Azma City – Early Morning
Mist Palace
The air was sharp with morning dew and the cold bite of old steel. Somewhere, faintly, the echoes of training chants from a time long past seemed to hum in the stones beneath his feet.
Hiroto—no, Eris Vale now—walked through the quiet halls of Mist Palace with steps both familiar and foreign. This wasn't the main estate, yet the aura of discipline still clung to every polished surface like dust no one dared wipe away.
Azma City
one of the Cities under Vale Duchy
It's far Away From Ironvale, Which is the capital of Vale Duchy and where The Main Estate is Located.
"Children of the Vale bloodline were granted their palace and crest once they came of age. But Eris had received his early—under questionable circumstances".
"Maybe it was a pity."
" But it's obvious they didn't do it out of honor… more like it's to keep me out of sight."
His fingers brushed lightly against a mounted saber on the wall. Ornamental but sharp. Everything here was like that—decorated strength hiding old wounds.
"Good morning, Young Master," came a voice, flat and practiced.
Maria.
His maid and His shadow. The same Maid who was Assigned to him in his last life.
Her Voice was cold, and her face was Expressionless Like a Doll
She didn't respond. I just stepped aside.
He looked around again—at the crest of Vale embossed above the entryway, at the servants keeping their eyes low as he passed.
"So even now," he whispered under his breath, "they treat me like I'm already dead."
Late Morning – Mist Palace Library and Secret Archive Room
The scent of dust and ink hit him first.
Hiroto—no, Eris—stepped silently into the vast, dim-lit expanse of the Mist Palace's ancient library. Despite its grandeur, the place felt like a mausoleum. Beautiful, but forgotten."
That scraped the high arched ceiling, iron ladders mounted to rails, and chandeliers that hadn't been lit in decades—the place felt… hollow.
Like him.
Soft rays of filtered sunlight poured in through stained-glass windows, painting fractured colors across the velvet carpet. They danced faintly over the cobwebbed corners and unopened scroll tubes. No footsteps had echoed here in years. There were no whispers. No hunger for knowledge.
Except his.
He moved with quiet purpose, his hands sliding across the rows of books and their worn leather bindings. Titles in the old tongue. Cracked spines. Forgotten wisdom.
"Still untouched," he murmured to himself, brushing dust from a tome labeled "Codex of Sword Souls – Vol. VII."
He didn't bother opening it.
This wasn't what he came for.
With practiced motion—guided not by memory but by instinct—he stepped toward the far corner of the hall. There, half-hidden behind a faded tapestry bearing House Vale's emblem—a crimson sun pierced by a silver blades—lay a narrow wall panel. It had no handle. No keyhole. Only a faint, blood-colored crest was carved into its Center.
He inhaled. Focused.
Then, raising his right hand, he let his mana stir—subtle, quiet, but undeniably his—a flicker of crimson energy pulsed from his palm and into the mark. For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then… click.
The panel slid inward with a low rumble, revealing a hidden stairwell that descended into the cold, dark depths.
"…No guards. Not even a basic seal."
He smirked. "Classic nobles. Hide everything behind bloodline arrogance."
Down he went.
The deeper he walked, the colder it grew. Not just physically but spiritually. The weight of History pressed down on the narrow stairwell like the dead eyes of old ancestors were watching every step.
At the bottom: a door of silverwood and obsidian. It opened with a whisper.
The private archives of House Vale.
He stood in silence for a moment.
Vaulted shelves, sealed scroll cases, enchanted cabinets humming with protective wards. The room was barely lit—only a few hovering spirit lanterns that flickered faintly, like they, too, had long grown tired of this place.
Eris stepped forward and knelt before a display case of aged scrolls. His hand hovered just over the seal.
"The Original Eris Vale would've hesitated here," he whispered, lips curling into a quiet grin. "But I'm not him."
The seal recognized him: bloodline and soul. With a soft hiss, the case unlocked.
He began pulling scrolls and tomes one by one—sword manuals, aura circulation theories, magical lexicons etched in runes older than the Empire itself. One by one, he laid them across the stone desk in the Center of the room.
But the sword arts could wait. Magic could wait. He needed context first.
The world.
With both hands, he unclasped a silver-latched case from the back wall. Inside was something far rarer than a grimoire.
