Remanescence of Shadows

Another morning dawned, the golden sunlight streaming through the tall windows of the dining hall. After a modest breakfast, Mara escorted me to the backyard of the mansion. Today marked the beginning of my training, and the air carried the sweet fragrance of blooming flowers, a signature of Floraven, the gentle spring month.

Mara stood in the center of the open space, her tall and elegant figure poised with natural authority. Her blonde hair, tied meticulously into a tight bun, caught the sunlight, lending her an almost ethereal glow. She adjusted her oval glasses with a slender hand as her piercing blue eyes locked onto me. Even with her refined demeanor, the weight of her presence made the air feel heavier.

"Before we begin," she said, her voice calm yet edged with steel, "there's something you must understand." She raised a blunt training dagger, its dull blade gleaming faintly, and tapped it against her palm.

"The Garthram Empire prioritizes strength above all else. Strength isn't just a virtue, it's survival. To be weak is to invite suffering, Castiel. You cannot afford weakness. Not as a Lachius."

Her words hit me like a weight pressing down on my chest. I fidgeted, feeling the unfamiliar heft of the training dagger she handed me. My small fingers struggled to wrap around the hilt properly, the weapon feeling both foreign and slightly intimidating.

"Do you understand?" she pressed, her sharp blue eyes narrowing slightly.

I nodded hesitantly, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. "It means... I have to be strong to survive?"

Mara's lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile, though her expression remained as sharp as her words. "More than that. Strength isn't just muscle or magic. It's knowing how to think, how to adapt, how to endure. It's about controlling the battlefield, no matter how small or large that field may be. The moment you falter, someone stronger will crush you. Never forget that."

Her words carried a gravity that made the dagger in my hand feel heavier. I glanced at her, unsure of what to do next. She stepped closer, crouching slightly to meet my gaze. Her hand brushed against mine as she adjusted my grip on the hilt.

"Hold it like this," she instructed, her tone softening slightly. "You're not gripping a hammer, you're holding a tool. Keep your wrist firm but your fingers light, or you'll tire too quickly. A dagger isn't about brute force. It's about precision. Do you see?"

I nodded again, though my grip still felt awkward. Mara stood and straightened her long dress, the faint breeze teasing at its hem as she gestured to the training dummy nearby.

"Let's start with something simple," she said, motioning for me to approach the straw-stuffed figure. "A dagger isn't a weapon for charging headfirst. It's a weapon for striking when your opponent least expects it. Stay low, stay light, and move like a shadow."

I stepped forward cautiously, trying to mimic the movements she demonstrated. My small feet barely made a sound on the grass, though my balance wavered with each step. By the time I reached the dummy, I felt more like a lumbering animal than a shadow.

"Not bad for a first attempt," Mara said, adjusting her glasses. "But you're still too stiff. A fox doesn't stomp through the forest, it glides. Try again, and this time, loosen your stance."

I took a deep breath and tried again, this time focusing on staying relaxed. My movements felt smoother, and when I reached the dummy, I glanced back at Mara, seeking approval.

She nodded. "Better. Now, strike."

I hesitated, raising the dagger awkwardly before jabbing it toward the dummy. The blade barely sank into the straw, and the impact sent a jolt up my arm.

"Too much force," Mara said, stepping forward to demonstrate. Her movements were fluid, almost graceful, as she delivered a swift, precise thrust to the dummy's neck. The dagger slid in effortlessly, the straw parting as though welcoming the blade.

"Watch," she said, handing the dagger back to me. "It's not about power—it's about control. Precision. Efficiency. If you're clumsy or waste your energy, you'll lose before the fight even begins. Now, try again."

I nodded, swallowing my frustration as I adjusted my grip. This time, I focused on the target, aiming carefully before thrusting the dagger forward. The blade sank deeper, and though it wasn't as smooth as Mara's strike, it was enough to elicit a faint smile from her.

"Good," she said, placing a hand lightly on my shoulder. "You're learning, young master. Slowly, but you're learning. Remember this, strength isn't just physical. It's your will to overcome. Your ability to think ahead. Your refusal to give up, no matter how dire the situation."

Her words settled over me as we continued the lesson, each movement reinforcing the harsh truths of the Garthram Empire. Strength wasn't just about power, it was about mastery, adaptability, and the determination to rise above all else.

