-5 Years Later-
Magnus stepped in front of the mirror and measured his height again. He was taller now, and for a ten-year-old, he had quite a healthy build.
Magnus sat down at the desk beside him and opened his notebook. Many exercises were written in detail throughout its pages. He turned to the section on arm workouts and began his exercises without wasting any time.
Having lived a military life in his previous world, he had become obsessed with building a strong body in this one as well. For that reason, he had written down every exercise and dietary regimen he could remember, and he was careful about his sleep schedule.
When nearly an hour had passed, Magnus finished his workout, wiped off his sweat with a damp towel, and washed his face. Then he heard a servant knock at his door.
"Young master, the meal is ready."
"I am coming," Magnus replied.
He put on his clothes and stepped out of his room. After walking down the corridor, he stopped at the threshold of a double door. He took a breath, then opened it and stepped inside.
Everyone in his new family was already there.
Not only his siblings, but his aunt had also come for the meal, for today was a kind of holiday. According to the customs of this world, it was a day when family and close friends gathered to share a meal.
Unless Magnus was mistaken, the day had become a tradition spanning hundreds of years because it marked the ascension of a deity.
"Were you doing those ridiculous chicken-like movements again, little brother?"
Those words came from a young man seated at the table. The eldest child of the family and Magnus's older brother, Raphael.
The stubble on his jaw and his oddly mismatched haircut, set against his sharp, diamond-cut face, ironically made him look like one of those cliche villains.
Raphael's mocking tone created a brief tension at the table, but it did not last long.
"Leave him alone, Raphael."
This time the voice belonged to the woman seated at the head of the table. Her tone was neither loud nor sharp, yet it carried a weight that left no room for argument. Magnus raised his head slightly and looked at her.
His aunt sat with her usual flawless posture, her gaze calm but measured. Her name was Evelyne. She was also accomplished enough to serve as a professor at the academy.
Raphael rolled his eyes but did not respond. He tapped his spoon against his plate and shrugged.
"I was only joking."
Magnus said nothing. In situations like this, silence was often more effective. Especially when dealing with people like Raphael.
He walked toward the table and took his seat. For a brief moment, his eyes swept across everyone at the table.
His mother looked tired but at peace. His little sister, still young enough to be considered a child, had devoted her entire attention to the meal in front of her. Raphael, for all his outward indifference, was still watching Magnus from the corner of his eye.
And then there was his older sister.
Selene.
She was different from the others at the table. Not only in appearance, but in the way she carried herself. Her back was straight, her chin tilted ever so slightly upward. Her eyes were not the eyes of a child but of someone who knew exactly what they wanted.
She had reached marriageable age and had grown into a remarkably beautiful woman. Yet instead of marrying and settling into domestic life, she had chosen to build a career.
For that reason, despite their father's objections, she had enrolled in the academy using money she had saved herself.
But what truly caught his attention was not her beauty.
It was her determination.
For a woman in this world to choose her own path, especially to walk into a place like the academy entirely on her own, was not merely an act of courage. It was a declaration. Of course, women fared somewhat better in this world compared to the medieval era Magnus had come from.
After all, the rank and power gained during awakening were not determined by gender. There were many women in the academy. But Selene was the eldest daughter of a baron.
Eldest daughters of lesser nobles like them were typically given in marriage to the families of their overlords. But Magnus respected the path his sister had chosen.
She had enrolled in the academy without the family's support, relying solely on her own savings. And from what he had heard, she was exceptionally talented.
Just as Magnus was sinking into his thoughts, the heavy door opened once more.
Every person in the room subtly but meaningfully straightened their posture. Even Raphael set down his spoon.
The man who entered was middle-aged. With his broad shoulders, slightly bowed head, and measured steps, he resembled not a warrior but someone long accustomed to the negotiating table.
This man was Magnus's father.
Baron Dormon Sellendor.
It was immediately clear that he came from a family that had only recently risen to nobility. His clothes were of fine quality, yet he lacked the effortless ease that old-money nobles carried as if born with it. In its place, every movement of his conveyed learned discipline and hard-won authority.
Baron Dormon Sellendor walked slowly to the table and settled into his chair at the head.
"A blessed holiday to you all," said Dormon.
"Blessed holiday," nearly everyone replied at once.
Little Rina was a moment behind the others, her mouth already full of bread.
"Bwessed holiday!" she managed, garbling the words cheerfully.
A brief silence fell over the table. Then Elera laughed. Quietly, warmly. At the sound of that laughter, every pair of shoulders in the room eased almost imperceptibly.
"Rina, you will speak after you have swallowed," said Elera, gently tidying her daughter's hair. Her voice was not a reprimand but a reminder. Gentle as a hand shielding a small flower from the wind.
Rina nodded and swallowed with great solemnity.
"Blessed holiday!" she repeated. It came out much clearer this time, and the pride on her face was plain for all to see.
The meal proceeded at an unhurried pace.
Dormon devoted the first few minutes entirely to eating. He did not care for conversation at the table, or more precisely, he did not care for idle conversation.
