《Reborn Mercenary of the Sword Clan》


 The Last Stand

    Blood. Smoke. Screams that no one would remember.


    Danarre knew this was the end. He stood at the northern breach of Telwalk Fortress, where corpses piled two deep and the air crackled with stray mana bolts and desperate pleas.


    Half the mercenary band he''d led here lay in twisted heaps behind him. The other half? Deserted, fled, or soon to be dead.


    The man who once carried the moniker "Red Gale" was alone.


    "Come on, you bastards!" Danarre snarled, spitting blood from a cracked lip. He adjusted his stance, feet grinding into the shattered stone.


    Dark-garbed soldiers funneled through the broken archway. He counted seven. No, eight.


    One held a rune-etched staff still dripping with conjured flame. Another hefted a heavy war pick. All wore that grim insignia: a downward-pointed sword wreathed in green flame.


    The Kingdom''s special enforcers, or so they claimed. Danarre had killed six of them already tonight.


    A ding followed. He risked a glance down as a panel of pale light flickered into his vision.


    [System Notification]


    Name: Danarre LeMott (Red Gale)


    Level: 38


    Class: Mercenary Lieutenant


    HP: 124/910


    Stamina: 43/300


    Mana: 0/0


    Status: [Bleeding II], [Broken Rib], [Exhausted]


    Skills: [Blade Flurry Lv.5] [Dirty Feint Lv.4] [Resolve Lv.6] [Adrenaline Surge Lv.3 (On Cooldown)]


    No further level-ups available.


    He snorted. That was bad. The system, stingy as always, offered no miracles. No last-minute buffs.


    Sure, he''d lived a hard life, grinding out levels by running errands for nobles and slaying beasts. But in the end, the math was simple: he was bled dry, outnumbered, and cornered.


    The fortress walls behind him were slippery with gore, and the enemy smelled his weakness.


    "You''re surrounded, merc," one of them hissed. A stocky figure with a half-shattered helmet stepped forward. "Surrender and we might make it quick."


    Danarre chuckled, low and rasping. "Last time someone said that, I ended up with this pretty scar on my thigh. You think I''m gonna trust you jokers?"


    He raised his sword¡ªan old hand-and-a-half blade chipped at the tip¡ªand beckoned them closer. "Let''s skip the chatter. I''m too damn tired for it."


    They charged. The first swung a curved blade at shoulder level. Danarre ducked, ignoring the twinge in his ribs, and slammed the pommel of his sword into the man''s elbow.


    A crunch, a scream, then a backhand slash sent the soldier''s helmet spinning off into the dark. The soldier''s neck sprayed crimson.


    [System Notification: Enemy Killed! Gained 255 EXP.]


    Useless. Not enough for a level. Danarre stepped aside, narrowly avoiding the thrust of a spear. He twisted and rammed his sword into another attacker''s gut.


    The blade snagged on bone, and he had to plant a boot on the man''s chest to yank it free.


    In that instant, the staff-wielder muttered a guttural spell. Danarre barely had time to lift his off-hand bracer to shield his eyes.


    Flames roared forth in a concentrated jet. The heat washed over him. He felt the leather of his vest begin to smolder, and his cheek blistered on impact.


    He lunged through the flame, howling, sword raised. The caster''s eyes widened. That was the moment Danarre lived for¡ªthat spark of terror he put into the hearts of anyone foolish enough to face him.


    He drove his blade straight through the mage''s sternum.


    [System Notification: Enemy Killed! Gained 290 EXP.]


    He coughed through the smoke, vision dancing with spots. Two down, at least five more to go. His HP had to be dropping just from the burns alone.


    He didn''t dare glance at his status again. It was too depressing.


    Behind him, the sound of stones cracking. He glanced over his shoulder. Through the smoke, the dark silhouette of someone¡ªsomething¡ªmassive loomed atop the fortress wall.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    Reinforcements? Danarre''s heart sank. If that thing joined in, he was screwed.


    He pressed on. Another enemy swung a war pick, aiming low. Danarre pivoted, tried to parry, and sparks flew as metal clashed.


    His arms trembled. That last kill had cost him precious stamina. He felt like he was lifting lead weights strapped to his wrists.


    A sudden pain flared in his left side. He looked down to see a short blade protruding from between his ribs. One of them got him. Bastards.


    Danarre grunted and grabbed the attacker''s wrist with his free hand, twisting until he felt bones pop. The man screamed, dropped the knife.


    Danarre slammed his forehead into the attacker''s nose with a sick crunch.


    "Your mama teach you to sneak up like that?" Danarre hissed, voice ragged. "Mine taught me better manners." He shoved the man away and stumbled back.


    A searing ache told him he didn''t have much time left. Blood soaked his leather vest. He could barely stand.


    "Damn. I must look like shit," he muttered, trying to laugh, but it came out a cough. "Bet I smell worse too."


    Something massive landed behind the enemy line. The ground shook. The soldiers parted, revealing a giant in dark plate armor.


    Not human, that was certain¡ªits helmet''s visor glowed crimson. In its hand, a huge zweihander crackling with green runes.


    Danarre forced himself to focus. He raised his blade again. Just one more trick. Just one more kill.


    If he took down this big bastard, maybe he''d get enough EXP to heal up. Some classes got that perk¡ªhe didn''t, but a man could dream.


    The giant knight strode forward, slow and deliberate. The remaining soldiers fanned out to flank Danarre, forming a half-circle. Trapped like a rat.


    This wasn''t the glorious end he imagined, but it''d do.


    "Know what I hate most?" Danarre said, licking dry lips. "Bastards who wear fancy armor and think it makes them invincible." He spat. "You''re just another target."


    The giant knight''s voice echoed hollowly: "You defied our liege. You slaughtered our men. You are out of time."


    "Yeah, yeah," Danarre said, forcing a grin. "Let''s get on with it then."


    He lunged, going for a desperate overhead strike. The knight swung its huge sword in a lazy arc, blocking Danarre''s blade with a clang that rattled his teeth.


    The sheer force behind that parry flung Danarre back two steps. He nearly lost his footing. Nearly.


    He snarled and circled right, aiming for a chink in the armor near the giant''s hip. But the knight was ready.


    A gauntleted fist crashed into Danarre''s shoulder, shattering something. Pain exploded across his chest. He gasped, sinking to one knee.


    [Status Updated: Broken Collarbone, HP Critical]


    No shit, system. Thanks for the heads-up.


    The soldiers laughed. The knight raised its sword high, runes flaring. A greenish smoke drifted from the blade''s edge.


    Some cursed enchantment. Danarre knew that if he died here, there''d be nothing left of him¡ªno glorious memory, just another corpse in the rubble.