The sun hung high in the sky, casting its golden warmth over the sprawling estate, but all I could feel was the oppressive weight of exhaustion. My arms trembled, my breath came in ragged gasps, and sweat clung to my skin like a second layer. Every muscle in my small body burned from the relentless repetition of swinging the dagger, my strikes becoming sloppier with each passing moment.

Mara, standing tall and composed despite the heat, observed me with her sharp blue eyes hidden behind her oval glasses. She adjusted them slightly before speaking, her voice carrying no sympathy for my fatigue.

"Time for magic training now."

I blinked at her, barely comprehending her words through the fog of exhaustion.

"What?" My voice cracked in disbelief. Was she serious? Had I not just been pushed to my physical limit? "Mara, I'm too tired…"

Without waiting for her response, I collapsed onto the grass, its cool blades a welcomed relief against my overheated skin. The gentle breeze of Floraven whispered across the yard, but even that wasn't enough to soothe the aching in my limbs.

Mara, unimpressed by my weakness, clicked her tongue in displeasure. "Lina!"

At her call, the double doors of the mansion swung open, and Lina strode out, her drill-shaped pigtails bouncing with every lively step. Her usual cheerful smile was plastered across her face, contrasting sharply with Mara's ever-composed demeanor.

"Right, right! My time to shine!" Lina beamed, practically radiating excitement.

Mara, in contrast, let out a small sigh, clearly unimpressed by her sister's enthusiasm.

Still lying on the grass, I peered up at the two maids, my mind struggling to catch up. "Wait… why is Lina here? I thought the training was with you, Mara."

Mara adjusted her glasses and crossed her arms. "I am an expert in combat. But magic requires a different kind of mastery—one that Lina possesses."

At that, she turned on her heel and walked back toward the mansion without another word, leaving me alone with Lina in the training yard.

"Young master, let's start with the basics of mana flow," Lina said as she knelt beside me, her tone unusually focused. She reached for my left hand, where the Mana Crest symbol was etched into my skin.

Her warm fingers brushed against mine as she inspected it. "It seems to have stabilized…" she murmured to herself.

"Stabilized?" I echoed, lifting my hand to examine the Ouroboros symbol. Once, it had pulsed with a deep red glow, but now its aura had dulled to a muted purple.

Lina nodded, her eyes soft with understanding. "Try focusing your mana. Close your eyes and imagine lines of energy flowing through your body, directing them to your left hand."

I hesitated but did as she instructed, shutting my eyes and picturing an intricate web of glowing pathways spreading beneath my skin. Slowly, I guided the unseen energy toward my palm.

A sudden gasp escaped Lina. "Ah! It worked!"

But just as I opened my eyes to confirm her words, an overwhelming sensation surged through me. My vision blurred, my mind drowning in a tidal wave of thousands—no, millions—of words, each whispering, shouting, echoing in incomprehensible tongues. My breath hitched, and I recoiled, gasping for air.

"W-What was that?!" My voice trembled as I clutched my head, a dull ache forming between my temples.

Lina tilted her head, puzzled by my reaction. "What happened, young master?"

"I saw… words. So many words in my head."

Lina's expression shifted to one of realization. "Oh, that's normal! Master Lucian mentioned this before, when you activate the Mana Crest, your mind gets flooded with all the spells stored within. If you don't have a specific spell in mind, you get overwhelmed by the sheer volume of options."

I blinked, still trying to process the experience. "That… would've been nice to know beforehand."

Lina chuckled sheepishly. "Oops! My bad."

She cleared her throat and composed herself. "Let's try something simpler. Do you remember the spell your father showed you in his office? Lumius?"

"Yeah… I can try."

Closing my eyes again, I took a deep breath and steadied myself. This time, instead of letting the flood of words take over, I focused on just one—Lumius. The moment it echoed in my mind, warmth spread through my palm, and when I opened my eyes, a soft sphere of golden light floated just above my hand.

Lina's face lit up. "Congratulations! That was perfect!"

I gazed at the glowing orb, feeling a small swell of pride. Magic felt… natural.

Lina tapped her chin thoughtfully. "You know, young master, you might have more talent in magic than in hand-to-hand combat. Perhaps you're destined to be a great mage instead."

I wasn't sure how to feel about that. My father had just started my combat training, and the Garthram Empire valued strength above all. Would magic be considered strength?

Lina continued, gently tracing a finger down my arm, mimicking the invisible flow of mana. "Now, try controlling the mana flow. Reduce the energy you're channeling into the spell."

I concentrated, drawing back some of the energy, and immediately, the light dimmed.

