The silverware had been set down. The final sip of velvet-red juice had been swallowed. And the feast worthy of kings—no, of Archdukes—had ended.
The towering double doors of the grand dining hall creaked open once more. Several maids stepped in with practiced precision, their steps graceful as they began the symphony of post-meal service—clearing plates, replacing cloth, and resetting silver that glinted like stars against satin.
Lucien quietly slipped out of his velvet-padded chair, careful not to make a scene. His small figure, dressed in noble attire stitched with Velebrandt silver threads, made his way back across the polished black-marble floor.
Behind him, the cool and gentle voice of his father echoed across the hall.
> "Lucien."
The boy froze for a moment, straightening reflexively. The Grand Duke's deep baritone followed:
> "Your training begins next week. Be prepared."
Lucien turned slightly, offering a firm nod—remembering to stay composed, noble.
> "Yes, Father."
He bowed ever so slightly and continued walking, his soft leather shoes echoing lightly in the hallway.
At his side was Marie, ever the quiet shadow with a warm smile and observant eyes. She matched his pace effortlessly, hands neatly clasped before her apron.
> "Do you require anything at this time, young master?"
Lucien blinked, still partly in awe of the meal he had just devoured. Each bite had tasted like the gods personally approved the recipe.
> "No, I don't think so," he replied lazily, rubbing his tiny stomach. "That meal still has me halfway in heaven."
Marie chuckled softly, tilting her head in gentle amusement.
> "Very well, young master. If you require anything, simply call, and I'll return at once."
He gave a small nod, still caught in the haze of roast duck, velvet potatoes, and that ridiculous honey tart with gold flakes on top.
They soon reached the familiar hallway—the one leading to the grand double doors of Lucien's personal chamber.
The moment he stepped inside, Marie paused behind him.
> "Then I shall take my leave, young master."
> "Okay then. Goodbye," Lucien said absentmindedly, already thinking about plopping down onto his oversized bed.
The door quietly clicked shut behind him.
Silence.
Then—
> "YESSSS!!!"
Lucien jumped into the air with all the power his six-year-old body could muster, fists raised high like a tiny warrior who just defeated an ancient dragon.
> "I really… REALLY got isekai'd!! In style!"
He spun once, his silver hair glinting beneath the glow of the enchanted chandelier. The silk curtains, the lavish canopy bed, the carved wardrobe taller than a giraffe—this was all his now.
> "This is the dream, baby!" he shouted, then paused and looked around. "...Okay maybe keep it down. Who knows if this room is bugged with noble-grade surveillance spells."
He flopped dramatically onto the bed, arms stretched wide, sinking into the feathered mattress like it was made of clouds and butter.
But his joy only lasted a few seconds before reality reared its head.
> "...Right. The 16 heroes."
His eyes narrowed, and he stared blankly at the ceiling above, painted with enchanted starlight that shimmered gently.
> "If they really retained their memories from the last timeline… then I'm on their hit list."
He sighed, placing an arm over his face.
> "But if I remember correctly… they only awaken their hero statuses when they're ten years old. Which means…"
He moved the arm and stared again.
> "Right now, they're just one-year-old toddlers. Basically farting in silk diapers."
A beat passed. He slowly sat up on the edge of the bed.
> "My little brother is probably one of them too. Future party member of those 16 holy avengers..."
Lucien rubbed his temples.
> "Which means I've got roughly four years before any of them awaken and start getting suspicious of me."
> "That's… good. That's time. Time I can use to prepare."
He stood up, brushing imaginary dust off his vest.
> "But here's the thing—aside from the bits of lore I saw before transmigrating, I know jack squat about this world. Politics, alliances, wars, races… the Abyssians are just the start."
His eyes wandered to the large window overlooking the Velebrandt estate's western grounds—hazy mountains in the distance, where faint black clouds brewed like quiet threats.
> "If I want to survive… no—if I want to live freely here, I need knowledge."
He turned around quickly, slapping a palm into his own fist.
> "A mansion like this HAS to have its own library, right?"
Lucien's eyes sparkled at the thought. Scrolls, tomes, family records, battle history, maps—he was going to devour them all.
> "Let's go, nerd mode: activated."
He dashed toward the bell-rope beside the wall and yanked it twice.
A few moments passed, and soon a knock sounded.