    "You think I''m scared?" Danarre murmured, voice low, mostly to himself. "I''ve crawled out of deeper graves than this. Hell, I''ll do it again."


    He forced his body to move. Adrenaline Surge was still on cooldown, but Resolve might give him a moment''s clarity. He triggered it mentally, feeling a faint tingle.


    [Skill Activated: Resolve Lv.6!]


    Pain slightly reduced


    Willpower temporarily increased


    He staggered upright and charged again, ignoring the blackness at the edges of his vision. His sword flickered out, a feint, then a real strike aimed at the knight''s knee joint.


    Metal screeched. He chipped a chunk off the armor. Not enough. The knight responded with a downward slash.


    Danarre tried to sidestep, but he was too slow. The giant blade caught him across the torso, carving deep through flesh and bone.


    He screamed. The world tilted. He toppled backward onto the rubble. The sky was a smear of smoke and stars.


    His sword fell from numb fingers. He vaguely saw his status screen flicker:


    HP: 3/910 Severe Bleeding Organ Damage: Critical


    The knight stood over him, towering and pitiless. One of the soldiers stepped forward, trying to get a better look.


    Danarre laughed, more a wet cough than laughter. "Look at you¡­ all high and mighty. You win, big guy. Hope it makes you feel like a real tough bastard."


    He tried to lift his arm. No good. Everything was cold. His fingers wouldn''t respond. He felt his life slipping away, dripping into the broken stones beneath him.


    In the distance, the fortress''s main keep was aflame. The heat from that distant fire mingled with the stink of charred corpses.


    He remembered better days¡ªcheap ale, dirty jokes, and the feel of a good blade in his hand. He remembered old friends, long dead.


    He was a mercenary who''d never reached the top, never gotten that legendary kill to cement his name. He''d been close, so close, but fate had other plans.


    "Any last words?" the knight asked, voice echoing. Somehow that offended Danarre. He''d been a terror on the battlefield, a man whose name alone had been enough to frighten most.


    Now, he was a joke to them.


    "Sure," Danarre rasped. "When you meet your gods, tell ''em Danarre LeMott said, eat shit."


    The knight lifted its sword high. The runes blazed bright green, casting sickly light across the dead and dying. Then the blade came down.


    [System Notification: HP 0/910. You have died.]


    Darkness.


    For a moment, there was nothing. Just a void¡ªcold and unfeeling. He tried to think, but thoughts slipped away.


    Pain was gone, which was a mercy. He had expected something¡­ maybe a judgment hall, or a final scoreboard of his life''s kills. Maybe his mother''s face, who he barely remembered.


    Instead, just emptiness. But emptiness didn''t last.


    A faint, whispering presence stirred in the darkness. He couldn''t see it, couldn''t name it, but he felt it coil around him like smoke.


    It tugged at him, drew him along a path he couldn''t perceive. He tried to speak. No voice. Just awareness drifting in a black sea.


    Then he heard soft murmurs, indistinct, as though from behind a closed door. Was that crying? Or perhaps chanting?


    Suddenly, a flare of light. Not the green runes or the torchlit fortress, but a soft glow like moonlight through gauzy curtains.


    Danarre''s awareness stretched thin. He understood nothing, yet felt something profound changing. Like an old shirt being peeled away and replaced.


    He reached for the memory of that final battlefield, tried to hold onto his hard-won skills. The system. His scars.


    They were slipping through his fingers. He had no body, no voice, but he still tried to scream in defiance. He would not vanish so easily.


    He was Danarre, the Red Gale, damn it.


    More whispers, a distant lullaby. He caught fragments of language, too blurred to translate. Then a single word, or maybe a name: "Danarre."


    It drifted past him and he clung to it. The void receded, the darkness cracked, and a gentle warmth enveloped him.


    For just an instant, he understood: He was going somewhere else. This was no simple death. The world had decided to roll the dice again, to toss him into a new game board.


    He laughed inwardly. whoever was behind this cosmic joke, he hoped they were ready. Because he''d be back. Better. Stronger. Smarter.


    And he wouldn''t die like a cornered animal next time.


    He drifted, weightless, into new life, no longer a battered mercenary on a burning battlefield, but something else entirely.


    The next time he opened his eyes, everything would be different.

 Death and the Tarot

    Silence. No torches flickered in this darkness. No scent of ash, no moans of dying men.


    Just the quiet void and a feeling of weightlessness. Danarre¡ªno, what was he now? Just a shard of a soul drifting between worlds¡ªfloated in the gulf of nothing.


    Then, a whisper of cloth. A faint clink, like bone tapping on stone. A shape emerged.


    A figure draped in robes of tattered black, its face hidden by a white porcelain mask. Across the mask''s surface, cracks formed a twisted smile, and sockets where eyes should be glowed with pinpoints of faint green light.


    "Welcome," said the figure. Its voice echoed in Danarre''s mind rather than in any physical air. "You have died. But your fate is not yet written."


    A round wooden table materialized between them, old and scarred, as if carried through countless ages. On this table lay a deck of large, ornate cards: thick parchment edges, inked illustrations that shimmered.


    The robed figure shuffled them lazily. Danarre felt the presence of something immense behind this being, as if it were only a servant of a greater cosmic order.


    "Who are you?" Danarre asked, or tried to. It felt more like pushing thought through gel, but the figure responded anyway.


    "I am the Gatekeeper of Souls," it said gently, "a humble attendant to the God of Death. You, Danarre, are offered a choice."


    [System Notification] You have died. Your mortal life ended with HP reduced to zero. However, an Opportunity Event has triggered! Condition: Unusual Willpower at Death You have encountered: The Gatekeeper of Souls. Your future will be shaped by the cards you choose.


    Danarre felt his consciousness tighten. He didn''t have a body, yet he could feel adrenaline again.


    Another chance? He refused to be a mindless husk. If some god offered a path, he''d walk it¡ªhell, he''d sprint.


    The Gatekeeper spread the cards face down in a wide arc. Twenty-two cards, each representing some archetypal force. Their backs were inked with swirling skulls and blooming flowers.


    "Pick three," it said, voice almost kind. "Three cards to define the shape of your new destiny."


    Danarre tried to speak, but only thoughts emerged. "What do these cards do?"


    The Gatekeeper chuckled softly. "They grant blessings, curses, and traits. They influence your new life. Choose carefully, for the weave of fate is fragile."


    Danarre reached out¡ªmetaphorically, since he lacked hands. Still, he felt his essence guided toward the cards.


    [System Notification] Tarot Selection Phase Initiated! Choose 3 Major Arcana Cards to determine starting stats, abilities, and destiny path.