A magical globe—levitating, glowing faintly, humming with layered enchantments. He set it gently on the desk. With a flick of his fingers, the world activated.
Lines of light stretched and spiraled outward, forming shapes, coastlines, and continents—until the full supercontinent of Elyngaea emerged, suspended midair.
Eris whistled low.
"…Damn. It's way Bigger than I expected."
According to the script glowing at the base:
Elyngaea.
A Massive continent with 100 times more Mass than Earth, where Hiroto is From. A singular landmass brimming with chaos, gods, empires, dungeons, races, relics, forbidden zones, divine sects, and primal beasts.
A crucible where only the monstrous survived.
The map rotated slowly
The Continent is Divided into 4 Regions
WestEastNorthSouth
"I'm currently in the Solkardia Empire, situated in the western region of the continent."
Below it, highlighted in red… was House Vale.
"Rulers of the Northern,"
Eris read aloud.
One of the Four Grand Ducal Houses of the Empire.
His fingers hovered over each Name, watching as flags and crests flared in the air.
"Each Grand Duchy governs a fourth of the Empire… and each is strong enough to rival a kingdom."
At the Center is Solheim, the Imperial Capital, where the Imperial Family Resides, and is also known as the Holy Pillar of the Empire.
He tapped Vale's crest: a crimson sun pierced by a silver blade.
His family's Name.
His blood.
House Vale – The Sword of the North.
A thousand-year dynasty that prided itself on one thing: swordsmanship.
Elite sworders. War Generals. Battle-hardened nobles. The front was their home. Glory through steel was their creed. The House produced so many high-ranked Aura Knights that rival clans nicknamed them "The Empire's Blade Knights."
And yet…
Eris looked down at his hand.
Slim. Pale.
No aura.
"…And then there's me," he muttered. "The swordless son of a swordborn family."
He turned to another scroll—one bearing the Vale bloodline genealogy.
Dozens of names. Glorious deeds. Only one Name piqued his interest
Valerius Vale
The Founder of the Vale Clan and The First Ever Swordsman to Reach Genesis Stage
The greatest metaphysical threshold is the Genesis Stage. This is where an individual goes beyond their boundaries and enters the realm of the divine. It's not just becoming more powerful; it's a spiritual rebirth in which the soul transforms into something new.
To get to the Genesis Stage, you have to go through a huge psychological change. Not only do they get stronger, but they also become an idea, a body, or a force.
From there, he resumed reading.
The Name of his father was written in gold on Cael Vale.
Cael Vale: His father's Name was etched in gold.
Among the History of the Vale family, He is the Youngest Ever to Attain the Genesis Stage. He is recorded as One of the strongest patriarchs In The History of Vale Clan After Valerius Vale.
And then at the very bottom…
Eris Vale.
There is no aura rating.
Completely Blank.
Not even a birthright sword attached to his Name.
A hollow breath left his lips.
"This body… wasn't just weak," he whispered. "It was a stain."
No wonder they gave him a remote palace early; it was not for comfort.
There Were Eris's Siblings' names and achievements right beside him
The Grand Duke and Patriarch of the Vale clan Had Two Wives and a Total of 13 children.
Eris is the 4th son and the overall 10th-born child of House Vale.
After That, He started Learning about Aura
The scroll trembled faintly as he unrolled it.
It wasn't fear.
It was hunger.
The parchment crackled with enchantments, reacting to his mana. Old symbols ignited—runic veins spreading like fire across a body. This was no casual reading. It was a rite.
"Treat the scroll with reverence," a note had been etched in the corner. "Aura does not serve the reckless."
Eris raised a brow. "Cute. Like Aura gives a damn about manners."
Still, he instinctively adjusted his posture. Back straight. Breathing steady.
This was the one he'd been looking for.
"On the Nature of Aura," the heading read, gilded and aged.
Aura is the manifestation of will through life force. It is the breath of the body and blade. The pulse that binds one's spirit to the world. There are many kinds, but they all stem from one core: Strength flows from resolve, and resolve flows from pain that did not break you.
There are three primary stages of mastery:
Vein Awakening – The body recognizes Aura like a baby taking its first breath.Core Tempering – The spirit compresses it, turning it into raw force.Domain Manifestation – The aura takes form, warping reality around the wielder.