"See?" Lina said with a proud smile. "Depending on how much mana you use, a spell can serve different purposes. Lumius can be just a simple light to guide you in the dark… or if you pour more mana into it, it can blind an enemy in battle."

My eyes widened slightly. Magic wasn't just about casting spells, it was about control.

"To show you what I mean," Lina continued, stepping back, "I'll demonstrate."

Raising her arms, she summoned a bow of glowing cyan energy in her right hand. With practiced ease, she pulled back on an invisible string, and in a blink, a line of mana formed—an arrow made of pure energy.

With a swift release, the arrow shot forward, striking one of the training dummies Mara had set up earlier. A small hole formed in its chest, the straw smoldering slightly from the impact.

I stared, impressed. "That was incredible."

Lina smirked. "That? That was with minimal mana flow."

Without breaking eye contact, she adjusted her stance, drawing mana into the bow. This time, the weapon expanded slightly, its glow intensifying. She loosed another shot.

The second arrow hit its mark, but instead of a small hole, the dummy exploded into fragments of straw, torn apart by the sheer force of the impact.

"Whoa!" I jumped back in shock, eyes wide. "That was insane!"

Lina turned to me with a triumphant grin. "See? Magic isn't just about knowing spells—it's about understanding how to use them."

For a moment, I could only stare, awed by the difference in power. She usually carried herself with such a carefree, bubbly personality that I had completely underestimated just how strong she really was.

"That was incredible, Lina. You're amazing!" I found myself grinning, my exhaustion momentarily forgotten.

Lina giggled, her face flushing slightly at my praise. "Teehee… Well, thanks! But it's really nothing special."

I wasn't so sure about that.

For the first time since training began, excitement stirred within me. Maybe I wasn't as weak as I thought.

The sun had begun its slow descent, painting the sky in hues of amber and violet as the afternoon bled into evening. After several more lessons on mana control—each one leaving my mind more fatigued than my body—I found myself facing another trial, dinner with the Dundragon family. A formal gathering where my father, Lucian, had been invited by none other than Gurstag Dundragon himself.

Mara led me toward the front of the mansion, where our carriage awaited. It was a regal yet practical vehicle, its polished mahogany wood gleaming under the fading sunlight. Emblazoned on its doors was the Lachius family crest—the ever-present ouroboros, a mirrored reflection of the one branded onto the back of my hand.

The two chestnut mares harnessed to the carriage stomped their hooves against the cobblestone driveway, their long black manes flowing like silk with every impatient toss of their heads. Wisps of their breath curled into the cool evening air.

As I approached, a thought struck me—I hadn't actually seen this carriage before. Tilting my head, I turned to Mara.

"When did we get this?"

Mara, ever composed, adjusted her glasses with a faint smirk, as if expecting the question. "The Lachius family has always had a carriage, young master. It is stored in the stables when not in use. We do not parade it around unnecessarily—it is a symbol of dignity, not extravagance."

Her tone, though light, carried the weight of pride—the kind that came from upholding tradition. I nodded slowly, realizing once again how little I understood about the inner workings of the household I had been born into.

Dressed in formal attire suitable for the occasion, Lucian, Grilda, and I climbed into the carriage, where Mara took the reins.

The journey was long, and though I had grown accustomed to the swaying of the carriage, it was far from the smooth highways of my past life. The rhythmic clatter of hooves against the dirt road became a lullaby of sorts, allowing me to drift in and out of thought.

When we finally arrived, the Dundragon residence stood before us—a modest two-story townhouse. While not as imposing as the Lachius mansion, it was still a far cry from the simple homes that lined the capital of Eryndor.

Carved into the aldrava—the heavy iron door-knocker—was the Dundragon family crest, an engraved dragon, frozen in an eternal snarl. The emblem suited their reputation. Before arriving, I had asked Lina about them.

She had explained that the Dundragons were not nobles in the traditional sense but had served the crown for generations with unwavering loyalty. A family of warriors and knights, ever ready to defend the empire's interests.

In other words, they were like those corporate lackeys back in my old life—the ones who groveled at the boss's feet in hopes of a promotion.

The carriage door swung open, and Lucian was the first to step out, carrying himself with his usual air of arrogance. Grilda and I followed.

The wooden door creaked open, revealing a woman standing in the entryway. She had long chestnut-brown hair, tied neatly at the back, with warm brown eyes that held a quiet professionalism. Her uniform—black and white, pressed to perfection—marked her as a maid, much like Mara.

