The training ground was empty in the early morning light, exactly how I preferred it. The sun hadn't fully risen yet, casting everything in that peculiar gray-blue that made the world feel suspended between night and day.
I stood in the center of the practice arena, spear in hand, facing an older guild member who'd agreed to spar with me. He was B-rank, experienced, and right now looking at me with the kind of wariness that suggested he wasn't taking me lightly.
Good. I'd worked hard to earn that wariness.
"Ready, Young Master?" he asked, his slender blade—almost katana-like in design—held in a ready stance.
Instead of answering, I launched forward.
"Raging Fire Spear Art, Second Form: Whirlwind Dive!"
My spear became a spiral of flame as I drove toward him, the technique combining rotational momentum with fire manipulation. He barely managed to deflect, his eyes widening as the heat washed over him.
I didn't give him time to recover. Another strike, then another, each one forcing him back, testing his defense. The spear felt like an extension of my body now—months of obsessive training had transformed clumsy movements into fluid combinations.
My opponent tried to counter, his blade flashing toward my guard, but I'd already predicted it. Reader's Eye activated unconsciously, showing me the trajectory before he completed the motion. I pivoted, letting his strike pass harmlessly, and drove my spear toward his center.
He yielded, stepping back with his hands raised. "I surrender, Young Master. That last technique would have seriously injured me."
I lowered my spear, breathing hard but satisfied. He was right—the flames coating my weapon had been intense enough to leave severe burns if they'd connected.
"Thank you for the practice," I said formally, and he bowed before leaving to tend to his minor burns.
The moment he was gone, the system chimed:
[Ding!]
[Spear Mastery +7]
[Spear Mastery Upgrading...]
[Mastery of Spear: Master Level Achieved]
[Ding!]
[Task: Become Famous Throughout the World - COMPLETED]
[Rewarding Host with Skill: Aura Breathing]
I took a moment to absorb the new skill, feeling pathways open in my body that would allow aura to circulate and strengthen me continuously. Combined with my Dual Energy User talent, this would accelerate my growth significantly.
"Status," I commanded quietly.
[Status
Host Name: Riyan Cris Descartes
Charm: SS+
Strength: B+
Speed: B+
Endurance: A-
Mana: B-
Aura: C+
Current Rank: B-
Talents:
S+ Rank Child of the Mana
Unique Rank Dual Energy User
A+ Rank Photographic Memory
S+ Rank Adaptation
S Rank Child of the Music
SS Rank Spear Saint
Unique Rank Reader's Eye
Affinity:
S+ Rank Fire
SS+ Rank Darkness
Curse: Destiny's Curse and Curse of the Villain
Age: 18 years
Race: Half Asura and Human
Titles: Prince of Qara City, Asura Prince, Young Master of Descartes Family, Young Master of Mairis Family, Continental Model, Dream Boy, Talented Inspiring Hunter, Philanthropist, The Annihilator
Inventory: None
Weapon Mastery: Spear (Master)
Skills:
Raging Fire Spear Art (★★★★)
Lara Spear Art (★★)
Aura Breathing (★)
Identity: A Brainless Dog Licking Villain of the Novel "Saint's Odyssey"
Remark: A Narcissist Villain Who Actually Earned It]
I couldn't help but smirk at the remark. The system had a sense of humor, at least.
B-rank at eighteen was exceptional. Not unprecedented—genius-level talents could hit A-rank by this age—but definitely impressive. More importantly, my weapon mastery had reached Master level, putting me ahead of most Academy applicants.
"Yan!"
Livia's voice pulled me from my thoughts. She was jogging toward me across the training ground, bow slung across her back, her expression bright with morning energy.
I checked her status out of habit:
[Status
Name: Livia Descartes
Charm: A+
Strength: C-
Speed: C+
Endurance: D+
Aura: C+
Current Rank: C+
Talents: S Rank Archer
Affinity: S Rank Ice
Weapon Mastery: Bow (Expert)
Skills:
Aura Arrows (★★★★)
Essence Arrows (★★)
Age: 18 years
Traits: Brother Complex, Yandere, Ruthless
Race: Half Asura and Human
Relation With Host: Twin Sister
Titles: Ruthless Princess, Youngest of Descartes Family, Miss of the Mairis Family
Obsession: Riyan Descartes
Favorability: Deep Obsession
Identity: Villain in the Novel "Saint's Odyssey"
Remark: Sees Host as Her Idol]
C+ rank was respectable, especially for an archer who relied more on precision and technique than raw power. Livia had been training just as hard as I had, determined not to fall behind.