    Options Unveiled:


    The Tower ¨C A card of upheaval, struggle, and dramatic change.


    The Sun ¨C A card of vitality, success, and clarity.


    The Moon ¨C A card of mystery, intuition, and hidden powers.


    The Devil ¨C A card of ambition, temptation, and binding contracts.


    Death ¨C A card of transformation, endings, and new beginnings.


    The Emperor ¨C A card of authority, control, and martial might.


    The High Priestess ¨C A card of hidden knowledge, subtlety, and intuition.


    The Magician ¨C A card of skill, resourcefulness, and the harnessing of forces.


    The Chariot ¨C A card of victory through willpower, discipline, and conquest.


    The Lovers ¨C A card of choice, unity, and profound bonds.


    Justice ¨C A card of fairness, law, and consequences.


    The Empress ¨C A card of growth, nurturing, and abundance.


    Strength ¨C A card of inner courage, patience, and resolve.


    The Hermit ¨C A card of introspection, spiritual journey, and solitude.


    The Hanged Man ¨C A card of sacrifice, perspective, and letting go.


    Wheel of Fortune ¨C A card of fate, luck, and sudden turns.


    The Star ¨C A card of hope, guidance, and inspiration.


    Temperance ¨C A card of balance, moderation, and synergy.


    Judgement ¨C A card of reckoning, rebirth, and final decisions.


    The Hierophant ¨C A card of tradition, structure, and established truths.


    The World ¨C A card of completion, integration, and total understanding.


    The Fool ¨C A card of potential, spontaneity, and the unknown journey.


    They lay before him, shimmering. Danarre felt overwhelmed. Every card radiated possibilities.


    The Gatekeeper leaned forward. "Take your time," it whispered. "Your choices shape your destiny."


    Danarre considered. He was a mercenary who wanted strength, but strength alone hadn''t saved him. He remembered being cornered, lacking magic, lacking versatility.


    Perhaps he needed cunning, hidden power? Or the means to break free from old limitations?


    He hovered over The Emperor¡ªthat would bring martial might. But he also remembered how pure force wasn''t enough last time.


    The Magician tempted him: skill and resourcefulness. Maybe blending sword and sorcery would be wise.


    The family he was heading toward, though he didn''t know it yet, might frown on magic. Having that ace up his sleeve could help.


    Death caught his eye too. Ironic. He was literally dead. Could it unlock transformation, a better second life?Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    And maybe The Tower, for it mirrored his old life''s chaos, or The Star for hope?


    He decided with instinct and a grin. "I''ll take The Magician," he said. "I like the sound of harnessed forces."


    [System Notification] You selected: The Magician


    Gained Trait: [Resourceful Mind] (+10 INT, +5 DEX) Gained Starting Skill: [Arcane Glimmer Lv.1] (Allows minor magical effects)


    Passive Bonus: +5% EXP gain for unconventional methods.


    Danarre felt a subtle warmth, like a spark in the void. Good start.


    For his second pick, he considered longevity and change. He wanted to be better, to adapt. He locked onto Death. Why not embrace the symbol of his current predicament?


    "I choose Death," he said.


    [System Notification] You selected: Death


    Gained Trait: [Rebirth''s Edge] (Each level-up restores more HP and MP) Gained Starting Skill: [Awakened Potential] (Hidden growth stats unlocked) Passive Bonus: Greater affinity for transformations, curses reversed into blessings over time.


    Perfect. That sounded potent. Transformation and growth.


    Now for the third card. He wanted something that gave him staying power, some inner fortitude.


    Strength beckoned. He lacked brute force at the end. Inner courage could help.


    But The Emperor offered authority and martial skill. Then again, The High Priestess might unlock deeper secrets¡­


    He remembered how he died trapped and outmaneuvered. He needed discipline, will, something to push him forward.


    The Chariot? Victory through discipline. Or The Tower for dramatic change?


    He exhaled (or imagined doing so) and settled on The Emperor, a symbol of command and structure. He would lead, not follow.


    "I choose The Emperor."


    [System Notification] You selected: The Emperor


    Gained Trait: [Commanding Presence] (+10 STR, +10 END) Gained Starting Skill: [Battlefield Focus Lv.1] (Briefly enhance combat stats by 10% for 10 seconds) Passive Bonus: Improved leadership capabilities and respect from martial individuals.


    Danarre felt a surge, as if muscles were forging themselves from nothing. He almost flexed phantom arms.


    The Gatekeeper nodded. "A fine triad. The Magician, Death, and The Emperor. Your path will be unconventional but guided by strength, cunning, and endless rebirth."


    The Gatekeeper gathered the remaining cards. "But we are not done. One last spread to shape the details of your new life. This time, I will draw three cards for you."


    "You may accept or reject one of them, but only one."


    The being fanned out the deck again, but this time it drew three cards face-up:


    The Hanged Man: A pale figure suspended by one foot, calm in adversity.


    The Devil: A horned creature with chains at its feet, tempting and cunning.


    The Star: A radiant star shining over tranquil waters.


    The Gatekeeper tapped them with a bony finger. "These represent your burdens and blessings."


    "The Hanged Man grants the ability to gain insight from suffering¡ªleveling certain skills faster when injured."


    "The Devil offers temptation and ambition¡ªfaster power growth but at the cost of moral corruption."


    "The Star grants hope and guidance¡ªimproved recovery and a hidden ally in times of need."


    Danarre considered. The Devil was dangerous. He liked ambition, but corruption? He''d been ruthless, but not rotten.


    The Hanged Man''s boon sounded interesting, but relying on suffering for growth sounded grim.


    The Star, though¡ªit promised hope and subtle aid. He remembered how alone he''d been in death. Maybe a hidden ally would save him next time.


    "I accept The Star and The Hanged Man, but I refuse The Devil," he said. He didn''t want corruption on top of everything else.


    The Gatekeeper nodded.


    [System Notification] You accepted: The Hanged Man


    Trait: [Insight Through Pain] (Skill proficiency gain +20% when HP <50%)


    You accepted: The Star Trait: [Guiding Light] (When all seems lost, a hidden ally or hint will appear once per major arc)


    You rejected: The Devil No penalty gained. Devil''s temptation avoided.


    The Gatekeeper lifted a skeletal hand, and for a moment, Danarre felt pride. He was shaping himself into someone better than before.


    "Now," the Gatekeeper said, voice deeper, "we must set your starting parameters. You shall be reborn. Let your Status screen reflect these choices."


