A heavy knock echoed through the wooden door leading into a small chamber.
Inside, a young boy lay fast asleep on a single bed, his pale blonde hair nearly the same colour as the white bedsheets. His chest rose and fell in a gentle, steady rhythm, lost in the depths of slumber.
Then—another knock. Louder this time. Followed by a couple more. Persistent and impatient.
Ares' eyes fluttered open.
"W—What?" Still groggy, he pushed himself upright, blinking away sleepiness as he tried to make sense of the noise.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his small feet hovering just above the floor before softly landing on the cool wood below.
Just as he reached for the door handle, it burst open.
An old man with a long gray beard and an equally long mane of silver hair stood in the doorway, casting a looming shadow across the room. His face was stern, eyes sharp with scrutiny.
"Grandpa?" Ares asked, recognizing the familiar, if slightly terrifying, face.
"Quiet, boy!" the old man barked.
"What time were you supposed to be on the hill? Do you think you can slack off just because you advanced to the middle stage?!"
Ares stared, still half-asleep, trying to process the sudden assault.
"But Grandpa... it's Sunday."
The old man's eyes twitched ever so slightly, betraying the briefest flicker of surprise.
"Sunday... Yes, of course it's Sunday. Who said we can't train on Sundays?"
"You did," Ares thought, narrowing his eyes in disbelief.
Despite his gruff exterior and questionable memory, Ares liked his grandfather. With his father away on a guild mission, the old man had taken it upon himself to train him for the past three years. And, to be fair, it was under his guidance that Ares had advanced his rank—a feat not many kids his age could boast about.
Most children were just beginning to learn the basics of mana manipulation. Ares, however, had thrown himself into this world with relentless curiosity, devouring every book in their small house and training until his body ached. His hunger for knowledge far outweighed his desire for rest.
"Come, boy. We haven't got all day. Your grandfather is a very busy man," the old man declared, nose in the air like he wasn't a retired old man.
Suppressing a laugh, Ares quickly got dressed.
Soon, the two of them were outside, walking up a nearby hill toward a lone, towering tree that stood like a sentinel at the top.
It had been nearly eight years since his father had first brought him to this hill, showing him the simplest form of mana manipulation.
Although he was a skilled warrior, his father hadn't been much of a teacher—Ares had mostly learned by watching him. Still, he cherished that memory. The feeling of mana flowing through one's body was just as majestic as he had imagined. No matter how many times he did it, each time filled him with the same sense of exhilaration.
Ares sighed deeply, lost in the memories of his early days learning to manipulate mana.
"Eight years..." he murmured, letting the thought hang in the air.
Time had passed quickly—much faster than he had ever anticipated. Immersed in relentless training and constant study, the days often slipped away unnoticed, as if stolen by the very magic he sought to master. He had grown stronger, undeniably so, but a lingering doubt gnawed at him. Was it enough? Had he truly made the progress he should have? Or was he missing something vital, some hidden step in the path to power?
Restless in the silence, Ares dismissed the creeping thoughts. With a single thought, he summoned his Status Window, hoping for clarity—or perhaps just a distraction for his racing mind.
The now-familiar translucent rectangle appeared before his eyes, hovering steadily no matter how he moved his head—its bright blue text glowing softly in the morning light.
*****
Name: [ Ares ]
Race: [ Human ]
Rank: [ Novice II ]
Soul Weapon: [ — ]
Unique Trait: [ Limit Breaker, Rank: SSS ]
Trait Description: [ You can possess more than one Soul Weapon. ]
Unique Ability: [ Soul Thief, Rank: SSS ]
Ability Description: [ You can extract Soul Weapons from fallen foes. ]
Elemental Affinity: [ — ]
*****
His eyes narrowed as he looked at his rank—Novice II.
While proud of how far he'd come in such a short time, the rank failed to satisfy him. He had mastered the basics of mana control, but deep down, he wanted more.
It was only after showing his progress to his grandfather that he'd learned most kids his age hadn't even started manipulating mana. Some were just beginning to feel the flow of it within themselves. And yet, here he was—already past the first stage.
Still, that wasn't his goal.
His sights were set higher.
His grandfather had once told him of the most prestigious academy in the entire Elarion Kingdom—called Lotius Academy. A place where only the most gifted youths were allowed entry. To even be considered as a candidate required reaching the third stage of the Novice Rank. And that was just the bare minimum.
The children of powerful noble houses trained from the moment they could walk, all hoping to attend Lotius. Acceptance wasn't just a mark of talent—it was an elevation of status. Those who passed the entrance exams were considered nobility, regardless of their lineage. They were given free housing, elite training, and access to the most extensive library in all of Elarion.
There were many reasons why Ares wanted to attend it.
But the biggest one?
Knowledge.
Ever since being reborn into this strange and magical world, knowledge had become his obsession. Every spell, every theory, every piece of history—he wanted to understand it all. To uncover the secrets of this world, and the power that lay hidden within it.
Known for its vast library of secrets and knowledge, Lotus Academy was the perfect place to fulfil his thirst for knowledge.
He clenched his fists as the wind swept through the grass, the tree atop the hill swaying gently in the breeze.
One day, he would stand at the gates of that academy—not as a hopeful spectator, but as someone worthy of its highest honours.
But first... more training.