> "Young master?" Marie's voice called gently.
Lucien smoothed out his clothes, cleared his throat, and spoke with noble pride:
> "Marie, I'd like to be taken to the family library."
A pause.
> "...Of course, young master. I shall escort you at once."
As Lucien stepped outside once again—his head brimming with thoughts of history, hero legacies, and demonology 101—he reminded himself once more:
> "Information is power. And if I'm going to outplay the world's strongest cheat-coded heroes, I'll need all of it."
_________________________________________
The Velebrandt mansion was quiet at this hour, basking in the warm glow of the descending sun that filtered through stained-glass windows. Shadows stretched long across the marble floors, and the halls smelled faintly of old wood, rose oil, and ancient dignity.
Lucien walked beside Marie in silence, though his mind wasn't nearly as quiet.
> A library… A private, noble family library. If there's any place I can start piecing this world together, it's there.
He glanced up at Marie, who was walking with her usual grace, the hem of her maid skirt fluttering slightly with each step. The brown-eyed maid seemed to carry an air of gentle awareness, always alert, always present.
They turned a corner, and the hallway opened up into a secluded marble corridor framed with elegant lanterns and a golden tapestry bearing the Velebrandt crest: a winged sword plunged into an abyss, surrounded by silver flames.
At the end stood two armored guards before a pair of tall obsidian doors carved with silver filigree and ancient script. Their polished armor caught the hallway light, standing like statues until they noticed Lucien's approach.
One stepped forward, helmet tucked under his arm, and bowed deeply.
> "Young Master Lucien," the guard intoned, voice crisp. "The Grand Library awaits your curiosity."
Lucien blinked at the formal greeting but nodded like a proper noble child, channeling all the dignity his six-year-old frame could muster.
> "Thank you."
He turned to Marie, offering a small smile.
> "And thank you as well, Marie, for guiding me."
Marie paused, caught off guard. Her soft brown eyes widened slightly.
> "Young Master… there's no need to thank me. This is simply my duty."
Lucien tilted his head, his tone playful but sincere.
> "Just accept the thanks. It's only natural to show gratitude when someone helps you."
The maid stared at him for a moment, then her lips curved into a warm, genuine smile. She bowed with one hand over her chest.
> "Understood. Then… you're welcome, Young Master."
With that, Marie turned gracefully and walked away, her footsteps light on the marble, leaving Lucien alone with the twin guards.
The great doors opened with a solemn groan, and Lucien stepped through.
What awaited him inside was breathtaking.
The Grand Library of House Velebrandt was a cathedral of knowledge. Towering shelves reached all the way to a domed ceiling painted with stars and mythical beasts. Crystal chandeliers hung above, softly glowing with enchanted light. Golden ladders slid silently along rails that curved with the architecture. Stained-glass windows cast rainbows over long mahogany tables and velvet reading chairs.
> "...Damn."
Lucien's eyes went wide. His small hands slowly spun as he tried to take it all in.
> "It's like a wizard's wet dream in here."
He wandered further, overwhelmed by the sheer number of books—thousands, maybe tens of thousands—each bound in leather or scale, marked with gilded titles, runes, and seals.
> "Alright, focus," he whispered to himself, summoning determination. "Politics. History. Abyssians. Races. Heroes. Let's go, Brain. You've been training for this."
He began scanning the labeled shelves, one hand trailing along the spines. "Demonic Ecology," "Chronicles of the Hero Epoch," "Treatises on Royal Genealogy," "Runic Script for Beginners," "Drakari War Canticles"…
Hours passed.
At one point he tried sitting. Then standing. Then crouching in the dusty aisle. He had never read so many ancient fonts in his life. And yet—he couldn't stop.
Finally, near sunset, Lucien plopped into one of the velvet armchairs with a small stack of selected books beside him.
> "Jackpot."
He pulled the first one toward him—an old tome titled The Three Continents of Man: A Comprehensive History of the Unified Age.
He leaned back in the chair, the parchment crackling gently in his hands.
> "Time to peel back the curtain and see the world I've been dropped into."
He turned the first page with the reverence of a monk handling sacred scripture.
> "In the beginning, the world of Elyssira was one of chaos and division…"
Lucien's red and gray eyes sparkled under the library lights.
> "Let's see what kind of game I've really been thrown into…"