The first light of dawn filtered through the massive glass windows of the Ashborne estate, casting golden rays over the polished obsidian floors. Morning mist clung to the air outside, blanketing the surrounding hills in soft silence. Within his chamber, Raizen stirred slightly under the silken sheets of his bed.
He wasn't asleep. He rarely was these days.
His eyes remained closed as he reached out with his senses—his control over mana had grown more refined since the awakening. He could feel the subtle flows of energy within the estate: the steady heartbeats of the guards outside his door, the faint hum of barrier magic, the distant presence of his grandfather's unrestrained power lingering at the estate's core.
But this morning, something was different.
Soft, measured footsteps echoed across the marble just outside his room. Graceful. Controlled. The door creaked open—without a knock.
He opened his eyes.
A young woman in a black and silver uniform entered, carrying a steaming cup of tea. Her movements were fluid, like a dancer's. The long curtain of pale ash-blonde hair framed a face devoid of emotion, but not warmth. She placed the tea on the nightstand, then turned to face him with a slight bow.
"Good morning, Young Master Raizen. I'm here to serve you from now on."
Raizen blinked once, sitting up. "You're… new."
"I was assigned by Lady Elira yesterday," she replied smoothly. "You may call me Arin."
The name rang no bells. Her tone wasn't robotic—just… measured. She reminded him of a blade. Perfectly forged. Silent until drawn.
"You're not just a maid," he said flatly.
Arin's lips curved faintly. "I serve. I protect. I follow orders."
It was vague, but enough.
He picked up the tea and sipped. The taste was flawless. Jasmine with a faint hint of fire fruit—just how he liked it.
"Did my mother also train you?" he asked casually, watching for her reaction.
A shadow of something flickered in her eyes—respect, maybe even gratitude.
"She saved me," Arin said, her voice barely above a whisper. "She gave me purpose."
That was all. She stepped back and folded her hands in front of her, like a sentinel rather than a servant.
Raizen didn't press further. He didn't need to. Anyone trained by his mother would be dangerous enough to tear through dozens of skilled mages alone.
Arin's mana signature was buried deep, hidden beneath multiple layers. He couldn't tell her rank. That alone told him everything.
A knock echoed from the hallway. This time it was familiar—his father's rhythm.
"Come in," Raizen called, sliding out of bed.
The door opened to reveal Aldric Ashborne, still in his training robes, hair tied back, and a proud smile tugging at his lips. He gave Arin a glance, nodded once, and stepped inside.
"I see your new shadow arrived."
"She's interesting," Raizen said.
"She's elite," Aldric replied. "One of the best we have. Consider her your personal sword from now on."
Raizen didn't argue. Instead, he asked, "You wanted to talk about the party?"
His father raised a brow. "Always two steps ahead. Yes. It's in three days. You'll represent our future."
Raizen stretched, rolling his shoulders. "You mean I'll be on display."
"Exactly." Aldric's smile widened. "The other great families are sending their heirs. You'll meet them. Duel some of them, probably."
"Sounds tedious."
"Good." His father laughed. "Keep that attitude. Just remember—the Ashborne name isn't carried lightly."
Raizen nodded.
As Aldric turned to leave, he added over his shoulder, "Oh—and wear something formal this time. Your mother won't let you get away with that battle cloak again."
Raizen groaned.
Once the door shut, Arin stepped forward. "Would you like to review the guest list, Young Master?"
He sighed. "Go ahead."
She pulled a small black booklet from her waist pouch and handed it to him. Gold lettering on the cover read:
The Eight Pillars of Power – Guest Registry
Raizen flipped through the names. The heirs of the other families. The ones he would be facing soon—not just in duels, but in influence, reputation, and legacy.
The Virelins. The Kaeliths. The Drazens. The Mournveil.
So many pawns thinking they were kings.
Arin stood silently beside him, her presence calm but vigilant.
Raizen closed the book.
This wasn't just a party. It was the start of something far more dangerous.
And he was ready.