Choosen by Goddess Hela, I became the Silent Death.

Ash and his companions stepped beyond the gates of the Rivenhart estate, leaving behind the poisoned splendour of his old life. Ahead lay the roads of Eldhaven, and his first destination—Ironholt, the fortress-town where the Order of Knights tested all who dared to swear the Oath of Steel.

"Lord Ash, before you can join the Order, you must pass an examination to prove your worth," Lance explained, his voice carrying an excited edge. "Until then, you can stay at a nearby inn."

Ash smiled and nodded. The road to Ironholt was long and uneven, each jolt of the carriage a reminder that this was only the beginning.

When they finally arrived, Ironholt towered before them—massive walls of grey stone, banners snapping in the wind. This fortress was the gateway to the Kingdom of Eldhaven. For generations, the Rivenharts had protected this border, charged with neutralising any threat that dared approach the kingdom's heartland. And here, in these storied walls, knights were forged to withstand the charge of a hundred men.

Sir Lance went ahead to arrange their lodging. The innkeeper, an old friend and former comrade, welcomed them warmly and offered a generous discount. Marianna and Licia shared a room, while Ash settled into another with Lance.

After a short rest, Ash stepped outside to take in the air of Ironholt. The afternoon sun gleamed against the ramparts as Lance joined him, guiding him straight to the registry where new aspirants declared their names.

As they walked, Lance spoke of the Order's structure. Within the Knights' ranks were four great factions, each with its creed and trials:

The Order of the Light

Focused on honour, the protection of the innocent, and the upholding of ancient oaths. Its knights were revered for their radiant auras and their close ties to the Lightbringer lineage. Their symbol was a silver sunburst behind a white shield.

The Order of the Veil

Masters of espionage and assassination, sworn to eliminate threats that lurked in the shadows and to uncover forbidden knowledge. Their symbol: a black crescent moon over a hidden dagger.

The Order of the Wyrm

Devoted to achieving dominance through sheer strength and the legacy of draconic power. These knights bonded with wyverns, mastering siege warfare and flame sorcery. Their symbol was a coiled dragon clutching a sword.

The Order of the Aegis

Renowned for defensive warfare, strategic command, and the safeguarding of the realm's most vital strongholds. They were masters of barrier magic and martial formations. Their symbol was a golden tower encircled by a laurel wreath.

Ash felt a strange mix of excitement and nerves twisting in his chest as he stepped into the Registry.

The interior was loud, crowded, and smelled like sweat, leather, and stale beer. Muscular men laughed boisterously in corners, swords clanked against armour, and someone was already arm-wrestling on a nearby bench.

It feels more like an adventurers' guild than a knight registry, he thought.

Pushing past the noise, he made his way to the front desk, where a young woman greeted him with a bright smile.

"Hello! My name's Emily—I'm the receptionist and in charge of registrations," she said, her voice cheerful but practised. "Are you here to register, mister? Or are you here to file a complaint? Because if it's the latter, please head to the back of the room."

Ash chuckled. "No complaints, young lady. I'm here to register. Could you explain the procedure?"

Emily looked up—then froze.

For a second, she simply stared at him, blinking. Ash tilted his head slightly, confused by her sudden silence.

He waved a hand gently in front of her face. "Um... are you alright, young lady?"

Emily blinked rapidly, realising she'd been caught staring. Her cheeks flushed red.

"S-Sorry! You just... caught me off guard," she said quickly, flustered but smiling again. "Right! Registration. Of course. Let me walk you through the process."

"Name, age, and affinities, please," Emily asked, her voice still a bit dreamy as she tried to maintain professionalism.

Ash gave a polite smile and shook his head lightly. "Name: Ash. Age: 18. Affinities: Wind and Light."

The moment the last word left his lips, the atmosphere in the room shifted. Conversations stopped. Tankards paused midair.

Dozens of eyes turned toward him.

From the back, a man with a broad chest and arms like tree trunks stepped forward, towering over Ash. He wore heavy steel armor etched with the symbol of a coiled dragon—the mark of the Order of the Wyrm.

"This isn't a place for pretty boys playing knight," he growled, his voice like gravel. "I suggest you drop the act and leave while you still can. And lying to the Knight's Order? That's a punishable offense."

All around the room, other applicants stood up, many of them armored, each bearing a different faction's insignia—sunbursts, daggers, towers, dragons. The tension was sharp.

Ash laughed softly."Lying? Who said I was lying?" He tilted his head, smiling. "And is being pretty a crime now? If so, you'd better arrest me."

He winked up at the towering man.

The man's lip curled. With a scoff, he stepped back and drew his sword in a single fluid motion, steel ringing in the tense air."Last warning, boy."

Ash leaned casually against the reception desk, utterly unbothered.

Emily's face had gone pale. Her hands wrung the edge of the counter."Please…you said your name was Ash, right? I suggest you leave. That man isn't an ordinary candidate—he's slain more enemies than I can count. He could break this building in two if he wanted." Her voice cracked. "Please—just go."

Ash's smile faded.

He stepped forward, each step heavier than the last, until the air itself seemed to press in around them. He turned and nodded once to Sir Lance."Your sword," he said quietly.

Sir Lance wordlessly placed the hilt in his hand.

Ash raised the blade and took his stance. Silence swallowed the room.

From somewhere in the crowd, a voice whispered in disbelief,"...That's the Lightbringer sword style…"

The armored man threw back his head and barked a laugh."Hmph. Bluffs don't work on me, boy."

Ash didn't reply. He simply drew in a breath, focus crystallizing in his gaze. A sudden surge of energy rolled out from him, like a heartbeat of pure force.

He exhaled and spoke in a low voice only the closest men could hear."Lightbringer Form Nine—Lightpiercer Fang."

He stepped back, then drove the sword upward in a single, impossibly fast arc.

For a moment, it seemed nothing had happened—just the faint line of a cut grazing the man's armored arm.

Then the world split open.

The shockwave exploded through the room, tearing a gaping rift across the wall and up through the ceiling. Sunlight poured in as half the building groaned and collapsed in on itself.

Ash lowered the blade, his breathing calm.

He turned, handed the sword back to Sir Lance, and walked back to the stunned receptionist.

"Still won't register me, young lady?" he asked, his voice polite.