The Last Banner

The convoy returned to the manor late in the evening, the fading light casting long shadows across the courtyard as tired soldiers and workers dismounted and unloaded supplies. The air was heavy with the scent of smoke and sweat, the echoes of battle still fresh in everyone's minds.

Hadrian dismounted, helping Helena down from the horse. She gave him a small nod before stepping away to join Sophia and Cassandra, who were already heading inside under the watchful eyes of the house staff. He watched them go for a moment, a faint sense of relief settling in his chest.

The adrenaline from the day's events had faded, leaving behind an ache in his muscles and a sharp fatigue in his mind. He stretched his arms, rolling his shoulders as he turned to head toward his quarters. But just as he reached the doorway, a sudden ping rang in his ears, accompanied by a faint glow in his vision.

System Notification

Level Up!

Level 1 → Level 3

Stat Points Earned: 12

Hadrian stared at the notification, his breath catching. Two levels in one battle? He quickly pulled up his stats, scanning the display.

Current Stats

Strength: 9

Dexterity: 10

Constitution: 8

Command: 11

Intelligence: 14

Charisma: 10

Stat Points: 12

His fingers hovered over the interface as he considered his options. His endurance during the battle had been stretched thin, and while his strength was adequate, he'd felt its limitations too. With a deep breath, he allocated the points.

Strength: +6 → 15

Constitution: +6 → 14

The moment he confirmed the changes, his body seized.

A wave of blinding, searing pain surged through him, starting at his chest and spreading outward. His muscles felt as though they were being torn apart fiber by fiber, rebuilt in agonizing bursts. His bones cracked audibly, lengthening and reshaping under the strain. He fell to the floor, his scream ripping through the quiet of the manor, but the thick stone walls muffled the sound.

His hands clawed at the floor as his vision blurred, his body writhing under the onslaught of rapid transformation. Every breath felt like fire in his lungs. The warm surge of growth he had expected was a lie—this was torment.

"Stop—!" he managed to choke out, his voice hoarse, but the system didn't care. The process continued, his frame expanding, his muscles thickening as if he were being sculpted anew. He tried to stand, but his legs gave out, buckling under the strain. His scream turned into a strangled gasp before darkness swallowed him whole.

The Next Day

The sun was high when Helena knocked on Hadrian's door. She had waited through breakfast and most of the morning, assuming he needed rest after the battle, but now her patience was wearing thin. Knocking again, she called out, "Hadrian? Are you alive in there?"

No response.

Frowning, she pushed the door open cautiously, stepping inside. Her eyes widened as she took in the scene.

Hadrian lay sprawled on the floor, his old clothes stretched awkwardly over his frame. His shirt was strained against his chest, the sleeves stopping well before his wrists. His trousers barely reached his ankles, and his boots were discarded nearby. But it wasn't just his clothes—Hadrian himself looked different. He was taller, noticeably so, and his posture even in sleep seemed stronger, more assured. His face, always sharp, now carried a more striking edge, though it was his height that made her pause.

"Hadrian," Helena said sharply, stepping closer. "Wake up."

He stirred, groaning as he blinked up at her. "Helena?"

"What happened to you?" she demanded, crouching beside him. "You... you've grown. You look... different."

Hadrian rubbed his eyes, sitting up slowly. He winced as his muscles protested the movement but quickly masked it with a smirk. "Growth spurt."

Helena raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "A growth spurt? Overnight? Do you think I'm stupid?"

Hadrian pushed himself to his feet, towering over her now by nearly an inch and a half. "It happens," he said casually, brushing the dust off his too-tight shirt. "Besides, isn't this what happens to boys my age?"

Helena crossed her arms, her green eyes narrowing. "You're terrible at lying."

"Am I?" Hadrian quipped, undoing the buttons of his shirt. The fabric was stretched so tightly that it creaked with every movement. "Well, if you don't believe me, maybe you should ask the gods."

As he pulled the shirt off, Helena froze. His frame, though still lean, now carried a newfound definition. His shoulders were broader, his arms subtly stronger, and his chest more defined than she remembered. There wasn't an ounce of fat on him, his figure an unintentional mix of maturity and aesthetic perfection.

"See?" Hadrian said, tossing the shirt aside. "Just a little growing up."

Helena opened her mouth to retort, but the words caught in her throat. Her eyes flicked upward, taking in how much taller he looked, how much closer his face was now. He leaned in slightly, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. "What's the matter, Helena? You seem distracted."

She stiffened, stepping back instinctively. "You're insufferable," she muttered, though her voice lacked its usual sharpness.

"Come on," Hadrian said, closing the gap again. "I thought you'd be happy. Now you can finally look up to me—literally."

Helena glared at him, though her cheeks flushed faintly. "If you didn't save me yesterday I'd beat you up, you know that," she said jokingly,

Hadrian chuckled, stepping back to give her space. "Relax, Helena. It's just a growth spurt."

"Right," she said, clearly unconvinced. She gestured to his torn clothes. "You might want to do something about that before the staff starts asking questions."

"I'll get on it," Hadrian replied, his grin softening as he turned toward the wardrobe. "Thanks for checking on me, though. I appreciate it."

Helena hesitated at the door, glancing back at him. "Just... don't do anything reckless. Whatever this is, I don't want to find you passed out on the floor again."

"I'll try not to," Hadrian said, his voice quieter now. "And... thanks."

Helena nodded, leaving the room with a faintly puzzled expression. Hadrian sighed, running a hand through his hair as he turned back to the mirror. His reflection stared back, taller, sharper, and undeniably changed. He smirked faintly.

She's not wrong, he thought. Whatever this is, I'll make it count.