Trafalgarâs consciousness drifted upward slowly, as if dragging itself out of a swamp. His eyelids twitched firstâheavy, uncooperative, three times harder to lift than they shouldâve been. The familiar softness of the Morgain castle sheets pressed against his skin, too warm, too comfortable for what he last remembered.
â...What the hell...?â
He forced his eyes open. Light stabbed them. His breath hitched. The ceiling above him swam briefly in and out of focus, ornate carvings he had memorized months ago now looking foreign.
He tried moving an arm.
Pain. Not sharpâjust everywhere. Like his entire skeleton had been disassembled and reattached incorrectly.
âFeels like I got trampled by a fucking stampede... Did Valttair bring me back here? Noâsomeone mustâve dragged me. I was unconscious...â
He pushed himself upright.
Or tried to.
His muscles trembled violently, refusing to cooperate. Every fiber in his body screamed in protest. It felt like his nerves were flickering, rebooting, recalibrating to a body he wasnât used to anymore.
It took him several breathsâslow, controlled, painfulâto finally sit up. Sweat beaded instantly along his forehead.
He blinked hard.
âMy room. Okay. That means... that means thatâs over. I survived. Somehow.â
His eyes narrowed.
âBut why am I dressed...?â
He neverâneverâslept clothed. Meditating nude helped mana circulate, helped him absorb ambient energy while he rested. Yet someone had clearly changed him, put him into simple black sleepwear, even tucked him in.
That alone was unsettling.
He let out a shaky exhale and shifted his focus inward, searching instinctively for his mana core.
And froze.
"...Holyâ"
The flow of mana inside him was nothing like he remembered. It was smoother, brighterâalmost liquid in its purity. A continuous river, perfectly controlled, perfectly contained.
âHoly shit. This is insane. What the hell did Valttair do to me? This is crazy...â
He pressed a hand to his sternum, as if the core sat there instead of deep within.
The memory hit him in pieces. Valttairâs hand on his back. Mana flooding into him like molten metal. The agonyâwhite, blinding. His vision collapsing. The world going black.
âRight. I fainted. No surprise there. Nobody should survive something like that.â
He inhaled deeply, wincing as his ribs protested.
Slowlyâvery slowlyâhe swung his legs off the bed. His feet touched the cold stone floor, jolting him awake a little further. Every step he took toward the window felt like walking through mud, his muscles stiff as iron rods hammered out of shape.
He grabbed the curtain, pulling it aside.
A pale dawn light spilled into the room.
The sun was barely rising; the sky was washed in blue-grey mist.
â...Itâs morning? So itâs the next day already.â
He stared for a long moment, expression unreadable.
âGuess they didnât just leave me to die on the floor. Thatâs a plus.â
The mountain winds outside howled between the distant peaksâreminding him why no one sane built a castle at this altitude. Snowflakes drifted downward into the abyss below, disappearing before reaching anything solid.
Trafalgar let out a slow breath.
âIâm alive. Barely. But alive. And whatever the hell Valttair pushed into me... it changed everything.â
He turned away from the window, every bone still aching, and headed for the bathroom.
He needed a shower.
The bathroom filled with fog the moment Trafalgar twisted the mana-heated valve. Hot water thundered down his shoulders and spine, and he clenched his teeth as it hitâbecause everything hurt. Not the sharp kind of pain, but a deep, bruised ache that pulsed with every heartbeat.
He braced a hand against the stone wall, letting the water run over him.
âFeels like my bones are humming... like somethingâs still rearranging itself inside me.â
The steam thickened, curling around his skin like drifting clouds. He dragged his fingers through his hair, pushing it back as he exhaled.
His muscles were tighter, denser. And beneath the soreness, there was... something else.
A strange lightness.
A clarity just under the surface.
He looked down.
His veinsâespecially along the arm with the serpent-like markâwere faintly glowing. Subtle, like distant starlight under skin. But glowing nonetheless.
"...Great," he muttered. "As if I didnât have enough freak shit going on."
He rinsed his face, water dripping from his jaw as he stared at his reflection in the fogged mirror.
He didnât look different. Not at first glance. Same black hair. Same cold dark blue eyes. Same sharp features.
But there was something new in his expression.
A quiet sharpness.
A strange stillness.
A pressure behind his eyes that made him feel... older.
He stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel, drying himself off carefullyâevery movement forcing a wince from sore muscles.
Once dressed, he reached for his trousersâthen froze as something flickered at the edge of his vision.
A notification.
A shining window of system-blue text materialized in front of him.
[Passive Skill: Morgain Blade has leveled up to (Lv. Max) â Unique Rank]
Trafalgarâs eyes widened.
"...Holy shit."
This time, it slipped out aloud.
He tapped the window mentally, opening the skill details.