She bowed gracefully before greeting us.

"Welcome. Mr. Gurstag and Lady Alessa await you."

She stepped aside, allowing us to enter.

The interior of the Dundragon home was simple yet inviting, its wooden floors polished to a subtle shine. The scent of roasted meat and seasoned vegetables hung in the air, blending with the faint earthy aroma of burning wood from the fireplace.

Unlike the grandiosity of the Lachius mansion, where every corridor was designed to impress, this home felt lived in—modest, warm, and functional. The living area and kitchen were divided only by a sturdy wooden counter, making the space feel more open and intimate.

At the dining table sat two figures.

Gurstag Dundragon, now without his usual armor, appeared far less intimidating. The absence of steel revealed a man with broad shoulders and a weathered yet kind expression. His deep, hearty laugh filled the room as he greeted us.

Beside him sat Alessa Dundragon, a woman of gentle elegance. Her long, golden-blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her eyes, the color of the clearest sky, softened as she smiled. There was a quiet grace about her, a stark contrast to her husband's boisterous presence.

"Lucian! Good to see you. It's been a while, hasn't it?" Gurstag's voice carried with ease as he gestured for us to take our seats.

Lucian, ever the politician, returned a well-practiced smile. "Of course. I trust you've been well?"

After the necessary pleasantries, Alessa called out toward the staircase.

"Children! Come and introduce yourselves. The Lachius family is already here."

The rhythmic thudding of footsteps echoed above us before two figures descended the stairs—a boy and a girl.

The girl stepped forward first, her expression composed but polite.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Lisa Dundragon, the eldest daughter of the Dundragon family."

She bore the fiery red hair of her father but had inherited her mother's striking blue eyes. She wore a simple navy-blue dress—nothing extravagant, but elegant in its own right.

Behind her, a shy boy followed hesitantly.

His short blonde hair, reminiscent of his mother's, fell in soft locks over his forehead. Beneath his left eye, a small mole added to his delicate features. He looked to be around my age.

He swallowed nervously before speaking.

"N-Nice to meet you… I'm Arthur Dundragon." His voice was barely above a whisper, his words stiff and uncertain. He attempted a bow, though it was awkward and hesitant.

I watched him carefully. So this was the famed heir of the Dundragon family? He seemed… nothing like the warriors his bloodline was known for.

With introductions complete, we settled at the table, the air thick with the aromas of the meal before us.

The feast, while humble compared to the elaborate spreads I was used to in the mansion, was plentiful—a large roast boar, surrounded by golden potatoes, its juices glistening under the candlelight.

Thanks to the intensive etiquette lessons drilled into me by the maids, I maintained perfect posture, cutting into my meal with the grace expected of a noble.

The Dundragons, however… were another story.

Only Alessa showed any real poise. Gurstag and his children devoured the food before them with unrestrained enthusiasm, tearing into the roast with bare hands, completely disregarding any formalities.

I discreetly wiped my lips with my napkin, watching them from the corner of my eye.

It was messy. Unrefined.

Yet… there was something genuine about it. Something… oddly comforting.

As I took another bite, savoring the flavors, a thought crossed my mind.

The cuisine of this world is vast… but just how much more is there to discover? Do they have their own versions of the dishes from my old world?

After the meal, we thanked our hosts.

"Now, why don't the children go outside and play?" Alessa suggested, her voice warm and encouraging.

Lucian, ever the politician, nodded approvingly. "Great idea." His gaze shifted to me, sharp and unreadable. "Go outside and get along, Castiel. I'm sure you'll make good friends here."

I couldn't tell if it was a command or a threat. Lucian had a way of being both at the same time.

"Right, Dad…" I sighed, slipping off my chair and following the Dundragon children to the back garden.

The Dundragon garden was smaller than ours, but well-kept. Stone walls framed the perimeter, enclosing a handful of trees and patches of soft grass. It was quiet. Peaceful, even. But the tension between the siblings shattered any sense of serenity.

Lisa stood apart from us, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, her deep blue eyes glowering with annoyance.

"Damn it, why am I forced to be with two brats like you?" she muttered, her voice laced with venom.

Her resentment was palpable. The way she glared at Arthur, the bitterness curling in her words—it wasn't just sibling annoyance. It was hatred.

Arthur, on the other hand, seemed relieved to have someone his own age around. He tugged at the sleeve of my clothes, his face lighting up.