    [System Notification]


    Reincarnation Status Initialization


    Base Stats (Average Noble Child): STR: 1, END: 1, DEX: 1, INT: 1, WIS: 1, LCK: 1


    Applying Chosen Cards¡­


    From The Magician: +10 INT, +5 DEX


    From Death: Growth modifiers improved


    From The Emperor: +10 STR, +10 END


    New Base Stats: STR: 1 +10 = 11 END: 1 +10 = 11


    DEX: 1 +5 = 6 INT: 1 +10 = 11 WIS: 1 (No direct bonus, but improved growth) LCK: 1 (No direct bonus yet)


    Skills Gained: [Arcane Glimmer Lv.1] ¨C Minor magical utility. [Awakened Potential] ¨C Hidden growth. [Battlefield Focus Lv.1] ¨C Temporary combat boost.


    Traits Gained: [Resourceful Mind], [Rebirth''s Edge], [Commanding Presence], [Insight Through Pain], [Guiding Light]


    Passive Bonuses:


    +5% EXP from unconventional methods (Magician) Transformation, curses reversed over time (Death)


    Leadership and martial respect (Emperor)


    Final Adjustments Complete.


    The Gatekeeper clapped slowly. "Your canvas is prepared, Reborn One. Remember: Fate can be kind or cruel. Seek balance and seize your destiny."


    Danarre''s thoughts swirled. Strong starting stats for a child. He''d be formidable, but the world might not expect that.


    He wondered where he''d be born. Noble child, it said¡ªhe''d have a family this time, one that might shape him. He promised himself not to be stepped on again.


    The Gatekeeper swept the cards into the deck, then placed the deck in a small black box. "One final offering," it said.


    "Between these three tokens, choose one boon to carry with you. It will manifest in subtle ways. Choose wisely."


    Three tokens appeared floating in the darkness:


    A small iron key.


    A tattered parchment scroll.


    A dull gemstone, cracked in half.


    Danarre considered these silently.


    [System Notification: Choose a Boon]


    Iron Key: Unlocks hidden opportunities or dungeons early.


    Tattered Scroll: Grants a secret technique once conditions are met.


    Cracked Gemstone: Absorbs a portion of incoming damage once per day, potentially saving your life at a crucial moment.


    Survival, hidden technique, or early opportunities? He remembered dying, cornered, wishing he had a trump card.


    The cracked gemstone might buy him a second chance. But the scroll could offer a technique to turn tides. The key might open forbidden doors.


    He took the cracked gemstone. Life was precious. He wouldn''t waste a second chance by dying before he could get stronger.


    [System Notification] You have chosen the Cracked Gemstone.


    Trait: [Soulshield Fragment] (Once per day, nullify a lethal blow, leaving you at 1 HP.)


    Perfect.


    The Gatekeeper inclined its head. "Your path is set. You shall awaken anew, in a world where swords and thunder dance, where noble bloodlines define destiny. Go forth and prove your worth."


    Danarre felt a pulling sensation, as if a great invisible hand were dragging him away. The Gatekeeper began to fade, the table vanishing like mist. The darkness swirled with distant lights.


    Before everything faded, the Gatekeeper spoke once more: "Remember: power alone is not enough. You must wield it with cunning, purpose, and sometimes mercy. We shall watch."


    [System Notification]


    Reincarnation Process Initiating¡­


    Timer: 3¡­ 2¡­ 1¡­


    Danarre tried to smile, tried to feel the shape of his new face he didn''t have yet. He felt hope and a feral determination.


    This time he wouldn''t die in some forsaken ruin surrounded by nobodies. He would rise above the petty wars, the betrayals.


    He would carve his name in stone and thunder.


    A final whisper from the Gatekeeper: "We will meet again, at the final toll of fate''s bell."


    Then blinding light.


    He drifted, weightless, through a kaleidoscope of pale blues and gentle golds. He heard distant voices¡ªmuffled but kind. Was he hearing midwives? Attendants?


    He felt warmth and softness. Suddenly, there was a rush of sensation: the scent of linen, the hush of a quiet room.


    He was being born,reborn, into the world.


    But in his mind, he still saw the cards, still felt their powers imprinted on his soul. He had chosen The Magician, Death, and The Emperor.


    He had accepted The Hanged Man and The Star. He carried the cracked gemstone within the fabric of his being.


    And etched deep in his new soul were the system''s words:


    [System Notification] Welcome to your new life, Danarre. May your path be long and victorious.


    As cries (his cries) filled the room, and muffled voices exclaimed over the newborn child, Danarre knew this life would be different.


    He would shape destiny, not be crushed by it.


    And somewhere beyond mortal sight, the Gatekeeper and the God of Death looked on, curious to see how this child of tarot and blood would fare in a world where thunder and steel reigned supreme.

 The Good Son

    Crying. Danarre''s own voice, high-pitched and infantile, filled the quiet chamber. He recognized it was his new body wailing¡ªa startling reversal from the gruff war cries he''d once unleashed.


    Disoriented, he tried to open his eyes, and everything came as blurry shapes, warm lights, and muffled voices. He was no longer a phantom soul in the void, no longer floating before the Gatekeeper of Souls.


    He was alive, reborn into flesh and bone.


    What struck him first was the sense of warmth. Fine linens wrapped his tiny body, and the scent of something like lavender drifted through the air.


    Voices murmured softly. He tried to make sense of them.


    "Another son," a woman''s voice said, cultured and calm. Not his mother''s voice from memory¡ªno, that was long gone. This voice was unfamiliar and crisp. "Healthy lungs on him."


    "Bring him here," commanded a deeper tone, resonant and stern.


    Danarre blinked, struggling to focus. Two figures leaned over him.


    One, a woman in elegant attire¡ªmaybe a midwife or a noble retainer. The other was a man with broad shoulders, dressed in a dark, embroidered robe.


    Despite his blurred vision, Danarre felt the presence of authority radiating from this figure. This must be the patriarch, the one known as Lord Hendric de Blaise.


    [System Notification]


    Name: Danarre de Blaise (Infant)


    Race: Human (Noble Bloodline)


    HP: 15/15


    MP: 5/5


    Status: [Healthy], [Newborn]


    Stats: STR:11, END:11, DEX:6, INT:11, WIS:1, LCK:1


    Skills: [Arcane Glimmer Lv.1], [Awakened Potential], [Battlefield Focus Lv.1 (Locked)]


    Traits: [Resourceful Mind], [Rebirth''s Edge], [Commanding Presence], [Insight Through Pain], [Guiding Light], [Soulshield Fragment]


    Modifiers Active: Enhanced Growth, Curses Reverse Over Time


    Danarre''s mind reeled. It was all real, all still intact. He had carried over those boons chosen before rebirth.


