On the day of the tournament, Lusian did not step down from a carriage like most nobles. Instead, he rode Thunder, his majestic magical beast with white fur streaked with silver. At his side trotted Umber, the black wolf that never left him. His entrance was so imposing that the crowd fell silent for a moment. Eyes locked onto him, and whispers spread like ripples— it was not common to see someone so young riding a mythical creature with such confidence.
The Cymopelia Forest stretched north of Acropolis like a shroud of mist and twisted branches. At its edges stood pavilions and tents bearing the banners of noble houses. It was a grand event: the royal hunting tournament, organized annually by King Felipe. For five days, participants would enter the forest to hunt wild creatures and magical beasts. Whoever gathered the greatest number of high-class mana cores would earn prestige and glory for their house.
Nobles of every rank had gathered: from representatives of the thirteen most powerful families in the kingdom to lesser barons and knights. The air was thick with tension, pride, and ambition.
As he advanced toward the sector assigned to House Douglas, Lusian noticed how the other participants stepped aside in his path. Some bowed their heads; others watched him with a mixture of respect and envy. Conversations dropped into whispers. His black armor, elegantly designed with golden edges, reflected the morning sunlight. It was a mythical-grade magical artifact, a family relic that only direct heirs could wield. Possessing one of such level was a privilege within reach of very few, and for Lusian, more than a symbol of power, it was a burden. The attention it drew made him deeply uncomfortable.
In the distance, among the gathered knights and nobles, he saw his father, Duke Laurence Douglas, speaking with King Felipe and other dukes. Beside him stood Caleb, his older brother, clad in blue armor adorned with the family crest. Both noticed Lusian's arrival.
Laurence barely frowned. Though his expression remained composed, the rigidity of his posture betrayed his displeasure. Caleb, on the other hand, watched him with a cold, almost mocking smile. "You always make quite the entrance," Caleb said once Lusian was close enough.
"And you always hide behind words," Lusian replied without looking at him.
The atmosphere turned tense. Even the knights accompanying them exchanged uneasy glances. Laurence intervened with a firm voice. "Enough. We are in the presence of royalty," he said, fixing his gaze on Lusian. "We are not here to argue, but to demonstrate the strength of our house."
Lusian inclined his head slightly, more out of formality than respect. He knew his relationship with his father was nothing more than a façade maintained for political convenience. Laurence had never truly considered him his son, and Caleb never bothered to hide his resentment. Deep down, Lusian suspected they both saw him as an inconvenience—one too protected by Sofia.
Even so, the contrast between the three was evident. Laurence projected authority and nobility; Caleb, arrogance and control; and Lusian, a cold, composed presence that commanded respect without raising his voice.
When Sofia appeared in the spectators' area, all attention shifted toward her. Duchess Douglas was impossible to ignore: elegant, imposing, and accompanied by her magical lion, a colossal creature whose roar silenced any conversation. Her gaze met Lusian's, and he caught a faint trace of pride in her expression.
The sound of golden trumpets marked the beginning of the ceremony. King Felipe ascended the platform, accompanied by Prince Andrew Erkhan, representative of the royal family. Behind them stood the representatives of the most influential houses: the dukes Bourlande and Sneider, and the counts Armett, Kessler, Macllister, Stanley, Briggs, Mondring, Denisse, Carter, and Brown.
The air vibrated with anticipation. Every noble, every warrior, every magical beast seemed to hold its breath before the forest opened its jaws and the hunt began. Lusian inhaled deeply, aware that the tournament would not only be a test of skill… but a board where alliances, secrets, and betrayals would move under the king's gaze.
A chill ran down Lusian's spine when he spotted Count Denisse among the attendees. He remembered the incident with Baron Joel and how his execution had shaken the capital. In silence, he wondered what face the count truly hid behind that mask of courtesy.
As the king delivered his opening speech, Lusian turned his gaze back toward the Cymopelia Forest. A cold breeze brushed against his face. That place, veiled in mist and twisted trees, was not merely a hunting ground—it was the beginning of something far darker. He knew it. In the game, this tournament had marked the first tragedy: the assassination of Prince Andrew and the downfall of the Erkhan kingdom.
Lusian's heart began to pound beneath his armor. He didn't know whether fate would follow the same course, but one thing was certain: this time, he would not remain a mere spectator.
After the formal greetings of the nobility, the king's spokesman stepped onto the central platform. His voice rang out clearly over the expectant murmur of the crowd.
"By order of His Majesty, the royal hunting tournament shall now begin," he announced. "Listen carefully to the rules of the event, for their enforcement will be strict."
A solemn silence spread across the grounds.
"First," he continued, "the tournament will last five days. At sunset on the fifth day, it will conclude. Anyone who has not returned by then will be disqualified—no exceptions."
Some exchanged uneasy glances. The Cymopelia Forest was not forgiving to those who lost their way within its mist.