[Morgain Blade â Passive Skill â Lv. Max]
⢠+50% Morgain Skills Damage
⢠Aura efficiency increased Sword techniques require less mana + increased precision
He stared at it for a full five seconds.
âFrom fifteen percent... to fifty? Thatâs not a boost. Thatâs a fucking mutation.â
His heart kicked into a faster rhythm.
Everything he learned in the sword formsâevery cut, every flowâwas now fifty percent deadlier. And the aura precision? That alone would make him terrifying in duels.
He placed a hand over his chest again.
His mana core pulsed beneath his palmâbrighter and stronger than ever, trembling at the edge of breakthrough.
âHoly shit... Iâm actually close to the next core. Already. Just from that... suicide ritual Valttair called "training."â
He exhaled shakily and sat on the edge of the bed, towel still around his shoulders, his mind racing.
âOkay... okay. This is insane. Painful as hell, but insane. Iâm basically a newborn with a nuke strapped inside my ribcage.â
His muscles throbbed. His veins still glimmered faintly. His mana core shone like a lantern begging to explode.
And his entire body felt caught between rebirth... and aftermath.
Trafalgar ran a hand through his damp hair.
âAlright... I need some food.â
He stood up, pulling on a dark jacket as he moved toward the doorâ
âand froze as he saw a familiar silhouette waiting just outside.
Caelum.
Perfect posture.
Hands clasped behind his back.
Yellow eyes sharp and calm.
"Good morning, young master," Caelum said, bowing slightly. "How are you feeling?"
Trafalgar huffed. "Like a newborn that got hit by a damn carriage."
A faint smirk ghosted across Caelumâs lips. "Your appearance... is indeed brighter."
Trafalgar stepped out into the hall. "Great. So I glow now."
"It suits you, young master," Caelum replied calmly.
Trafalgar blinked. "...What?"
"Never mind," Caelum said. "Come. You need food."
They walked together down the quiet corridor, the castle still wrapped in early dawn stillness. The air smelled faintly of cold stone and distant snowfall.
Trafalgar shoved his hands into his pockets. "So... while I was apparently sleeping like a corpse, did anything happen?"
Caelum didnât look at him. "Yes. Quite a lot."
They reached a turn in the hallway before Caelum added, "Young master... you were unconscious for five days."
Trafalgar stopped dead.
"FiveâWHAT?"
Caelum finally faced him. "Five days. You collapsed in the training chamber after Lord Valttair began the mana infusion."
Trafalgar blinked. "Collapsed... right, I remember pain. Then nothing."
Caelumâs expression tightenedâjust slightly. "Allow me to clarify. You did not simply collapse. You were overwhelmed. Your fatherâs mana was too potent, too dense, too aggressive. Your body shut down to survive."
Trafalgar stared.
"...Meaning?"
Caelum exhaled softly. "Meaning Lord Valttair kept pushing more mana into you long after you lost consciousness."
Trafalgar froze.
"...He WHAT?"
"He entered a state of... fixation," Caelum said carefully. "Almost frenzy-like. As if the moment he saw your potential, he forgot restraint."
Trafalgarâs stomach dropped. "So he lost it."
"Yes," Caelum replied. "He was consumed by the idea of shaping your core. I considered intervening."
Trafalgar blinked, startled. "You? Intervene against Valttair?"
Caelum nodded once. "If he had pushed one breath more mana into your nucleus... your body would have ruptured. I was ready to stop him."
Trafalgar swallowed hard. "...Why didnât you?"
Caelumâs voice lowered. "Because your body endured."
Trafalgar stared blankly. "Huh?"
"You adapted," Caelum said. "Instantly. Unnaturally. Your mana pathways expanded on their own. Your nucleus didnât fractureâit absorbed everything he forced into you." He paused. "Even Lord Valttair was... shocked."
Trafalgar rubbed his face. "So I didnât survive thanks to Valttairâs controlâI survived because my body decided not to die?"
"Correct."
"Fantastic," Trafalgar muttered. "Iâm built different. Literally."
They resumed walking.
"And," Caelum added, "your father was... affected. When it ended, he was pale, shaking, and drenched in sweat. Forcing that much mana out of himself took a toll. Even he nearly collapsed."
Trafalgar blinked again.
"...He almost passed out too?"
Caelum nodded. "He pushed himself as far as he pushed you."
Trafalgar let out a long sigh.
"So we both almost died. Father-son bonding at its finest."
A faint smile tugged at Caelumâs lips. "If you wish to phrase it that way."
Trafalgar groaned. "I need food before I process any more of this."
"As you wish," Caelum said, guiding him forward. "But understand one thing: surviving that ordeal was not normal. It means your bodyâs compatibility with mana is... exceptional. Even terrifying."
Trafalgar huffed. "Great. Add that to the list of things thatâll keep me awake at night."
And together, they headed toward the dining hall.