"Ready for our session?" she asked, already reaching for her bow.
Before I could answer, a cold voice cut through the morning air:
"Hey, coward. Always hanging around with girls."
I turned to find Syra standing at the edge of the training ground, her expression carrying that familiar mix of hostility and disdain. She wore practical training clothes, her greenish-white hair pulled back, and her eyes locked on me with an intensity that made Livia tense beside me.
For three years, I'd ignored these provocations. The original Riyan had endured her resentment silently, perhaps out of guilt, perhaps out of misplaced affection. But I wasn't him. And with only two months until the Academy entrance exam, I needed to resolve this situation.
It was time to employ what I'd mentally labeled the "Over-Guilt Strategy."
"Sister," I said, my voice carrying a coldness that made Syra's eyes narrow. "Why do you always behave like this?"
"What?" She looked genuinely surprised that I'd responded.
"Your behavior toward me. Why do you do it?" I let my voice rise, ensuring nearby servants could hear. This needed witnesses.
"Why, you say?" Her surprise shifted to sarcasm, edges sharpening. "Because you're the reason Father isn't ALIVE!"
The accusation hung in the air like a blade. Her voice had risen to a shout, and I could sense servants and guild members stopping their work, attention drawn by the commotion. Livia clutched my arm, her body rigid with tension.
Perfect.
"So I'm to blame for Father's death?" I let my voice crack, injecting genuine emotion into the words—or at least, emotion that sounded genuine.
"Yes! You're responsible for what happened that day!" Syra's hostility was palpable, years of resentment pouring out.
"Then what could you have done if you were in my place?" I asked quietly, and watched her freeze.
"I—I—" She stuttered, and I knew I'd hit the mark.
"You couldn't have done anything at all," I continued, my voice going cold. "Just like me, you would have hidden behind Mother's back, watching Father sacrifice himself to protect you."
Her eyes were getting moist. Good.
"And you expect a ten-year-old child, who couldn't even fully understand what was happening, to do something?" I infused mana into my voice, making it carry across the training ground. Making sure everyone heard. "A child with no training, no power, no ability to change anything?"
"I—I'm sorry—" Syra's voice cracked.
But I wasn't done. I let tears build in my own eyes—easy enough when channeling the original Riyan's genuine anguish. "Then why have you been blaming me? Why have you made every single day a reminder that you hate me for something I couldn't control?"
Syra broke completely, tears streaming down her face. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, Riyan, please forgive me—"
[Ding!]
[Syra is feeling intense guilt toward Host]
[Syra's Favorability increasing...]
[Syra's Favorability increasing...]
[Syra's Favorability increasing...]
[Current Favorability: Love]
I blinked at that notification. From Hostile to Love in one conversation? That seemed... excessive.
"System, explain this favorability jump," I demanded mentally.
[Ding!]
[Previous Riyan was the primary reason Syra was adopted into the Descartes Family. The name "Syra" was given by Riyan after learning she had no name. Syra developed deep romantic feelings for Riyan during childhood. These feelings transformed into hatred after Cris Descartes's death, as she blamed Riyan to cope with grief. She considered Cris a father figure and idol. However, the love never truly disappeared—it was merely buried under resentment. By forcing her to confront the irrationality of her blame, you've shattered the defensive mechanism and allowed the original feelings to resurface.]
I stared at Syra's crying face, processing this new information. The original Riyan had named her. Had been the catalyst for her adoption. Had been, essentially, her savior.
And she'd been in love with him the entire time, even while hating him.
This was more complicated than I'd anticipated.
"Syra," I said more gently, wiping my own tears away. "I don't hate you. I never have. But I can't keep carrying the weight of blame for something neither of us could prevent."
She nodded frantically, unable to form words through her sobbing.
Livia looked between us with an expression I couldn't quite read—relief mixed with something darker. Her grip on my arm tightened possessively.
I'd accomplished what I needed: Syra's hostility was gone, replaced with guilt and revived affection. But I'd also just added another complication to an already complex situation.
One problem solved. Several new ones created.
Story of my life—both of them.