer's Report
In a side chamber, the old physician bowed stiffly.
"I have served House Valemont for forty years," he began. "I have treated battlefield injuries and mana poisoning alike."
His hands trembled faintly.
"I have never seen tissue regenerate at that speed in a child without divine blessing… or curse."
Silence.
Aruford's father remained composed.
"Are you suggesting my son carries an artifact? A relic?"
"No."
The physician swallowed.
"I am suggesting his mana flow reorganizes itself in response to trauma."
The room grew colder.
Outside the Door
Aruford stood alone in the corridor.
No one had ordered him to leave.
He simply did.
The rain tapped against tall windows.
He pressed a hand lightly against his bandaged side.
The pain was already fading.
Too fast.
Effector: Base Vitality +1
Chosen One: Adaptive Threshold expanded.
The messages came more frequently now.
Subtle.
But persistent.
The wolf had forced something open.
He could feel it.
A door inside him that had cracked slightly.
Not fully.
Not yet.
"…You are being watched," the distant voice whispered faintly.
Aruford didn't startle this time.
"I know," he replied silently.
"Good."
The presence felt thinner during the day.
Weaker.
But never gone.
Rumors in the Estate
Servants whispered.
Guards avoided meeting his eyes.
One young maid bowed too deeply, as if before royalty.
Aruford noticed everything.
He walked through the estate gardens slowly, observing.
Mana in the air felt different lately.
Denser near him.
Thinner when he focused.
Was that his imagination?
Or—
Effector: Ambient Absorption efficiency 0.3%
He blinked.
Absorption?
He had not consciously done anything.
Yet the stat adjusted itself.
He crouched beside a wilted flower bed.
Carefully, he reached out with his senses.
Not touching.
Just… feeling.
The soil.
The moisture.
The faint threads of mana.
They moved when he willed them to.
Barely.
Like ripples disturbed by a pebble.
His breathing slowed.
If the elders suspected something—
He would need control.
His Father's Warning
That evening, his father entered his room unannounced.
No guards.
No formality.
Just a man and his son.
"You frightened them," his father said calmly.
Aruford looked up.
"I didn't mean to."
"I know."
A pause.
"But intention does not matter in noble politics."
His father sat across from him.
"Listen carefully, Aruford. Talent invites expectation. Anomaly invites fear."
Aruford nodded.
"Are they afraid of me?"
His father's expression did not change.
"Yes."
The word landed heavier than any blade.
"Then… should I stop?" Aruford asked quietly.
Silence lingered.
His father studied him for a long moment.
"You cannot stop what you are. But you can choose when to show it."
That lesson sank deep.
Deeper than any sword form.
In the Night Once More
The void returned.
Stars fractured like broken glass.
The presence felt faintly amused.
"Pressure refines."
"They're scared," Aruford said.
"Yes."
"Is that good?"
"…Fear creates distance."
Aruford frowned.
"Distance from what?"
A pause.
"From interference."
The words were cryptic.
As always.
"You said I'll die once," Aruford whispered.
The stars dimmed.
"…Yes."
"When?"
"Sooner than they expect."
Aruford's small fists tightened.
"…Will it hurt?"
The presence did not answer immediately.
"…Yes."
Honest.
Cold.
Unwavering.
But beneath it—
Something almost protective.
"Then I'll get stronger before that," Aruford said quietly.
For the first time—
The fragment's presence pulsed with faint approval.
"Good."
Elsewhere in Eldoria
Far beyond House Valemont's estate—
Deep within a ruined shrine swallowed by forest—
A cracked obsidian altar flickered.
Mana surged unnaturally.
The same corruption signature found in the wolf pulsed again.
Something was probing.
Testing.
Watching.
And House Valemont was not the only one who had noticed the fluctuation.
Aruford slept peacefully that night.
Too peacefully.
Unaware that suspicion had already begun spreading beyond his family.
And that the first threads of fate were tightening.
End of Chapter 7