Clarsen had spent years as a knight, throwing himself into countless battlefields—not just for his motherland but to test his own limits. He craved growth, refusing to settle for any rank or title. Strength was the only thing that mattered to him.
Unlike many warriors, Clarsen had no divine blessing to guide his path. He was just a man with a sword, defying the heavens themselves in pursuit of power. Many called him a fool, some even called him insane, but none could deny his relentless will.
To him, stopping meant death. His blade never rested because the moment it did, his journey would be over.
Perhaps the reason he could be so reckless was that he had nothing to lose. His parents had been framed for a crime they never committed, forcing them to leave him in an orphanage. He had no family, no home, no one waiting for him.
And when there's no one to mourn your death, fear vanishes. That void creates something terrifying—an unstoppable force.
It took Clarsen years of grueling effort before he was finally recognized as a warrior worthy of admiration. But now, after all that struggle, a boy with just a few glowing blue lines on his face was receiving more praise than Clarsen had in a lifetime.
The church members surrounded Arthur, showering him with admiration.
"I knew the moment I looked into his eyes that Arthur would become a remarkable warrior. And see, my prediction was right," said Bowman, the Head Priest, as he placed a hand on Arthur's head. His smile was warm, but Arthur felt no warmth from it.
Dressed once again in his usual clothes, Bowman and the others did nothing but praise him. It was exhausting.
"He is the first person from Westmere to attain a Second-degree blessing. Such a beloved child," a nun added with a sigh of admiration.
Arthur's father, Aston, stood nearby, his face full of pride. "Thank you for guiding my son, Father."
"Oh, you don't need to thank me. I'm certain he would have gained this blessing even without our help."
As the adults talked, Arthur felt an elbow nudge his side. He turned to see his older brother, Kevin, grinning from ear to ear.
"Aren't you happy?" Kevin teased. "Stop pretending like you don't care."
Arthur glanced at the ten-year-old's bright smile. There wasn't a single trace of jealousy in his expression. His blue eyes were pure, free of bitterness.
"Don't you feel bad that you weren't able to awaken?" Arthur asked.
Kevin blinked in surprise before answering, "Why would I feel bad? I mean, I did dream of awakening, but seeing you grow as a magician... it's like I'm fulfilling that dream through you."
Arthur's lips parted slightly as he stared at his brother.
Such innocence. What exactly runs in the blood of the Strongharts that makes them so pure?
"Shall we go, children?" Aston's voice cut through his thoughts.
"Yes!" Kevin answered eagerly.
With that, their family of four left the church.
Once they were gone, Bowman's smile faded. His gaze lingered on Arthur's retreating figure, his expression unreadable.
"What's wrong, Father?" one of the priests asked, noticing the Head Priest had fallen silent.
Bowman exhaled slowly, rubbing his tired eyes. "That child is peculiar."
"Peculiar? How so?"
Bowman's fingers tensed as he recalled the ritual. "When I began the ceremony, an overwhelming light surrounded him. For a moment, I was blinded. But more than that… I felt something. A presence beyond human understanding—something immortal."
The nun behind him gasped. "Are you saying… you felt the presence of the Almighty One?"
Bowman shook his head. "I can't say for sure." His gaze darkened, his voice lowering. "But I am certain of one thing. No matter which path he takes—whether good or evil—Arthur will leave an undeniable mark on this world."
******
"I will prepare a feast today." Virelle declared as they sat inside the carriage.
"Will we be eating meat?" Kevin asked in excitement. Seriously, he holds vigor equivalent to a whole town.
Virelle's smile faltered for a moment, but then she nodded, "Yes, of course." However, that slight slip-up didn't go unnoticed by her younger son.
The meat here was a luxury since Westmere shared the same forest as another town, which has a much more vast hunting network.
And considering the amount of hunters in Westmere it was no wonder why these people barely get to see meat.
In total, there was one hunting guild and the number of hunters could be counted on fingers. Because of such scarcity, the amount needed to buy meat is simply overwhelming for a middle-class family.
'This is bad...' Arthur heaved a sigh. The situation of the Barony and his family was not good and things continued like this, the Viscount might arrive one day and demote Aston,
"Captain!" Suddenly someone stopped their horse before the carriage, bringing the carriage to a halt.
Aston got down from the seat before asking, "Conrad? What happened?"
Arthur glanced at the person named Conrad. Brown long hair that covered his forehead and a pair of hazelnut-shaded eyes.
He is with Aston from the time when Aston was a knight—an old comrade, which explains why he calls Aston 'Captain'.
Arthur listened closely, as he heard Conrad hurriedly informing, "The Viscount...he is here! He has summoned you to the farm right away!"
Arthur frowned. Talk about raising flags.
"The Viscount?" Aston visibly stiffened upon hearing that, as he said, "At the farm? Why did he go there and not my office?"
"I think it's about crop failure. You should come right away or you know how ugly things will become."
Aston had a grim look as he clenched his fist and turned toward the carriage.
Returning to the carriage, Aston said, "Dear, would you mind if we stopped by somewhere first?"
Virelle also didn't have a good expression on her face ever since she heard the title 'Viscount' but she didn't express her displeasure and nodded, "Okay."
Aston looked at Arthur who had a complicated look on his face before he ran his hand through his son's hair and softly said, "Everything is fine, son."
Although he said that, Arthur had a very bad feeling about this.
*******
A/N:- I will post their pictures soon.