When Edrick first reached the First Star rank, something within him shifted.
He began to feel the spirits in the wind—understood their will, and in turn, could send his own intentions through the air. Two years later, at the age of twelve, Edrick ascended to the Second Star.
That was when the spirits began to lend him their power.
It wasn't much—barely enough to summon a breeze.
But Edrick, ever pragmatic, found a way to use it differently.
Rapid Recharge.
Spirits were, by nature, part of the world's will, and the force they wielded was mana itself.
Edrick discovered he could inject this borrowed mana directly into his dantian—the energy center most knights slowly filled through controlled breathing and inner cultivation.
But Edrick?
He shoved the mana in by force.
It wasn't just about recovery speed, though his method was dozens of times faster. No, the brilliance lay in how he used that forced pressure to change himself.
The dantian is still part of the body, after all.
Just like how someone who frowns constantly ends up with a hardened expression, or how an arm grows lopsided from years of arm wrestling, the dantian adapted to repeated, intense use.
So Edrick devised a method:
Incremental Overload.
He would exhaust his mana completely, then refill it at once using the spirit's help—again and again.
He abused his dantian, forcing it to adapt and grow at a pace far beyond his peers.
Because of this close collaboration with spirits, when Bella taught him about mana bullets and the rotation of mana in the heart, Edrick's mind immediately leapt to the wind spirit.
"The circle is a ring of mana rotating around the heart," she had said.
Coincidentally, Edrick could already inject mana directly near his heart instead of his dantian.
So what if he rotated that mana around his heart like a circle?
It was a logical experiment—and the result?
Devastating.
"One more time."
Edrick focused.
The mana granted by the spirit began to rotate, orbiting his heart like a satellite.
This time, he doubled the amount.
The rotation sped up.
He raised his finger and pointed at the far fence.
Not yet. A little more...
The speed of the rotation surpassed anything he had attempted before.
But he didn't stop.
The principle of the mana bullet was simple: convert the centrifugal force of spinning mana into a direct burst of energy.
The faster the spin, the more destructive the force.
Whirrrr—
A rising hum only he could hear.
The mana spun like a crackling ember wheel inside his chest.
Then, suddenly, he dropped his hand—
Fwip—
A silent streak of energy launched downward.
It pierced the hardened soil with barely a sound. But the result?
A perfect hole, about the width of a finger, bored into the earth.
Kneeling, Edrick examined it.
It was deep—at least a full hand's length.
"..."
He stood and turned his gaze—not to the fence, but far beyond it.
Toward the Bearut estate.
With this...
His eyes went cold.
In the Kingdom of Gaia, fifteen was the coming-of-age.
It was the age when one was considered mentally and physically mature enough to begin formal mana training.
Some prodigies started earlier, but few dared to risk permanent damage by rushing into it.
And today, Edrick turned fifteen.
To celebrate, Count Leonhardt had invited the surrounding nobles and their children to the estate.
The party was held in the main hall.
Roughly fifty guests had gathered, adults mingling with poise, while their children wandered, flushed with awe.
After all, this was the House of Loen—a family with centuries of legacy.
The young guests whispered as they stole glances toward the center of the room.
There stood Edrick, dressed in a neatly tailored uniform, black hair slicked back, emerald eyes sharp and composed.
His graceful demeanor made it hard to believe he was only fifteen.
Even the adults couldn't help but be impressed.
A boy who just came of age... carrying himself like this?
House Loen is as formidable as ever.
They'll continue to thrive, no doubt.
Edrick moved easily through the crowd, greeting his peers with confident politeness.
He lowered himself to no one, yet his presence never felt arrogant.
Those who spoke to him couldn't help but admire him.
He's younger than me, but I could learn a lot from him.
I want to befriend him.
No wonder he's the heir of House Loen...
It was like magic.
A brief conversation with Edrick transformed one's impression entirely.
And then the doors opened.
A thin, sharp-nosed man with a hooked expression entered, speaking with easy bravado.
"Ah, have we arrived too late?"
It was Hilbert Bearut, Viscount of the neighboring domain.
Trailing behind him, a relaxed young man with brown hair stepped in.
Dvich Bearut.
Edrick's gaze turned icy.