    A newborn with formidable stats compared to an average baby¡ªthough that meant little without training or maturity. Still, this was a potent foundation.


    He tried to laugh, which only resulted in another tiny cry. At least he had the system. At least he was Danarre, not some blank slate.


    "Clarisse''s child," the man said, voice steady. "He has her eyes."


    Clarisse. The favored concubine? The one whom the father truly cared about?


    Danarre''s memory of the Gatekeeper''s words was hazy, but he recalled something about being born to a favored woman. He couldn''t turn his head well yet, but he tried to see if there was any sign of her.


    Only the midwife and the patriarch were clearly visible.


    "He''s strong, my lord," said the midwife gently. "He didn''t struggle as the others did. He came into this world rather calmly, and only now he cries. Unusual."


    Hendric de Blaise, the father, leaned in close. Danarre could make out hard lines in that face¡ªan angular jaw, stern brow, steel-gray eyes.


    There was strength there, competence, and something else: a measured coldness. This man was not the type to shower anyone with tenderness.


    Still, Danarre sensed a certain intensity in the way Hendric observed him.


    "He looks¡­ promising," Hendric said at last.


    [System Notification]


    You have encountered: Hendric de Blaise (Patriarch, Swordmaster)


    Warning: Aura Pressure detected!


    Your infant body trembles instinctively in presence of a high-level individual.


    Danarre''s tiny form shuddered. He felt it¡ªthe sheer weight of Hendric''s power pressing down.


    He couldn''t even sit up, but his soul, tempered by mercenary battles and reincarnation, recognized this kind of aura. This was a man who could decimate opponents at will.


    A monster in human skin.


    The midwife stepped back, allowing another figure to approach. A woman dressed in fine silk robes, tall and elegant, regarded the newborn.


    This must be Lady Julianna de Blaise, the main consort¡ªthe one who would not particularly love seeing a concubine''s child favored by Hendric. Julianna''s eyes narrowed slightly, but her tone remained polite.


    "A fine child," she said coolly. "May he grow strong."


    Danarre would have smirked if he had control of his facial muscles. The tension in that voice was palpable.


    He already sensed family politics before he could crawl. Perfect. This was going to be a battlefield of another sort.


    "Let the record show: Danarre de Blaise is born healthy," Hendric said. "Do the initial test."


    A servant rushed forward with a small crystal sphere. The midwife took Danarre''s tiny hand and pressed it gently against the orb.


    It felt cool against his skin. He had no idea what it was supposed to measure, but he guessed something like aura or elemental aptitude.


    [System Notification]


    Bloodline Test Initiated¡­


    Scanning Potential¡­


    The crystal glowed faintly blue, then a flicker of white lightning danced inside it. The midwife gasped softly.


    Hendric''s eyebrows rose a fraction. Julianna''s lips tightened.


    Danarre didn''t understand all the nuances, but lightning likely signified an affinity for the family''s signature "Thunder Arts." That was good. Or at least, it might keep him alive and acknowledged.


    "Thunder alignment," Hendric said, voice quiet. "At his first breath. Impressive."


    He turned away, robes whispering against the floor. Julianna followed him, but not without a final glance at Danarre¡ªsomewhere between resignation and mild irritation.


    The doors closed softly behind them, leaving Danarre with the midwife and a few silent attendants.


    The midwife stroked Danarre''s head gently. "Your mother was a sweet soul," she murmured. "The lord is pleased with you, child. May the gods keep you safe."


    So his mother was gone. Danarre had suspected as much. He''d have to rely on his own cunning.


    He''d been given a body with strong starting attributes and some magical potential. He was in a noble family famous for swordsmanship.


    This was a dream start compared to a dying mercenary cornered in a ruin.


    Exhausted by the testing, Danarre closed his eyes. He would need rest. Babies slept a lot.


    He''d have plenty of time to scheme once he could at least hold his head up.


    Time Skip: Six Months LaterThis text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    The world had taken on sharper focus. Danarre could now see the embroidered tapestries on the walls of his nursery, detect subtle perfumes worn by his caretakers, and even recognize the distinct footsteps of different servants.


    He could roll over, sit up with some effort, and babble nonsense that he carefully modulated to sound harmless. No one expected an infant to be plotting future conquests, after all.


    Over these months, the system occasionally gave him subtle prompts.


    [System Notification]


    Daily Growth Check: Minor stat increments.


    STR +0.1


    DEX +0.1


    END +0.1


    INT +0.05


    WIS +0.01


    LCK +0.0 (No change)


    Cumulative increases over months had begun to nudge his stats upward, but he remained careful. He had [Awakened Potential] which should grant better growth when training eventually began.


    For now, he was stuck as a babe.


    Sometimes, when no one watched, he tried to use [Arcane Glimmer]. A soft sparkle of light, a tiny swirl of harmless color.


    If caught, he could pass it off as a trick of sunlight. He practiced at night under the covers, focusing mana from an infant''s tiny pool.


    [System Notification]


    [Arcane Glimmer Lv.1 ¡ú Lv.2]


    Minor magical effects slightly improved.


    Good. He wanted this skill leveled before formal training. Magic was frowned upon in pure sword families, but if he kept it secret, he''d have an ace.


    Occasionally, servants came to feed and care for him. He learned their names:


    Midwife Aveline, who was kind and told him stories as if he understood; Guard Marcel, who stood by the door and always checked in with a soft grunt;


    Nanny Isbel, who fed him mashed fruits and complained about the other nobles in hushed tones, unaware that he comprehended more than she could guess.


    He also caught glimpses of siblings. They rarely came near the nursery, but he overheard their names and voices:


    Alberic, eldest son, spoke with a deep, commanding tone. He didn''t bother with babies.


    Marleine, the eldest daughter, once peeked through the doorway, muttered something about "another competitor," and left.


    Emiline, curious and quiet, once came in when Aveline was changing sheets. She looked at him with wide, curious eyes, then hurried away when footsteps approached.


    Danarre cataloged all these impressions. This was a world of politics and power. The older he got, the more dangerous it would become.


    He needed to grow strong. He needed to ensure he surpassed these siblings who would see him as a rival.


    At Eight Months Old


    One night, Danarre awakened to hushed whispers outside his nursery. Candlelight danced under the door. He strained his ears.


    "¡­the lord wants him tested again," said a voice, male and nervous.


    "Already? He''s just an infant," replied another, female, perhaps Aveline. "It''s too soon."


    "It''s not our choice. Lord Hendric says that if the boy shows early thunder resonance, he wants to know. Take him to the training hall at dawn."


    Training hall? Was Hendric mad? Danarre was just a baby.


    But this could be an opportunity. If he somehow displayed even a fraction of control over aura, he could earn more respect¡ªor at least not be discarded.


