The gates of House Arkanveil opened once more, and the golden-haired heir stepped through. Lucien paused momentarily, breathing in the familiar scent of home—mountain air mingled with the distinct magical residue that always lingered around his family's estate.
Before Lucien could utter a word—
"LUCIEEEEE!!"
A small, pink blur slammed into him with full velocity, nearly knocking him off-balance despite his enhanced reflexes.
His youngest sister, barely up to his abdomen now, clung to him with both arms and legs, sniffling, sobbing, and yelling all at once. Her golden hair—a shade lighter than his own—was in complete disarray, and her emerald eyes were filled with tears that streamed down her cherubic face.
"You were gone for SOOOO LONG! I MISSED YOU! I hate training with grandmama! She's so SCARY! You smell like fire now! Did you fight dragons? Or demons? Did you bring me anything? Why didn't you send more letters? I sent you TWELVE!"
Lucien chuckled, gently patting her head as her tears soaked his robe. The familiar weight of his sister was oddly comforting after months of constant vigilance and battle. "I missed you too, little Trisha. And I did receive all twelve letters, though I'm not sure how you managed to find me."
"I used grandmama's special bird! And I put tracking runes in your favorite boots before you left!" She beamed proudly, still not releasing her death grip.
Lucien raised an eyebrow. "You did what now?"
"Lady Trisha!" A harried-looking servant rushed out. "You were supposed to be in your etiquette lesson with Lady Senova!"
Trisha buried her face deeper into Lucien's robe. "Don't wanna! Lucie's home!"
---
**[SYSTEM INTERFACE – ACCESS GRANTED]**
**Name:** Lucien Arkanveil
**Race:** Human (Primordial Bloodline – Arkanveil Core)
**Age:** 15 Years, 6 Months
**Level:** 26
**Rank:** D-Rank
---
**Traits:**
• [Devour – EX Grade]
• [Adaptation – SSS Grade] (Evolved: Flow of Adaptation)
• [Eye of Data – SSS Grade] (Devoured)
• [Rubberman – A Grade] (Devoured)
• [Shadow Soldier – SS+ Grade]
---
**Skills:**
• Flow of Adaptation – A Rank
• Basic Sword Mastery – Lv. 10 → Evolved: Reactive Sword Style – Lv. 1 (0/500)
• Mana Resonance – Lv. 5 (312/1000)
• Spatial Awareness – Lv. 8 (495/1000)
• Combat Footwork – Evolved: Phantom Steps – Lv. 1 (0/600)
• Meditation – Lv. 9 (482/1000)
• Advanced Light Weaving – Lv. 2 (47/500)
• Divine Warding Magic – Lv. 8 (190/1000)
• Radiant Mana Control Lv. 7 → Lv. 10 → Advanced Light Weaving Unlocked
• Solar Flame Resistance Lv. 5 → Lv. 10 → Passive Trait: Inner Furnace (Minor) Unlocked
• Divine Warding Magic Lv. 2 → Lv. 8
• Affinity with Light Magic increased
• Control over internal mana circuits refined by 38.4%
---
**[Shadow Soldier Trait Activated]**
• Current Limit: 30 Shadows
• Current Shadows: 0
• Resurrection Requirement: Killed target must be F-Rank or above
---
**Storage Capacity:** 50 Cubic Meters
**Bound Items:**
• Soulforge Catalyst
• Azrien's Flame Pendant
• Adaptive Combat Notes
• Forged Blade of Resonance
• Beast Cores x4
---
## Three Months of Peace
The days that followed were slow, warm, and filled with chaos of the sibling kind.
Lucien's return to House Arkanveil rippled through the family like a stone dropped in still water. His siblings—all five of them—reacted in their own ways. The elder two, nodded respectfully before bombarding him with questions about his experiences. His youngerbrother Caelron, alternated between challenging him to duels to test his new skills and demanding he teach them the secrets he'd learned.
And then there was Trisha, the youngest at five and half years old, who had become 'Fevicol incarnate', glued to him always.
Lucien spent time reacquainting himself with home—training lightly, refining his skills, and trying (unsuccessfully) to detach his permanent accessory.
"Young Master," his personal attendant Merrin said on the third day, "perhaps we should arrange for Lady Trisha to resume her normal schedule? The Lady Matriarch has been... inquiring."
Lucien glanced down at his sister, who had fallen asleep against his side as he studied ancient texts in the family library. Her small fingers were curled tightly around the sleeve of his robe, as if afraid he might disappear while she slept.
"Let her stay," he said softly. "She'll return to her lessons soon enough."
But 'soon enough' stretched into days, then weeks. His youngest sister had developed a sixth sense for his whereabouts. She followed him everywhere—waited outside bathroom doors, joined his rooftop meditations, even appeared during stealth drills. If he turned, she was there. Like a koala with abandonment issues.
"You're not allowed to go anywhere unless you take me," she declared one morning, sitting on his lap while he tried to read forbidden runic matrices in his father's study. "I've decided."
Lucien merely sighed, shifting the ancient tome so she could see it too. "This is advanced magic theory, Trisha. You won't understand it."
"I don't care," she said, nestling against him. "I'll learn it faster if I'm with you."
Their father, Lord Arkanveil, found them like that hours later. His stern face softened momentarily at the sight of his youngest daughter pointing excitedly at a passage while his heir patiently explained principles far beyond her years.
"You've been missed," Lord Arkanveil said simply. It was as close to sentimentality as the man ever came.
At night, Lucien would often find Trisha had sneaked into his chambers, curled at the foot of his bed like a cat. The first few times, he carried her back to her own rooms. By the fifth night, he simply adjusted his blankets to cover her too.
The nightmares that had haunted him since Azriel's Forge—visions of shadows that moved wrong and flames that whispered—seemed less potent with his sister's steady breathing nearby.
"Did you fight monsters?" she asked one evening as they watched the twin moons rise from the eastern balcony.
"Yes," he answered, deciding honesty was best. "Many."
"Were you scared?"
Lucien thought back to the Chamber of Echoes, to the moment when his own shadow had risen against him. "Sometimes."
"That's okay," Trisha said with the simple wisdom of children. "Being scared is okay if you keep going anyway. That's what you taught me."
He looked at her in surprise. "When did I teach you that?"
"When I was four and afraid of thunder," she replied. "You took me to the highest tower during a storm and showed me how beautiful lightning is from above the clouds."
Lucien remembered then. It had been just before his first Trial of Merit, when he'd still been unsure of his own path.
Days blended into weeks. Lucien trained in the ancestral courtyards, often with a small golden-haired shadow mimicking his movements. He meditated in the sacred gardens, with Trisha attempting to hold the same pose for as long as she could before fidgeting. He studied in the libraries, with his sister gradually moving from picture books to basic magical primers as she insisted on reading alongside him.
There was peace in this routine, a healing he hadn't realized he needed after training.
But the peace could not last forever.
## Three Months Later – Arkanveil Ancestral Hall
The hall was massive, built into the spine of the mountain itself, with shimmering ancestral flames burning in crystal sconces. The ceiling arched high overhead, decorated with constellations of magical light that shifted to mirror the night sky outside.
Every younger-generation member of House Arkanveil stood gathered—some chatting, others whispering. The air hummed with anticipation and nervous energy.
Lucien, dressed in obsidian-accented robes, stood near the center.
The Trials of Arkanveil... were about to begin.
And for the first time in generations, they would test not just skill and power, but the very bonds that defined what it meant to be family.