"Castiel, that's your name, isn't it? Let's play!" He didn't even wait for an answer before dragging me toward the far end of the garden.

Near the small stone walls, an old tree stood, its branches stretching outward like skeletal fingers. Beneath it, a few fallen sticks lay scattered on the ground.

Arthur crouched down, picking up two sturdy branches, one in each hand. His expression was one of pure excitement as he muttered,

"Forte Espada!"

A soft glow of golden energy enveloped the sticks, and right before my eyes, they transformed into two wooden training swords.

I blinked. "Wait… Did you just use magic?"

Arthur tilted his head. "Huh? This? No, it's my blessing."

That word sent a spark of recognition through my mind. Blessings…

Rare, divine gifts granted to only a select few. Unlike mana, which anyone could train, blessings were beyond human understanding. Some were powerful, some were subtle, but all were unique.

"Talking about it is boring!" Arthur grinned, handing me one of the swords. "Let's play sword fighting!"

I barely had time to react before he started clashing swords with me, his strikes light and playful. It was childish fun—nothing serious.

But Lisa had other plans.

Lisa stormed toward us, her footsteps heavy with anger. Without warning, she grabbed Arthur's wooden sword and yanked it from his hands.

Arthur stumbled, his eyes widening. "L-Lisa?"

She threw the sword to the ground, her chest heaving.

"Why does everything have to be about you?!" she shouted, her voice shaking.

Arthur flinched, confusion and hurt flashing across his face.

I stepped forward. "Why are you doing this to your own brother?"

She snarled at me, her glare full of pure disdain.

"Shut up. This isn't about you, brat." With one hard shove, she pushed me back, sending me crashing onto the grass.

I barely had time to process the fall before she turned back to Arthur, looming over him.

Her fists clenched. Her breathing was uneven.

I had seen jealousy before. But this wasn't just envy—this was hatred wrapped in the suffocating vines of resentment.

She looked at Arthur not like a brother, but like a burden.

"You always get everything! Everyone cares about you more! And for what?! Because you have a stupid blessing?!"

Arthur's lips parted, but no words came out.

A familiar anger bubbled inside me.

This kind of cruelty—I had seen it before. The strong preying on the weak, using their power to crush those beneath them.

No way was I going to sit back and let it happen again.

My fingers tightened around the wooden sword beside me, gripping the hilt with resolve.

Lisa barely had time to react before I swung.

The wooden blade struck hard against her knee.

A loud CRACK echoed through the garden.

Lisa let out a pained scream, collapsing onto the ground, clutching her leg.

Arthur gasped, his eyes darting between us. "C-Castiel…?"

I felt a sharp sting in my own hand from the sheer force of the impact—but I didn't care.

Lisa gasped, tears welling in her eyes.

"You… you hit me?!"

The moment of silence that followed was short-lived.

"What is going on here?!"

The booming voice of Gurstag Dundragon shattered the air. He and Alessa stormed into the garden, their eyes darting between us—Lisa on the ground, Arthur frozen in shock, and me standing over them with a broken sword still in hand.

Lisa sobbed, looking up at her father. "He… he hit me! He hurt me, Father!"

Before Gurstag could say anything, Arthur spoke.

His small hands clenched into fists. His voice trembled—but it was firm. "Lisa was bullying me. She stole my sword and threw me down. Castiel was just protecting me."

Alessa's face softened with realization.

But Gurstag… his expression darkened.

He stared at Lisa, his disappointment heavy.

"Lisa! You're already eleven years old. I can't believe you would do something like that to your own brother…" He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Let's go inside and sort this out."

Lisa's sobs grew louder as her parents guided her and Arthur inside.

The door closed.

And then, it was just me and Lucian.

For a moment, Lucian simply stared at me.

Then—a sharp slap.

Pain blossomed across my cheek, the sting sharp and unrelenting.

The garden fell silent.

Lucian's voice was low, but his words cut deeper than any sword.

"You fool. Do you realize what you've done? You acted on impulse. You let your emotions dictate your actions—without considering the consequences."

His eyes narrowed, his disappointment heavier than his slap.

"Your actions could compromise the relationship between the Lachius and Dundragon families. You should have known better. You should have had more emotional intelligence."

He turned away, his cloak billowing behind him.

"We're leaving."

I touched my stinging cheek, a thought gnawing at me. 

Am I repeating the same mistakes? 

Still the same fool who helps without thinking? 

For the first time in a long while… 

I didn't know the answer.