    At dawn, Aveline gently scooped Danarre up and carried him through corridors he had never seen before. The estate was grand: marble floors, tall windows, tapestries depicting battles and lightning-struck swords.


    Eventually, they reached a smaller chamber off the main training grounds. The walls were hung with wooden practice swords and old targets.


    The smell of sweat and steel lingered.


    Hendric stood waiting, arms folded, alongside a robed figure Danarre hadn''t seen before. Possibly a family retainer or a tutor.


    Aveline placed Danarre on a soft cushion.


    "Your assignment," Hendric said, voice clipped, "is to gauge his aura sensitivity. He is too young to wield a blade, of course, but we can test reaction."


    The robed figure nodded, pulling out a small wand topped with a crystal shard. He knelt by Danarre, muttering an incantation.


    Danarre focused. If he had thunder alignment, could he feel it now?


    A crackle of energy swirled around the wand. Danarre felt the hairs on his tiny arms stand on end. The magic prickled his skin.


    He thought of [Arcane Glimmer], the quiet training he''d done. He tried to summon just a hint of aura, or at least show some reaction that would please Hendric.


    A faint spark danced on the wand''s crystal, then leaped to his tiny finger, making him flinch.


    The robed figure gasped. "Incredible. He''s responding. The child senses the aura."


    Hendric''s eyes narrowed slightly. "Very well. I want a full report."


    [System Notification]


    Your natural thunder resonance has been confirmed.


    +5 EXP.


    Insignificant EXP, but symbolic. Hendric seemed satisfied. He left the chamber, robes swirling.


    The robed figure and Aveline followed, leaving Danarre momentarily alone.


    He tried to lift his hand. His body was still weak, but inside he felt a tiny coil of power. Growing. Waiting.


    At One Year Old


    Danarre could crawl swiftly now, pull himself to stand against low furniture. He formed basic sounds¡ª"Da," "Ba," and so forth¡ªwhich he carefully limited to not reveal how much he understood.


    He had begun to understand that he was part of the main de Blaise lineage, but somewhat marginal: a son born from a favored concubine who died. That gave him a strange position.


    Not the main heir, but not entirely disposable, either.


    Hendric visited occasionally, always brief and businesslike. Julianna never came alone, but sometimes Danarre heard her voice in the corridor.


    Servants whispered that Julianna felt uneasy about the boy. Perhaps she feared he might gain Hendric''s favor over her own children. Good.


    Fear could be a currency.


    To gain power, Danarre needed training. He was still a baby, but he tried to strengthen himself.


    He crawled more than necessary, pushed his limits to increase [END]. He mentally repeated words and concepts to sharpen [INT].


    He focused on the subtle energies in his body at night, attempting to sense aura flows. He cast [Arcane Glimmer] in secret, now stable enough to produce a small orb of flickering light that he smothered behind blankets.


    [System Notification]


    [Arcane Glimmer Lv.2 ¡ú Lv.3]


    Effect: Minor illusions now possible (soundless, flickering images).


    Illusions? Even if weak, that might be useful someday to fool tutors or siblings. He stored that knowledge away.


    One afternoon, while playing "helpless infant" on the nursery rug, he heard voices approaching. He stilled, pretending to be fascinated by a wooden toy.


    The door opened. Marleine and Emiline stepped in. They must have thought he was too young to understand or protest.


    "Father says he has potential," Marleine said softly. She picked up a rattle and shook it at Danarre. He feigned delight, reaching stubby arms out.


    Inside, he studied her. Tall, elegant, with eyes as cold as jewels. "I wonder if he''ll matter at all."


    Emiline, quieter, knelt beside him. "He''s different," she said. "I feel¡­ something about him. Like a spark waiting to ignite."


    Marleine sniffed. "Don''t get attached. Father''s favorites shift with the wind. If he doesn''t grow into something useful, he''ll be forgotten like so many others."


    They left, and Danarre watched them go, mind racing. So even as a baby, he was under scrutiny. Perfect.


    He liked having a spotlight¡ªgave him a chance to prove himself.


    At Eighteen Months Old


    His body stronger, Danarre could stand and even take a few shaky steps. Nanny Isbel applauded each tiny milestone.


    He pretended to giggle and clap his hands, playing the part of a normal child, all while calculating how best to use his abilities when real training began.


    Sometimes he used [Arcane Glimmer] to make small sparks and lights in the corner of the nursery, amusing himself. He kept it subtle.


    If discovered, using magic might cause issues¡ªthis was a sword clan, after all, and they frowned on mana use. But he was careful.


    [System Notification]


    Hidden Condition Met: First Year of Life Completed


    You have survived early infancy in a noble house. +10 EXP.


    Your [Awakened Potential] trait slightly increases stat growth.


    Stats were edging upwards slowly. He guessed he might be stronger than normal toddlers. He felt bursts of energy when he tried to push himself.


    This was good¡ªhe''d need every advantage.


    Aveline brought him to a courtyard one sunny morning. Only she and a guard accompanied him. The grass smelled fresh, the sky clear.


    A perfect day to test his legs. He walked a few steps, stumbled, but quickly regained balance.


    The guard raised an eyebrow¡ªmaybe surprised at the boy''s rapid progress.


    Danarre spotted a training dummy leaning against a distant wall. Obviously, he couldn''t wield a sword yet, but he considered how nice it would be to punch something.


    He crawled over to a fallen branch and lifted it. The guard chuckled.


    Danarre swung the branch clumsily at the ground. The guard smiled, thinking it just baby play, but Danarre was visualizing strikes and footwork he once knew as a mercenary.


    In time, he would get a real sword. He would refine the thunder arts. He would incorporate magic.


    He had years ahead, but his determination burned bright.


    At Two Years Old


    Speech came more easily now. He began to say simple words.


    "Aveline," "Hungry," "Da," "Pa." The servants praised his quick learning. Hendric tested him again.


    Another aura test with the crystal. This time Danarre tried to focus his will on making the lightning inside the crystal flare brighter.


    It sparked enough that Hendric nodded in approval.


    [System Notification]


    You have gained minor acknowledgment from Hendric de Blaise.


    Bond slightly improved.


    +20 EXP.


    He triggered a mental Status check:


    [Status Update]


    Name: Danarre de Blaise (Toddler)


    HP: 40/40


    MP: 10/10


    STR: ~12.5 (rounded down)


    END: ~12.5


    DEX: ~7.5


    INT: ~11.5


    WIS: ~1.2


    LCK: ~1.0


    Skills: [Arcane Glimmer Lv.3], [Awakened Potential], [Battlefield Focus Lv.1 (Locked until adolescence)]


    Traits: (List as before)


    Progress was slow but steady. The biggest boon was that he had a plan, and he had the system.


