— Return of the Skyster Lord
And if you're wondering why Dian looked so surprised—let me explain.
The Skyster family owns **over 325 hectares of land**. That's **34,982,708.9 square feet** of fertile territory under their control, passed down through generations of conquest and blood. The Skysters weren't just nobles — they were **founders**.
When the kingdom itself was being established long ago, the king had to request the Skyster family's support to proceed. The family's influence was unmatched, backed by a lineage of legendary mages — each one the finest of their generation, undefeated in both spell and sword.
Their name became synonymous with strength and myth. Some even whispered of ties to **dragons**, though the lack of sightings turned the rumors into fading legends over time.
But when the age of peace began, and the roar of war dulled to silence, the Skyster ancestors turned their gaze to the earth beneath their feet. They carved the land into manageable sections and cultivated it, transforming their martial might into agricultural wealth.
They constructed **castlets** — smaller castles — every ten hectares and assigned trusted stewards to oversee productivity and finance. It gave the common people work, stability, and safety. In turn, the kingdom flourished. The Skyster name grew mightier still — revered even **above the royal family** itself.
But power invites envy. Many tried to sabotage, ambush, and destroy the Skysters over the centuries. None succeeded. Through war, betrayal, and time, **they never bowed**.
---
Dian composed himself and stepped into the carriage. His butler followed close behind.
*Whip!*
The reins snapped, the horses neighed, and the carriage began its journey down the dusty cobbled road.
Inside, Dian's eyes wandered to the landscape through the glass window, even as his mind kept calculating.
So… 325 hectares of farmland, a castle, another estate in Silia Town, a system interface, and a… wife?
A faint smile crept onto his face.
My life's been nothing short of amazing so far…
And indeed, that 325 hectares was only the **farming land**. His main estate and other holdings weren't even counted.
But Dian wasn't the only one grinning that day...
---
**Thirty miles away**, in a far-off castlet nestled between fields, a man lounged on a silk-covered couch.
These smaller castles — *castelets* — were functional, not ornate, yet his room was dressed in wealth. The man's robe was red, embroidered with golden runes. His fingers were studded with rings, each adorned with rare stones. His jet-black hair was tipped with white, and his eyes carried a distinct green hue — aged, calculating.
Standing next to him was his aide, dressed almost identically, though his jewels were fewer and fabrics cheaper.
"With the last rainfall and those water-affinity mages I hired," the older man said with pride, "this year's harvest should be excellent."
Hiring elemental mages was common practice when rainfall failed. Water mages irrigated the fields for a price — a price that didn't come from his own pocket, but from profits meant for the Skyster family.
"You were right again, Lord Abils," his aide said with a bow.
**Abils** — 46 years old, appointed by Dian's late father years before the boy was even born — laughed softly.
But the mirth died quickly.
*Thud!*
The castlet's door burst open as a guard stumbled in, breathless.
"M-My Lord!" the guard managed, gasping for air.
Abils stood. He didn't scold him. The urgency was written all over the man's face.
"What is it?" he asked, voice low.
"A carriage!" the guard blurted. "A carriage with the **Skyster crest** — the flying bird! It's coming this way!"
Everything froze.
Abils paled. His aide — **Ziro** — did too.
No… it can't be. Not after all these years…
It had been five long years since anyone from the Skyster main estate had visited.
And in those five years, with no inspections or oversight, Abils had grown greedy.
"Ziro!" he barked. "Cover everything you can. Meet me outside immediately!"
He rushed from the room without another word. Ziro bolted toward the study, sweat trailing down his face.
He ran down the halls, heart pounding.
We have to hide it—hide everything—before it's too late!
---
Outside, a **grand carriage** rolled to a stop on the cobblestone road.
Crafted from deep navy wood with golden inlays, it shimmered under the sunlight. Intricate carvings — vines, stars, and clouds — ran along the panels, framing the **silver crest** of a bird mid-flight. Its wings stretched wide, etched against a glowing circle — a symbol of nobility, ambition, and freedom.
Two white stallions, pure-blooded and gleaming, stood proud in ornate silver tack. The coachman's uniform bore the same crest over his chest.
Workers and villagers nearby froze. Some bowed. Others whispered.
The **Skyster family** had returned.
Few knew of Dian's recovery, so the reactions were mixed — surprise, awe, and even fear.
But not everyone was afraid. Some stared with **hope** in their eyes.
From the carriage stepped a young man in black.
His presence alone quieted the field.
He wore a simple black noble robe with silver trim — understated but majestic. No jewelry. No extravagance. But every fold, every seam, whispered *power*.
Over his heart, embroidered in silver thread, was the Skyster crest — the bird soaring freely.
His face was sculpted, youthful yet defined. Brown eyes glimmered with intellect and calm fire. His jet-black hair danced with the breeze.
He stepped forward, and the world tilted slightly.
Gasps echoed across the courtyard.
---
"Aaahhh! He's sooo handsome!" a woman whispered.
"He's super *hot!*" another blurted.
"Is that really Lord Dian? I want to have his babies!" cried a third.
There was a beat of silence.
Then the other women turned to glare at her.
"You *ugly hag*, look at yourself first! I should have his babies!"
"Oh please, I saw him first!"
"Back off! I'll be Lady Skyster—"
And just like that, without his knowledge, **a battle to carry on his legacy had begun**.
---
Back inside, Abils adjusted his robe nervously as he heard the commotion outside. If it wasn't the Young Lord himself, things could still be salvaged...
Then he stepped outside.
And he saw him.
Abils's thoughts froze. His breath caught in his throat.
The black-robed figure's gaze locked onto him. Calm, but sharp. Studying. Judging.
Dian smiled — though it didn't reach his eyes.
"So…" he said softly, his voice like distant thunder,
"You're Abils."
.
.