It was summer.
The sun stood at its peak, casting golden light across an enormous estate. Built over thousands of square feet, the mansion stretched across rolling green hills, framed by pavilions, gardens, a private pool, and even its own training grounds.
Inside one of its many rooms, a small boy—barely three years old—sat upright with surprising posture for someone his age. He was hunched over a book far too large for him, blue eyes scanning the pages with laser focus. His short crimson-red hair swayed gently as a breeze slipped through the open window.
His name was Kasimir Asheensteel.
Unlike other children, Kasimir possessed a mind far beyond his years. Since birth, he hadn't forgotten a single thing—except one.
The day of his birth.
Even that day was a faint impression burned into his memory: a towering figure like a mountain, radiating immeasurable strength. He didn't know it yet, but it was his father.
At one year old, he began communicating fluently. By age two, he could read and speak without error, stunning the maids and staff. Now in his third year, his intellect had only sharpened further—though his body hadn't caught up. He remained clumsy, his tiny frame still growing into itself.
⸻
"Magic and Essence—two forces tied together. Essence is the force that flows through all living things. Magic beasts, blessed by nature, absorb it passively through breathing, eating, even sleeping. But humans…"
Kasimir's eyes traced each word as he read aloud from the book.
"…humans must forge Contracts—earned either through surviving trials in ancient ruins and dungeons, or inherited through bloodlines able to rebuild the lost Contract Altars. These pacts grant power, forming a bond between the bearer and the entity beyond."
"Those who form such pacts are called: Contract Bearers."
He read, memorized, analyzed. Every word etched itself into his mind like runes into steel.
"So… a Contract Bearer. I wonder if I can become one…"
Just as he turned the page, the door creaked open. A maid entered, dressed in a simple uniform with her hair tied into the standard ponytail.
Without a word, she gently picked him up.
"It's time for young master to take his bath."
Kasimir didn't protest. He was always oddly obedient—he had figured out some time ago that he was a noble of some kind. Everyone called him young master, and the way they carried themselves around him made it clear he was someone important.
And the guests…
Noble visitors came often, their attire always extravagant, their speech foreign. They spoke a different language among themselves—one Kasimir had never studied but could still understand as if by instinct.
He noticed. Every detail.
⸻
'Strange… I understand them even though I've never learned a word of that tongue.'
⸻
He didn't know it yet, but even among nobles, he was something… different.
⸻
'I wonder if uncle will visit me today.'
His uncle, Barsan Asheensteel, was a powerful man. He shared Kasimir's blue eyes and crimson hair—but Barsan's arms were covered in scars. He always arrived with four silent knights dressed in silver armor and bearing shadow-forged blades.
Barsan visited weekly, always bringing books—Kasimir's favorite gifts. Often, his older cousin Gard Asheensteel would come too, now twelve years old. Gard told tales of Kasimir's father, Barius Asheensteel, calling him the Calamity of the Continent.
Kasimir wasn't sure which parts were exaggerated and which were truth.
After all, he had never once left the estate.
The grounds were vast—thousands of square feet—but the world outside? That was still a dream. A mystery. A promise.
"I want to go out," he murmured once, staring at the horizon through his window.
⸻
Thanks to Barsan's books, he already knew quite a bit about the world: the Aven Kingdom, where he lived, was a vassal of the Anamea Empire, located ten days from the imperial capital.
Empires ruled above all—each overseeing multiple kingdoms. Kingdoms ruled smaller states, and the independent territories? Those were ruled through sheer might, often feared or shunned by the rest of the civilized world.
But true power didn't rest with crowns. It rested with the great families—those who could build Contract Altars and form pacts with entities from beyond.
Most Contract Bearers came from noble houses. The rest were exceptional individuals, forged in trials and blessed by fate.
⸻
"Young master, your uncle will visit you today."
The maid's words snapped Kasimir out of his thoughts.
His face lit up. He straightened as she began dressing him in fine noble attire.
And then, it happened—
An explosion of aura surged from the mansion's main hall.
The estate shook.
The maid simply smiled. "Young master… your uncle is here."
⸻
As they descended the staircase, Barsan's four knights stood like statues. Towering over seven feet tall, each radiated a unique pressure. Two flanked the entrance to the main hall, where Barsan stood tall, arms folded behind his back.
"Kasimir," Barsan said, voice like thunder, "do you know why I'm standing, and not sitting?"
Kasimir blinked… then answered.
"Because I am my deceased father's only son. And he was your older brother. So you stand in his place, to show your respect to the one who came before you."
Barsan's eyes glinted with approval.
The last time Barsan visited, he gave Kasimir a book titled [The Asheensteels]. It explained their customs, their unity, and the law that bound every member of the bloodline:
"An Asheensteel does not betray an Asheensteel. We do not break, We do not betray."
It didn't matter if the person was a distant cousin—the name itself carried weight. The family followed their own language, code of respect, and traditions passed down since the age of flames.
"When a younger Asheensteel enters a room with an elder, they must greet them first in the ancestral tongue."
Kasimir straightened his posture and declared,
"Vey Ardentem."
Barsan's stern face broke into a warm smile.
"Vey Ardentem. Kasimir, how have you been?"
He stepped forward and held out his arms.
Kasimir smirked slightly.
'Today I will ask him…'
…
To be continued.