    One afternoon, Lord Hendric himself came to the nursery. A rare event. He waved Aveline away and stood before Danarre, arms folded.


    Danarre stood on slightly wobbly legs, looking up at the towering figure of his father.


    "You carry my blood," Hendric said, voice low. "Your mother was dear to me, and I see flickers of her kindness in your eyes. But know this: the de Blaise family does not thrive on kindness alone."


    "We forge power, demand excellence, and cull the weak. You must be strong, or your life will be unremarkable."


    Danarre stared, feigning childlike innocence. Inside, he was grinning. If the old man only knew the warrior''s soul locked behind these toddler eyes.


    Hendric leaned closer, lowering his voice. "You will begin basic footwork drills as soon as you can hold a wooden sword. No excuses. No failures."


    "Your siblings will not give you mercy. Nor will I."


    Danarre babbled a nonsense syllable, just enough to look cute. Hendric narrowed his eyes, then turned and walked away.


    When the door closed, Danarre clenched his tiny fists. Perfect. Training was coming sooner or later.


    With his stats, his awakened potential, and secret magic, he would grow into something none of them expected. He had survived death, chosen his destiny through the tarot, and now stood at the threshold of a life where he could surpass the power he once only dreamed of.


    He would not remain a helpless child forever. The path ahead shimmered with promise¡ªand danger.


    Family politics, siblings vying for heirship, the looming threat of some monstrous dungeon or a god-aspiring villain beyond the horizons he had yet to see. All awaited him, but he had time.


    He had will.


    And he would seize every advantage this second life offered.

 4. Towards the Future

    Time passed over the de Blaise estate without ceremony. Each day, servants followed fixed routines, guards completed their drills, and senior retainers maintained quiet vigilance in the corridors.


    The estate, neither fully a castle nor a mere manor, combined an inherited martial legacy with the daily business of noble administration. Within its stone walls, sons and daughters of the de Blaise lineage were expected to walk and show discipline far earlier than children of lesser birth.


    As a matter of course, no one remarked on Danarre''s early physical development. His ability to stand and move steadily well before two years of age was simply what a direct descendant of Lord Hendric should achieve.


    Danarre took advantage of these low expectations of childhood and the high expectations of lineage. He now walked confidently across the inner courtyard''s side yard, a small enclosed space where a few ornamental trees grew and a spare training dummy stood in need of repair.


    He reached it without stumbling, his eyes fixed on the worn target as if it were a challenge.


    Aveline, assigned to oversee him, understood that the patriarch demanded strength. Danarre''s steady gait and determination did not alarm her, if anything, it pleased her, assuring that no one would find fault in how she cared for him.


    She made no attempt to distract him. For a child of de Blaise, they were meant for more than toys.


    Instead, a simple wooden training sword rested against a low bench. Unusual for one so young, perhaps, but no one questioned its presence in a household where every child was expected to wield a weapon.


    Danarre gripped the wooden sword, testing its weight. It was crude and small, but balanced enough for a beginner.


    He understood that none would hand him a real blade yet, but this surrogate tool allowed him to develop technique. He recalled, through the haze of his past life''s memories, basic stances and swings.


    He tried them now, adjusting his posture to keep his center of gravity low and his elbows in. Early attempts were shaky.


    A few swings were off-mark. Still, he did not stop. Repetition and patience would set a foundation for future mastery.


    Among the guards and servants who came and went, a lesser knight-in-training, more squire than knight, named Danzing took particular notice. Danzing was assigned to minor duties, such as inspecting the practice fields or carrying messages between more prominent warriors.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    He had no great status in the household, but he was diligent, eager to prove himself, and curious by nature. He paused in mid-step when he saw the child swinging a wooden sword with unwavering focus.


    Danzing approached quietly, standing at a respectful distance. He observed Danarre''s stance, noting how the boy tried to compensate for a body still small and lacking full strength.


    It was awkward, but not aimless. Danarre''s eyes narrowed each time he re-centered his footing, as if evaluating his own technique.


    This was no ordinary toddler flailing a stick around. There was intent here.


    The squire felt a knot form in his throat. He had expected to serve one of Hendric''s heirs one day, but imagined it would be long after their tutors and masters taught them the rudiments of swordsmanship.


    Yet here stood Danarre, barely speaking, hardly more than an infant, practicing as if he understood the path of the blade already. No one had instructed him.


    No formal lesson had begun. And yet, he trained.


    Danzing''s grip on the strap of his satchel tightened. He realized that this child, already pushing beyond normal boundaries, might one day be the lord he served.


    If he lived that long.


    If Danarre possessed this kind of genius at such a young age, what heights would he reach by adolescence? The squire could only imagine.


    The very idea stirred a sense of loyalty in him. He would watch over this boy''s progress and assist if given the chance. To help shape a future master swordsman and earn his trust, that would be a worthy goal.


    As Danarre continued practicing, his legs trembled slightly from exertion, and his arms grew sore, but he did not show weakness. He only paused occasionally to adjust his stance or wipe a bead of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.


    The efforts did not go unrewarded. Each night, when he rested, the system he carried within him registered incremental gains.


    Day by day, he made minute progress in strength, endurance, and dexterity. He had no skill notifications yet¡ªno grand leaps in ability¡ªbut the foundation was there.


    He sensed it, a quiet accumulation of potential waiting to be unleashed.


    Word of his efforts spread quietly among the household staff. Servants and lesser retainers might rumorr about the youngest de Blaise child who trained alone in the side yard.


    Most kept their voices low. It was too early to form bold opinions.


    Some recall Lord Hendric as a man who would appreciate such early initiative. Others simply found it curious. Danzing, for his part, told no one what he felt.


    He chose to guard his impressions closely, resolving to serve faithfully and prove his own worth should the opportunity arise.


    At the day''s end, as dusk settled over the estate and the inner courtyard grew quiet, Danarre released the wooden sword. He flexed his fingers, feeling the strain in his arms.


    Though no official accolades awaited him, he knew that each hour spent drilling brought him closer to the future he envisioned. He had no need for praise.


    His growth and survival were their own rewards.


    He had time. He had will. No one had to tell him his next steps, he would learn, adapt, and grow stronger.


    Danarre closed his eyes to rest, while elsewhere in the estate, Danzing and others considered the future and which sons and daughters of the de Blaise line they would one day support.

 5. The First Wetting

    Time passed, as it always did. The de Blaise estate shifted through seasons of quiet tension and silent rivalries.


