As Alden thought about the future, he decided to note down all the important information about the novel in a book, so he wouldn't forget it.
He walked to his desk and opened the drawer, finding a blank journal inside.
Without hesitation, he began writing—recording everything critical in the language of his hometown, one unknown to anyone in this world.
In the world of Eryndor, power was everything.
The higher your rank, the more authority and respect you commanded.
There were ten known ranks of power in this world:
Novice
Initiate
Apprentice
Adept
Expert
Master
Grandmaster
Ascendant
Overlord
Primordial
Each rank had three minor stages, and advancing brought a significant boost in power.
In recorded history, only two individuals had ever reached the Primordial Rank—the Demon King and the Hero King, who sacrificed his life to seal the former.
Their tales were now myths to the current generation.
After writing down every important scenario he could remember from the novel, Alden placed the book back into the drawer and leaned back, deep in thought.
Currently, the strongest person in the world stood at the peak of the Overlord Rank.
Those few at this level were the true rulers—controlling governments, military, and fate alike.
In the human domain, few had reached that peak.
One of them was Alaric Draven, the patriarch of the Draven family.
Alden Draven—no, he—was Alaric's illegitimate son.
There were five major states in the Vallorian Empire who reported directly to the Emperor.
The Draven family was also one of them. They ruled over Dravonia.
And Alden?
He was a stain. A mistake. Not even worth acknowledging.
He sighed, brushing a hand through his hair as the weight of that truth settled in.
Then—
BANG.
The door burst open.
A tall boy with blond hair and crimson eyes walked in, arrogance radiating off of him like heat.
His body was lean and athletic—like a star athlete back on Earth—but his expression was twisted with superiority.
Cedric Draven.
Alden's half-brother.
The one he hated most.
Rodrick may have cursed with words, but Cedric? Cedric used fists.
He made sure Alden felt worthless every single day.
Cedric looked at Alden, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Still alive, huh?" he sneered. "You really don't know when to give up."
He scanned Alden like a predator looking for weakness.
"Father should've dealt with you properly a long time ago."
Alden's body tensed.
His breath caught.
His muscles remembered.
The fear was automatic, deeply ingrained.
His fist clenched.
Damien's fury bubbled up within him, but the body—Alden's body—shook with fear.
He wanted to wipe that smug look off Cedric's face.
He wanted to fight back.
But he couldn't.
Not yet.
He was still weak. Powerless.
The anger inside was volcanic.
But he forced himself to stay calm.
Cedric wanted him to snap.
"You know," Cedric continued, casually cruel, "Father doesn't even ask about you anymore. He's embarrassed, you see. Can't have the great Alaric Draven associated with... you."
Alden kept his gaze low. His jaw trembled.
Cedric stepped forward, grabbed him by the collar.
"Where are you looking, huh? Look at me when I'm talking."
Alden slowly lifted his eyes—burning with quiet fury.
Crimson stared into crimson.
He didn't flinch.
He didn't blink.
Cedric let out a harsh laugh.
SMACK.
His hand collided with Alden's cheek.
"Who the fuck do you think you are to look at me like that, huh?"
The slap hit like steel. Pain bloomed across Alden's face.
But he didn't lower his eyes.
Another.
And another.
Alden simply... counted each slap.
You'll pay for this, Cedric. For every single slap... you'll pay dearly.
"Don't get ahead of yourself," Cedric growled. "You're just trash. A mistake. You shouldn't have been born."
More slaps followed, fast and cruel.
Alden's cheeks turned raw and numb.
But he never looked away.
Cedric's face twisted in anger. "You dare defy me?!"
This time, he didn't stop at slaps.
Punches. Kicks.
A flurry of violence.
Alden's mind screamed.
Fight back!
But his body wouldn't move. The fear ran too deep.
Only when Alden collapsed to the floor, unable to lift his head, did Cedric finally stop.
"Count yourself lucky," he spat. "If I could kill you before the Awakening Ceremony, you'd already be dead."
He tossed a healing potion on the ground—like throwing scraps to a dog.
"I can't have you die before then, now can I?"
And with that, Cedric stormed out, not sparing him another glance.
Alden didn't hear the door slam.
He didn't hear anything.
His world dimmed.
But just before he lost consciousness, he saw a blurry figure rush into the room.
There was urgency in their steps.
Then—darkness.