The walk to the citadel was a masterclass in silent awe. A sea of stunned townspeople parted before them, their faces a gallery of disbelief. Kael strode calmly between the two ramrod-straight baronial guards, but it was the third member of their party that warped the world around them.
The Crimson-Clawed Ravager, a beast that had been slaughtering its way through the town square moments ago, now trotted placidly behind Kael like an oversized, six-eyed puppy. Its claws, each capable of gutting a warhorse, clicked harmlessly on the cobblestones. Its tidligere murderous aura was gone, replaced by an air of dumb, simple contentment.
Whispers followed them, no longer of scorn, but of fearful reverence.
"Is that... the monster from the Dungeon Break?"
"By the gods, it's following the orphan!"
"What did he do? Did you see what he did in the chamber?"
"He just... looked at it. And it stopped."
"He didn't get a Skill... he got something else."
Kael heard it all. The words were a balm on the raw wounds of a lifetime of mockery. He felt a nascent power not just in his mysterious ability, but in the gazes of others. Fear, he was quickly learning, was a currency just as valuable as gold.
He subtly activated his new vision, and the world flickered into code. He focused on the guard to his right.
=== ENTITY: Guard Captain Alaric ===
CLASS: Knight, D-Rank
LEVEL: 34
SKILL: [Shield Bash, Lv. 7]
STATUS: Wary, Intimidated, Confused
-------------------------------------
THOUGHTS: 'Baron's orders are absolute, but what in the seven hells IS this kid? To tame a C-Rank... not even the Duchess Lyra could do that so easily...'
================================
Kael's eyes widened slightly. Duchess Lyra? He filed the name away. More interesting was the [Thoughts] tag. He could read surface thoughts. The potential applications of that alone were staggering.
They reached the citadel, a grim fortress of grey stone and iron banners bearing the snarling lion of House Thorne. The air here was colder, heavier with the weight of undisputed authority. Kael was escorted not to a dungeon, but directly to the Baron's audience chamber.
The room was imposing, designed to make visitors feel small. A long, red carpet stretched towards a heavy, carved-stone throne. Standing beside it, practically vibrating with indignant rage, was Valerius. Cowering near the wall, looking like he'd aged twenty years, was Assessor Magnus.
"Father, I'm telling you! It was dark magic!" Valerius shouted the moment they entered. "He used some forbidden artifact to enslave the beast! He's a heretic! He spat on the honor of our house by making me look like a fool!"
The Ravager, upon hearing the raised voice directed at its new master, let out a low, guttural growl. The sound vibrated through the stone floor, and Valerius immediately fell silent, his face paling.
"Enough, Valerius," a voice like grinding stones commanded from the throne.
Baron Tiberius Thorne was a man built on the same scale as his fortress. He was well past his prime, but his broad shoulders still filled the throne, and his gray-streaked hair and beard did little to soften a face that looked like it was hewn from granite. His eyes, the same icy blue as his son's, held a dangerous intelligence. His presence was an S-Rank threat all on its own. Kael's senses screamed that this man was powerful. He focused his vision.
=== ENTITY: Baron Tiberius Thorne ===
CLASS: Sword Lord, S-Rank
LEVEL: 87
SKILL: [Lion's Roar, Lv. Max], [Aura of Command, Lv. Max], [Heirloom Attunement]
...and 14 more.
================================
This was a true powerhouse. A man who could likely level the entire town with a single skill.
The Baron's gaze fell on Kael, and it was like being weighed and measured by a butcher. It then shifted to the Ravager sitting docilely at Kael's heels.
"The reports from the chamber are... confusing," the Baron stated, his voice a low rumble. "They say you awakened no skill. Yet, you subdued a C-Rank monster with a look. Explain yourself, boy."
Kael met the Baron's gaze, his heart steady. The fear was gone, replaced by a cold, thrilling curiosity. "There is nothing to explain, my Lord. The creature attacked, and then it decided it liked me more than it liked fighting."
The sheer, infuriating simplicity of the lie made Valerius gasp. "He's mocking you, Father!"
"Be silent," the Baron snapped, not taking his eyes off Kael. His gaze narrowed. "You expect me to believe a Ravager, a beast of pure chaotic instinct, simply had a change of heart? That it chose a Skill-less orphan over its own nature?"
"Perhaps its nature isn't what we assumed," Kael replied smoothly.
The Baron smiled, a grim, humorless thing. "A philosopher, then. Let us test this philosophy. At my hip is Lion's Fang," he said, patting the ornate longsword sheathed at his side. "It is the ancestral blade of my house, passed down for three hundred years. It is bound to the Thorne bloodline by name and by magic. It would sooner turn to dust than be wielded by an outsider."