"Second, all participants must use the spatial storage device provided by the royal family. No other artifact will be permitted. Prey must retain proof of being hunted within the valid period. Count Macllister, in collaboration with a spatial mage, will personally oversee the verification of all collected game."
"Third, the scoring system will award points based on the class of the hunted enemies."
The spokesman raised a scroll and began reading in a solemn tone:
Monster Classes
A: 1000 points
B: 500 points
C: 200 points
D: 50 points
E: 20 points
F: 10 points
Magical Beast Classes
Omega: 5000 points
Epsilon: 2000 points
Delta: 1000 points
Gamma: 500 points
Beta: 200 points
Alpha: 100 points
Lusian absorbed every word. In this world, creatures were divided into two major categories:
Monsters were wild beings, born from an excess of mana in nature. Though dangerous, their power was limited and their energy unstable. Magical beasts, on the other hand, were conscious creatures, endowed with pure mana cores and complex magical structures. Some could even understand human language and form bonds with warriors. For that reason, hunting a magical beast granted far more prestige—and mana—than defeating a mere monster.
"Finally, engaging in combat between participants is strictly forbidden. This is a hunting tournament, not a war between houses," the spokesman concluded.
A wave of murmurs spread among the nobles, blending excitement with tension. Lusian remained silent, observing his surroundings. He knew that beyond prizes and prestige, what truly drove the families was mana—and that every move within the forest could shift not only the standing of a house, but that of the entire kingdom.
In this world, personal growth did not depend on simple training or rituals, but on consumption. The creatures and plants of the forest absorbed mana from their surroundings, and by consuming their flesh or essence, hunters could strengthen their bodies and expand their magical core. The higher the prey's level, the greater the benefit. That was why hunting tournaments were not mere competitions—they were battles for power, evolution, and survival.
Suddenly, through the mist and the murmur of the participants, a familiar figure appeared in the distance: Emily. She walked with steady steps, her light armor gleaming under the first rays of sunlight. Her presence, though graceful, carried a quiet determination. As she approached, she inclined her head slightly in greeting before lifting her gaze and offering a shy smile.
"You're participating too?" Lusian asked, surprised to see her there.
"Yes," she replied with a faint smile. "It's better to be active in the event than stay in camp. Lately… no one seems to want my company."
Lusian noticed the discomfort in her tone. He didn't need to ask to understand. Since the incident with Baron Joel, Emily had become an uncomfortable topic among the noble families. Many avoided her, afraid of offending the Douglas family or becoming entangled with someone linked to such a public execution. On top of that, her engagement to Lusian made her even more distant in the eyes of the young nobility, who regarded her with either resentment or envy.
"So you'd rather hunt monsters than endure their stares," Lusian said with a knowing smile.
Emily nodded, slightly embarrassed. "I suppose so. At least in the forest, I don't have to worry about what they whisper about me."
"Be careful, and don't stray from your group," Lusian warned, his tone protective.
Emily looked at him, surprised. "You're worried about me, Lord Lusian?"
"Just call me Lusian," he replied with a genuine smile. "And yes… I am."
Emily lowered her gaze, blushing. "Thank you, Lusian. I'll be careful. You take care too, alright?"
Lusian nodded before mounting his beast again. She watched him leave, feeling for the first time in days that someone saw her beyond the rumors and fear.
After parting ways with her, Lusian climbed back onto Thunder, adjusting the reins. Umber walked beside him, sniffing the damp forest air. He rejoined his group, led by Albert, an experienced magister with a calm gaze and commanding voice.
The group consisted of sixteen members:
1 Lord-Delta: Charles Grell
4 Lord-Gamma
3 Lord-Beta
4 Lord-Alpha
2 Lord
1 Magister-Gamma: Albert (leader)
Lusian, Legionario-Delta
Albert, mounted on a lesser winged beast, turned to them and spoke strategically. "Listen. The Cymopelia Forest is full of insect-type creatures. We'll avoid colonies and focus on isolated hunts. We want quality, not quantity. Don't waste energy on low-level prey."
The group nodded firmly. Lusian, meanwhile, discreetly activated a mental link with Umber, sending him to search for Prince Andrew. If the story followed the same course as in the game, Andrew would die here.
If I manage to save him, he'll owe me a favor. And that favor could change the future, Lusian thought.
Hours passed cautiously. For the first two, they hunted only small Class D monsters. It was routine, uneventful… until the ground trembled.
From the swamp emerged a colossal figure: a giant scorpion, its dark carapace gleaming, its eyes glowing like embers. Venom dripped from its stinger, and each of its steps made the ground quake.
Albert raised his hand. "Everyone back! That thing is Class B!" he warned sharply.
Lusian smiled faintly, a glint in his eyes—a mix of excitement and calculation.
"Perfect… just what I needed."