For five years, Dvich had pined after Lucia, Edrick's younger sister.
Dvich removed his gloves and offered them to his waiting servant, who rushed to place them into a decorative box.
With a proud expression, Dvich approached.
"Dvich Bearut. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Lord Edrick. Your bearing is truly that of a noble heir."
He placed a fist lightly over his chest in greeting.
Handsome, polished, and well-mannered—on the surface.
The surrounding nobles murmured.
He's said to be close with Lady Lucia.
If Loen and Bearut joined forces—legacy and wealth together—it could shift the balance in the south.
All of this gossip reached Edrick through the spirits.
Bullshit.
The Loen family despised the Bearuts.
And yet...
Edrick smiled—a sharp, wolfish grin.
Hide the blade behind the smile.
"Indeed, it's our first meeting. With how often your letters arrive, I could've sworn we'd met before."
"Haha! I'm honored you remember. I've always admired House Loen."
"You've been sending letters to Lucia for five years now, haven't you?"
The remark struck the room like a bell.
Everyone knew the story: Dvich sending gifts and letters on every holiday and birthday—waiting patiently for Lucia, despite being twenty-five years old to her mere ten.
He refuses all marriage proposals just for her.
Devoted, isn't he?
He's always praising the Loens in public—such persistence!
It was a careful game.
If they had openly proposed a marriage, Count Leonhardt would've rejected them on the spot.
But Bearut never crossed that line—always showing just enough courtesy to remain untouchable.
Edrick reached into his coat and pulled out a slender brass cylinder, about ten centimeters long.
It was worn smooth from countless hours in his palm.
To anyone else, it looked like an ornament.
But in truth, it was a bullet casing—from the sniper rifle of his past life.
Whenever Edrick needed to center himself, he rolled it between his fingers.
When anxious.
When afraid.
When grieving.
And—
When enraged.
Grin.
A cruel smile curved his lips.
Dvich flinched.
For a brief second, it felt like a blade had brushed the back of his neck.
He tried to recover, but Edrick spoke first.
"How old are you, Lord Dvich?"
"...Twenty-five."
"Then why are you here?"
"...Excuse me?"
Dvich's mask cracked.
The once confident expression wavered.
Edrick scanned the hall.
All conversations had stopped.
People stared, stunned.
He turned back to Dvich, now showing no effort to hide the killing intent in his gaze.
"My father said he invited young nobles close to my age. Do you think it makes sense for a twenty-five-year-old to form a close bond with a fifteen-year-old?"
"If their hearts align—"
"Not hearts. Interests. The Bearut family is a merchant house, after all."
"...!"
The hall fell into icy silence.
The Bearuts, so desperate for legitimacy they courted a child... now exposed in front of the entire nobility.
Crack. Crack.
Dvich's jaw tightened.
The grinding of his teeth was audible.
Finally, he forced a smile.
"That's not fair. I genuinely respect House Loen and want to build a good relationship."
"Using Lucia to do it?"
"That's a misunderstanding—"
"Do you truly love Lucia? A man in his twenties, in love with a five-year-old girl?"
"..."
No answer could save him now.
Either he was a manipulator or a predator. There was no clean exit.
"And another thing," Edrick added, lowering his voice so only Dvich could hear.
"This is my celebration. Bringing such an expensive 'gift' is bad manners."
His eyes drifted toward Dvich's servant.
Specifically, the man's chest.
A slave brand.
In Gaia, slavery was illegal.
The man Dvich kept by his side was a branded, illegal slave.
No noble would dare treat a person as property publicly.
But this man wasn't technically a person, was he?
Edrick's stare was too pointed to dismiss.
Dvich felt his blood run cold.
He knows.
He clenched his fists—but then another voice cut through the tension.
"Ah, perhaps I brought the wrong son after all."
Hilbert Bearut stepped forward, chuckling awkwardly.
"The younger one is still a child, so I brought the elder. But I see I've misjudged. We've shown our faces, so we'll take our leave."
He bowed lightly to Edrick, then turned and walked away.
All before Count Leonhardt and his wife had even entered the hall.
The guests whispered in confusion, but Edrick merely watched them go—
His gaze colder than ice.