The sun filtered through the trees, casting dappled patterns across the training courtyard. The steady rhythm of spells crashing against stone, wood, and sand had become the new normal within the estate's walls. Logan stood at the center of it all—calm, focused, and tireless. A surge of flame burst from his palm, followed by a sharp gust of wind that extinguished it in a precise motion. Then a water whip spiraled upward and hardened into a frozen spear mid-air, before being shattered by a bolt of lightning.
"Good," Rudeous said, watching from the shade of a high veranda. "You're syncing the elements faster now. No hesitation between affinities."
Alice clapped softly from beside him. "His coordination is improving by the day. It's almost unnatural how easily he adapts."
Logan exhaled, wiping sweat from his brow. His hands trembled slightly, more from excitement than fatigue.
Three months had passed since the affinity test that had shaken the Smith estate to its core. In that time, Logan had thrown himself into study and practice with unrelenting intensity. He rose before the sun and rested only when it was afternoon , his days split between theory with Rudeous, practical training and magical control exercises with Ardyn Vex . And every evening—almost religiously—he had dinner with Alice. And at night he would cultivate. His whole day was nonstop hard work, meditation.
But in between he didn't forget to cherish the life. He didn't forget to enjoy some happy moments.
His meals with his mother, Alice together had become a cherished routine. In the warmth of the family dining room, laughter flowed more freely than mana. Logan would often recount his mishaps—setting a practice dummy ablaze while trying to blend fire and air, or accidentally soaking a servant when water magic got out of hand. Alice always laughed the loudest, her smile lighting the room in a way that softened even Rudeous's stern expression.
Once, during a quiet evening, Logan looked up from his stew and asked, "Did you ever think I'd make it this far?"
Alice reached across the table and placed her hand over his. "I always hoped. But you… you're becoming something extraordinary, Logan. And not just because of your magic."
Even Rudeous, whose obsession with power often eclipsed his emotions, had begun to show signs of pride. He was still strict—unyielding, at times—but Logan could feel the change. The nods of approval came more frequently. The lectures were less scolding, more guiding.
But not everyone watched with joy. Everyone didn't share the mutual interest. Some eyed with envy, concern clear in their eyes.
From the shadows of the estate, Lady Mirena kept a close eye. She rarely interfered directly, but her eyes saw everything. Every spark of progress, every shared laugh between Logan and Alice, every glance Rudeous gave the boy with subtle admiration—it all fed a growing fear inside her.
In Darius's chambers, Mirena sat by the window one morning , watching the training yard below. Darius stood behind her, arms crossed, eyes stormy.
"He trains like a possessed child," he muttered.
Mirena's gaze didn't waver. "And yet, you sulk. Straighten your back, Darius. If he reaches Tier One soon, and you stay idle, what will the others whisper?"
Darius clenched his fists. "He already has five affinities. I have three. How can I compete?"
"You compete because this house is yours to inherit," she said sharply. "Do you think a only talent guarantees leadership? Nobility isn't just talent. It's legacy. It's perception. So train. Make them remember who the rightful heir is."
Darius didn't reply, but his silence was enough. The next day, he was seen in the courtyard before dawn, practicing sword forms embedded with fire magic with a vengeance. Mirena also promised him a tutor. Better than Ardyn Vex at that.
Meanwhile, Logan continued climbing. The whisper of elemental control became fluent expression. He could now sustain spells longer, shape them with better precision, and even begin merging basic forms. His mentors were astonished—and cautious.
Finally, one evening after supper, as firelight flickered across the dining room walls, Rudeous made a rare announcement. "As of today," he said, "Logan has officially reached the threshold of a Tier One mage. At just ten years old." His perfection in mana control and spell casting abilities are that of a tier 1 mage. I already discussed it with Abraham. And he confirmed it after testing Logan. So getting a license of a tier 1 mage is just a matter of time now. Logan can visit the mage's court or hunter's guild to get his license.
Alice nearly dropped her fork. Logan looked stunned for a second—then just smiled, a little shy, a little proud.
"Congratulations," she said, pulling him into a tight hug.
The news spread quickly. Whispers filled the halls again—among guards, among servants, among the elders who had once doubted. For some, it was awe. For others, concern.
And for Mirena… it was a turning point.
That night, after everyone had retired, a servant arrived at Logan's door with a message: "Lady Mirena requests your presence in the East Wing Study."
Logan frowned slightly. He hadn't had many private conversations with Mirena since arriving. Something in the air felt… cold.
When he entered the study, she was already seated near the fireplace, a cup of tea untouched on the table beside her. Her face was serene, as always. Too serene.
"Come, Logan. Sit."
He did.
There was a long silence before she spoke again.
"You've grown," she said quietly. "Not just in strength, but in presence. Even your footsteps feel… heavier."
"Thank you," he said cautiously.
"I watched your testing duel with court-mage Abraham," she continued. "I've watched your training, your bonding with Alice, even Rudeous. You're changing the rhythm of this house, whether you mean to or not."
Logan looked at her, unsure where this was going.
Mirena's eyes narrowed slightly. "So I must ask you plainly, Logan. Are you… seeking the seat of the Smith family? The title? The throne?" A concern clear in her voice.
The words struck like a hammer. Logan froze.
Mirena sipped her tea at last, gaze fixed on him.
"Well?" she asked, her tone still calm, but loaded.
Logan opened his mouth—