"Evelyne," he said at last, setting his knife on the edge of his plate. "Any news from the academy? How has the new term begun?"
Evelyne set down her glass without a sound. Unlike the others at the table, she did not shift her attention suddenly. She was always composed.
"New student admissions came in larger than expected," she said in an even tone. "Those arriving from the eastern reaches of the Empire were especially numerous this year. There had been reports suggesting awakening rates were rising in the border regions. It appears those reports were accurate."
Dormon's brow furrowed slightly. Magnus knew that expression well. His father made it not when he received bad news, but when he began to calculate.
"From the east," he repeated. "That is an interesting development."
"Interesting?" said Raphael, waving his fork. His tone was as careless as ever, though his eyes were sharp. "I would call it troublesome. It means more competition."
"More competition means a larger pool," said Evelyne, without looking at her nephew. "Those who fear competition have no business being there in the first place."
Raphael said nothing. Evelyne's responses of that kind always arrived at exactly the right moment, leaving no ground to defend and no foothold for argument.
Dormon's gaze drifted slowly to the other end of the table.
To Selene.
The look did not linger long. But it carried enough weight.
"What do you think?" Dormon asked, his voice still calm. But that calm concealed a pressure building beneath the surface. "About this... surge at the academy."
Selene set her fork on her plate. The motion was neither hurried nor hesitant. She raised her head and looked at her father.
"An expected development," she said plainly. "If awakening rates are rising, this is a natural consequence. Expansion of the academy is inevitable."
Dormon's lips tightened slightly.
"Must you see everything in such... clinical terms?" he said. "I am asking about the outcome behind the question, not your lecture notes."
The atmosphere at the table grew heavy at once. Raphael leaned back slightly, his eyes moving between the two of them. Elera was silent, but her hands had tightened almost imperceptibly.
Selene did not retreat.
"If you want me to speak plainly," she said, "more awakenings means more shifts in the balance of power. Particularly in the east."
Dormon tilted his head slightly.
"And that excites you, does it?"
"It concerns me," Selene corrected. "Excitement is something else entirely."
Dormon leaned back. He spoke without taking his eyes off his daughter.
"These are not things that should concern you."
That sentence was the kind everyone at the table heard but no one wished to challenge directly.
Selene's brow furrowed slightly.
"I am no longer a child."
"No,But you are still a part of this family." said Dormon. This time his tone had shifted. It was harder. More direct. "And the interests of this family come before individual ambitions."
Magnus set his spoon down slowly. This was no longer an ordinary conversation.
A brief flash appeared in Selene's eyes. It was not anger. But it was certainly not submission either.
"I have always put the family first, Father. That was one of the reasons I went to the academy."
Dormon's gaze sharpened.
"Is that so? Then explain it to me. Refusing the offer of a duke's son... was that also for the sake of the family?"
The silence at the table deepened further. Even Rina had set down her food. She did not fully understand what was happening, but she could sense that something had gone wrong.
Selene's voice was colder this time.
"Yes."
A single word.
But full of weight.
Dormon let out a quiet laugh. There was neither warmth nor humor in it.
"That marriage would have given you a life of luxury. You could have had everything you wanted. Instead you chose a future with no certainty at the academy. By now I would have been holding my grandchild in my arms..."
At that moment, Elera sensed that her daughter was about to say something she should not, and tried to intervene. But it was too late.
"And you would have been smothering that grandchild in chocolates, thanks to the position you gained through your daughter's marriage, would you not, Father?"
That was not merely a retort. It was the moment a line was crossed.
Elera's hand froze in midair. She had reached out to intervene, but it was already too late. Raphael's eyes widened, and then a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips that he struggled to suppress.
Evelyne tilted her head slightly. Her face was unreadable, but her eyes tracked Dormon with careful attention.
Magnus did not move.
But inwardly, he held his breath. This... was bad.
The expression on Dormon's face did not change. Not at first glance. But his eyes. His eyes went cold.
"Madam Elle, please escort Selene to her room. She has traveled a long way and must be tired."
Selene did not move from her seat for several seconds.
It was as though a fine line existed between what had been said and what had been commanded, and she was standing precisely on top of it.
Then she let out a very small breath.
She set her fork slowly on the edge of her plate.
"Understood," she said, and left the room without waiting for the servant.
Dormon stared at the door for a few seconds.
Then he picked up his knife again, as though nothing had happened.
"The food is getting cold," he said.
Elera bowed her head. Her hands were still trembling faintly, but she was skilled at concealing it. She returned to her meal.
As Magnus watched, he sighed. Whatever new life and new family he had been given, at the end of the day, people were still people. They fixated on trivial details and failed to see one another's worth.
His father had his valid points, and so did his sister, yet neither of them could see that. In every regard, Magnus loved his family and wanted to keep them together.
That was why he wanted to enrich and elevate House Sellendor, which for now was nothing more than a modest barony.
Fortunately, a System lay at his disposal, ready to grant him power and glory.