Eris exhaled slowly. "So… it's not just energy. It's intention."
He flipped to the next page. Diagrams of battle stances, channels through the meridian system, and breathing exercises. Some were familiar, no, the same as his other life.
"What is This?"
"Aside from a few parts, it is identical to Arkenterra. Is It Exactly the Same?"
"Let's See What else it says"
"Vein Awakening, huh?" he muttered.
Vein Awakening is the process where the latent energy within a child's soul flows into their physical body, circulating through hidden aura veins that run parallel to the bloodstream.
When awakened, these aura veins open like blooming lotus buds, allowing the soul's essence to course through the body, igniting strength, speed, and spiritual potential.
This moment is more than biological—it is spiritual.
A veil is lifted. A world of power reveals itself.
In most regions of Elyngaea, Vein Awakening occurs naturally between the ages of 7 to 14.
In noble houses, magical rites and bloodline catalysts are often used to stimulate early awakening (as early as age 6).
Those who awaken before 10 are called "Blessed ."
Those who fail to awaken by 14 are labeled "Talentless"—cursed with a fate of weakness, regardless of their will.
"Eris Vale never awakened during his youth.
Despite his noble birth, his aura veins remained sealed
"The reason His Veins Remained sealed was Because of The Curse that was cast Upon Him."
"In Arkenterra, players manifest power through a system called Mind-Link Initiation.
When a player creates a character, a fragment of their real-world soul is synced to their avatar through a MindThread, a metaphysical tether that connects mind and body. In other words, it could be called a Vein.
Unlike Elyngaea's spiritual Vein Awakening, the player's MindThread activates instantly at login— its strength depends on choices made during character creation and early quests. But There was No Age Limit For Awakening Aura "
"Anyone Can Awaken Aura As. It All just Depends on The Method we chose."
"looks like this world Lacking in knowledge compared to Arkenterra
Nightfall – Mist Palace Terrace
The night was quiet—but not still.
Wind curled around the terrace, carrying the scent of cold stone and midnight jasmine. Above, stars scattered across the sky like distant watchers. Far off, the faint clang of training blades echoed from the city barracks.
Eris Vale stood at the edge of the terrace, hands gripping the iron railing.
He didn't tremble.
Not anymore.
He watched his breath fog the air, each exhale steadier than the last. His body was sore. His mind burned with information. His soul—it felt heavier, fuller. As if it had finally fallen into place.
"This body was exiled Once," he muttered, lips quirking into a smirk. "But me? I'm just getting started."
The words didn't come with rage. Not even bitterness.
They came with clarity.
The Vale family thought they had cast away a blemish—buried a failure in a quiet palace, left him to wither. But all they'd done was hand him a place to grow in silence.
They'd made one mistake.
That I am not original Eris.
"I'll make them remember the name they threw away," he said softly.
Not shouted. Not sworn like a child begging for attention.
Spoken like a man etching his legacy into stone.
He held up his hand, the fingers still tingling from the aura exercise. He couldn't awaken it yet… but the door had cracked. And his instincts—those battle-hardened instincts—knew how to break through.
His smirk deepened. The stars seemed to shimmer with it.
Three goals.
Simple. Absolute.
First—Uncover who sealed Original Eris's aura.
Who wanted Him to stay weak? Who feared his rise so badly they'd stunted it from the cradle?
Second—Unsealed the Aura buried in his soul.
Not just aura. The system. The strange, dormant mechanism Hiroto had sensed ever since arriving. A part of him that didn't belong to this world—but was meant to shape it.
Third— Climb the Ranks and Gather allies and Build his Power
Not as a dog licking boots at noble banquets.
But as a storm.
A name. A force. That is feared and Respected.
He chuckled under his breath.
"…Not bad for a dead man."
The wind picked up, tugging at his robe, rustling the worn crest stitched into his collar. The Vale sun and blade dulled by time.
"I won't just polish that crest," he whispered. "I'll rewrite what it means."
Behind him, the palace remained quiet. Shadows didn't move. Servants didn't whisper. But even so—something had changed tonight.
Something began.
Eris tilted his head back one last time, eyes on the stars above.
"Let the world sharpen its blades… because I won't be parrying. I'll be cutting back."
He Made a Promise to Himself He will be Above Everyone Else in This World.
To be Continued...