The morning sun cast golden rays over the sprawling Ashborne estate, but today, Raizen's training didn't take place in the open courtyards or the weapon hall. Instead, he followed his grandfather down a descending spiral staircase hidden behind a sealed door beneath the western wing of the estate.
The air grew colder with each step.
"Where are we going?" Raizen asked, eyes narrowing as the light dimmed. "You've never brought me this way before."
Darius chuckled. "You've seen swords, you've learned forms, you've pushed your body to the limit. But now, it's time you understand what you'll face outside these walls. Time to see the world we live in."
At the bottom of the stairwell, a colossal underground chamber opened up, its walls glowing faintly with engraved runes. At its center stood a tall, obsidian gate, arched and pulsing with faint violet light. The sheer mana it emitted made the hairs on Raizen's neck stand on end.
"This," Darius said, gesturing to the eerie structure, "is a Gate."
Raizen's eyes widened. "A real dungeon gate?"
"Dormant now," Darius replied, "but years ago, it led to a B-rank dungeon. Your father cleared it in his youth."
He approached the gate, his voice grave. "Gates like this appear across the Empire and beyond. Rips in space. They lead to other realms—pocket dimensions flooded with mana and crawling with magical beasts."
Raizen reached out toward the gate. Even inactive, its energy was undeniable.
"So this is where dungeon beasts come from."
"Yes. They live in environments twisted by mana, evolving differently than surface creatures. Some have intelligence, others are pure instinct. And when a gate stays open too long... it overflows. We call it a dungeon break."
Raizen frowned. "What happens during one?"
"The beasts don't stay in their realm. They spill out. Rampage. Entire cities have fallen to dungeon breaks in the past." Darius turned toward him. "The Empire prevents that now with early detection systems and elite adventurer corps."
Raizen absorbed every word. "How are dungeons ranked?"
"Same as humans: F to SSS. With the rare SSS+ threat beyond that."
Darius walked him around the gate, continuing, "An F-rank dungeon is dangerous to an unranked human. A C-rank requires a team of trained fighters. B-rank and above? That's where nobles, academy elites, and family members like us come in."
Raizen looked thoughtful. "So, training in dungeons is normal?"
"Essential," Darius said firmly. "Inside a dungeon, mana behaves differently. Denser, rawer. It flows around you constantly, forcing your body and core to adapt. The deeper the floor, the more pressure you feel. That pressure is what forges the strong."
Raizen clenched his fist, feeling the weight of expectation. "And the academy has dungeons?"
"Oh, yes," Darius smiled proudly. "The Imperial Academy is built on an island resting over a dungeon nexus. Multiple gates exist beneath the school grounds. They're regulated and ranked for safety, but students use them regularly."
He added, "Only the top students get access to the most dangerous ones."
Raizen's eyes sharpened. "Then I'll be one of them."
Later, seated with his parents in the estate's inner library, Raizen continued to learn more about the upcoming events.
A golden scroll lay open on the center table, bearing the Ashborne family's crest and the elegant seal of House Virelin beside it.
"All the Great Houses have confirmed attendance," Marcus said, sipping his tea. "The heirs are coming. All around your age."
Raizen tapped the scroll, eyes narrowing. "I assume they'll all be at the academy too?"
"Correct," Eleanor said. "The academy takes in the most elite. Every heir will attend."
"Which families should I watch out for?" Raizen asked.
Eleanor leaned forward, graceful yet intense. "Every one of them. Each bloodline holds power shaped by generations."
She listed them:
House Virelin, your maternal line. Bloodline ability: Temporal Glimpses—minor future sight.
House Sylvan: Masters of illusion and sensory disruption.
House Drayven: Manipulation of shadow and emotion.
House Arkhel: Control over metals, both liquid and solid.
House Vaelstrom: Masters of elemental storm magic—lightning and wind.
House Thorne: Beasts tamers, their bloodline lets them form contracts with magical creatures.
House Cindralis: Healers and soul manipulators.
And lastly, House Ashborne: Your family. Telekinesis, refined over centuries into the most lethal force-wielding art in the continent.
Raizen leaned back. "They'll test me at the party."
Marcus smiled faintly. "Not just test. They'll gauge, provoke, and if they sense weakness—strike."
Darius entered, arms crossed. "Let them. We'll show them what it means to be an Ashborne."
That evening, as Raizen walked through the starlit garden paths, he thought back to the gate. His mind burned with curiosity.
Inside that gate... lies power.
He reached a stone platform at the center of the garden where his siblings—Riven and Selene—waited. They were sparring, their weapons clashing, moving with precision and power.
Riven noticed Raizen and smirked. "Done talking with the old man?"
Raizen rolled his eyes. "I saw a dungeon gate."
Selene stopped mid-swing. "They finally showed you?"
"I'm ready to go in one," Raizen said.
Riven laughed. "Not yet, runt. You're still F-rank."
Raizen's jaw clenched, but he didn't respond with anger.
He unsheathed his katana and took a stance. "Then help me reach F+."
Selene raised an eyebrow. "Training session?"
Raizen nodded.
"Let's see if your resolve matches your words," she said, spinning her spear.
Under the moonlight, the three Ashborne siblings danced, steel meeting steel, laughter mixing with the sound of clashing mana.
Meanwhile, in the capital…
A tall man with long silver hair and sharp violet eyes stood in front of a floating screen bearing the Ashborne seal.
He was Lord Vaelstrom, head of one of the Great Houses.
"A party... hosted by Darius Ashborne?" he muttered, voice sharp.
Behind him, his aide looked uneasy. "All eight houses were invited. Including the royal family."
Vaelstrom narrowed his eyes. "If Darius is stepping into the light again… then something's changed."
He turned away, his cape billowing.
"Prepare our heir. We'll attend."