He drew the blade. A powerful, golden aura flared to life, filling the room with an oppressive heat and pressure. The sword hummed with contained energy, a true treasure of the kingdom.
Kael's vision instantly supplied the data.
=== ITEM: Lion's Fang (Ancestral Sword) ===
GRADE: Legendary
PROPERTIES: [Sharpness+], [Unbreaking], [Aura of the Lion], [Thorne Bloodline Attunement]
OWNER: House Thorne (Current Wielder: Tiberius Thorne)
================================
"This sword knows its master," the Baron declared, his voice booming with power, amplified by his [Aura of Command]. "It knows the weight of my name. Tell me, boy, does your name hold any weight at all?"
It was a test. A trap. He was daring Kael to try and influence the blade, expecting him to fail and expose his limits.
Valerius smirked, sensing Kael's impending humiliation. Assessor Magnus watched, his face slick with sweat, understanding the gravity of challenging an Ancestral Artifact.
Kael did not answer with words. He simply looked at the sword. At the code.
It was more complex than the monster's, layered with centuries of enchantments and history. But at its core, the logic was the same. A variable. A value.
He focused on a single line.
OWNER: House Thorne (Current Wielder: Tiberius Thorne)
Breaking the sword would be a show of force. Anyone with enough raw power could do that. But Kael wasn't interested in force. He was interested in control.
With a surge of will, he rewrote the line.
OWNER: Kael Virein
In the real world, the change was both subtle and cataclysmic.
The brilliant, golden aura of the [Aura of the Lion] surrounding the blade flickered. It sputtered, turned a confused orange, then a neutral white... and then it began to shift, twisting and reforming. A faint, ethereal blue-green, the color of Kael's own nascent power, bled into it, overwriting the gold completely. The oppressive, kingly pressure vanished, replaced by something quiet, deep, and terrifyingly absolute.
The hum of the sword changed its pitch, becoming higher, more eager.
Baron Thorne froze. His knuckles were white where he gripped the hilt. He could feel it. The connection, the bond he had shared with the blade his entire life, the link his father and his father's father had forged... was gone. The sword in his hand felt like a cold, dead piece of metal. It was a stranger to him.
"What... what did you do?" the Baron whispered, his voice losing its booming authority for the first time.
Kael held out his hand, palm up. "You asked if my name has weight," he said, his voice calm and clear in the silent room. "Why don't you ask the sword?"
And then, the impossible happened.
Lion's Fang, the ancestral soul of House Thorne, trembled in the Baron's grip, straining to free itself. With a final, decisive jerk, it ripped itself from the S-Rank Sword Lord's grasp, flew across the ten feet of space between them in a graceful arc of blue-green light, and settled perfectly into Kael's waiting hand.
It hummed, a soft, contented purr of a weapon that had finally come home.
The silence that followed was a vacuum.
Valerius's face was a mask of utter, slack-jawed horror. His pride, his name, his entire identity was tied to his lineage, and he had just watched a Skill-less orphan steal the very soul of that lineage with a gesture.
Assessor Magnus made a small, choking sound and collapsed against the wall, sliding to the floor in a dead faint. The heresy was too much.
Baron Thorne stared at his empty hand, then at the boy holding his family's sword. The anger was gone. The pride was gone. All that remained in his eyes was a cold, deep, and profound fear. This wasn't a boy with a trick. This wasn't a demon with dark magic. This was something new. Something that could not only break the rules, but rewrite them. Something that could steal not just your life, but your history, your very name.
He finally understood. Kael wasn't a threat to his power. He was a threat to the very concept of power itself.
The Baron's mind raced, processing a thousand possibilities, discarding each one. He couldn't kill him. He couldn't imprison him. He couldn't let him go. An anomaly this potent could not be an enemy. It had to be an asset.
Slowly, deliberately, Baron Thorne lowered himself back onto his throne. He took a deep, shuddering breath, his decision made.
"You have... proven your point," the Baron said, his voice strained. He looked at Kael, not as a boy, but as one would look at a caged god. "You will not be punished for this display. On the contrary. You will be rewarded."
He raised his voice, once again the powerful Lord of the Citadel. "From this day forward, Kael Virein is a ward of House Thorne. He will be granted status, resources, and a full scholarship to the Royal Magic Academy in the capital, under my direct patronage. He will bring glory to my house."
He leaned forward, his eyes locking with Kael's, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper only Kael could hear. "You will be watched, boy. Every moment. Every breath. You will become our greatest weapon... whether you wish to be or not."