    Danarre grew from a stumbling toddler into a boy who could hold a wooden sword with steady hands. He was nearly five now, old enough that certain family traditions demanded more than pampered upbringing and carefully measured praise.


    He''d seen hints of what awaited him: hushed whispers among servants, older siblings sharpening blades, distant cousins arriving from outlying fiefs in grim silence. Something was coming, a ritual that belonged to the de Blaise legacy.


    He felt it in the air, a tautness that crept through the halls and courtyards. Guards polished their armor more diligently, minor nobles and vassals drifted in bearing unfamiliar heraldry.


    At dusk, Danarre glimpsed servants carrying crates of chains and wheeled cages draped in heavy cloth. Whatever this test was, it would be no gentle lesson.


    It was a gray morning when the summons came. Aveline, the kind midwife-turned-nanny, awakened him at dawn.


    Instead of his usual fine silks, she dressed him in plain, sturdy training garb: linen trousers, a sleeveless tunic, soft leather shoes. A simple wooden sword with a reinforced hilt was placed in his hand, and a small wooden buckler was strapped to his forearm.


    Both were sized for a child but well-made.


    Aveline knelt to meet his eyes. "Young master Danarre, today is the test of the first wetting. Be strong. Show them what you can do."


    He blinked. The name was unfamiliar. "First wetting?"


    She hesitated, as if unsure how much to reveal. Then she whispered, "It is an old tradition of the de Blaise family. All children under six years of age who bear the blood or serve under its banner face it. You will be tested by creatures set loose in the yard. Survive, fight well, and prove your worth."


    "Do we fight each other?" Danarre asked softly. He remembered hearing something different before, but perhaps that was a misunderstanding.


    Aveline shook her head. "No, not this time. You are too young for that. The family tradition for direct combat between kin, the second wetting, is reserved for when you''re older. Today, you stand beside children of your blood and vassals'' offspring. Today, the beasts are your foes."


    Danarre felt relief mingle with tension. Fighting fellow children, some older and larger, would have been problematic.


    Fighting beasts was still terrifying, but at least he didn''t have to worry about betrayal from the ones at his side. Perhaps cooperation might help.


    Aveline led him through unfamiliar corridors. The estate''s far eastern quadrant was seldom visited by the youngest children, too harsh, too cold.


    The stone passages were lit by sparse torches. He smelled straw and iron.


    They exited into a large courtyard with high stone walls and raised wooden stands along the perimeter. The sky overhead was a dull gray, as if ashamed of what was about to unfold.


    Danarre was not alone. Around twenty children stood in the yard.


    Boys and girls, some from the main line, some from collateral branches, some clearly bastards acknowledged but never favored. Others bore subtle signs of vassalage, the crest of loyal knights or lesser nobles sworn to de Blaise.


    All were under six, from as young as four to nearly six, dressed in plain training garb, armed with wooden weapons. Spears, swords, short clubs.


    Some clutched small shields or wore padded vests that looked too large.


    There was nervous whispering. A five-year-old girl with curly brown hair tried to steady her wooden spear, knuckles white.


    A boy with a bandaged arm fidgeted, glancing at the stands. Danarre spotted a pair of twins huddled together, whispering reassurances.


    He looked up. The stands were filled with older siblings, parents, uncles, aunts, and Senate cousins.


    Hendric de Blaise himself stood at a high platform, clad in a dark, elegant robe lined with silver thread. His stern face surveyed the yard.


    Lady Julianna stood at his side, expression cold and unreadable. Danarre''s older siblings were there too: Alberic, Marleine, Dorian, Victeur, Emiline, Fredric, and Clarisene.


    They were silent, observing. No cheers of encouragement. No tender smiles.


    Just watchful eyes measuring the worth of those below.


    A hush fell as Hendric raised a hand. His voice, clear and resonant, rolled over the courtyard: "Children of the de Blaise lineage, of our collateral kin, and of loyal households sworn to us, hear me. Today, you undertake the test of the first wetting, an ancient rite that separates those fit to bear arms under our banner from those who merely share our blood and name."


    He paused. The children stiffened. Danarre tried to keep his grip steady on the wooden sword''s hilt.


    "You are young," Hendric continued, "but youth does not spare you from the responsibilities of our house. Strength, courage, and wit are demanded at all stages of life. Today, you shall face beasts of increasing ferocity. Show me that you can stand your ground, strike true, and survive. If you fail, you shall not die, our healers stand ready, but know that failure will mark your future as lesser."


    Julianna''s voice, softer but still carrying, added: "No child here will raise arms against another. Cooperate if you wish, or stand alone. The choice is yours. But understand this: weakness is remembered. Those who cower or cry for mercy will find little favor in the years ahead."


    Danarre exhaled slowly. He glanced around. Cooperation might be key.


    He was only five, smaller than some, but he had trained in secret, honing footwork and a bit of aura sensing.


    He also carried a secret weapon.


    [Arcane Glimmer].


    A mild illusion spell he could use to distract beasts. But he must be careful, magic was frowned upon.


    He''d mask it as sunlight or coincidence if possible.


    The heavy iron gate at the far end of the courtyard rumbled open. From inside the dark passage, he heard snarls and scraping claws.


    [System Notification] Event Triggered: Test of the First Wetting (Stage 1)


    Objective: Survive the waves of beasts. Impress the patriarch. Restrictions: No inter-child combat. Rewards: EXP, increased status, potential familial recognition.


    A figure emerged, an estate beast-handler in leather armor, guiding two large cages on wheels. The handler''s face was hidden behind a metal visor.


    He positioned the cages at the center, then pulled a lever. Bars slid open with a clang.


    Children gasped. Danarre tightened his grip.


    The first creatures were small but vicious: three horned scuttlers, dog-sized reptiles with bony horns protruding from their heads and sharp talons scraping the ground.


    Their eyes gleamed yellow. They hissed, darting from side to side, testing the air.


    A boy near Danarre squeaked, taking a step back. Another child raised her spear, trembling.


    Danarre noticed a girl with short black hair shift her footing, preparing to strike if the creatures lunged.


    Hendric''s voice boomed: "Stage one: Horned Scuttlers. Show no fear."


    No adult came to help. The scuttlers spread out, one charging at a cluster of children on the left, another circling to the right, the last lingering near Danarre''s group, flicking a forked tongue.


    A boy with a wooden club shouted, "Circle it! Don''t let it isolate you!" Another girl cried, "Hit the eyes!"


    Danarre decided to move. He stepped forward, shield raised.


    The scuttler near him hissed, lunged. He raised his shield, felt a jarring impact as horns scraped the wood.


    The scuttler tried to claw around the shield''s edge.


    He seized the moment, swinging his sword down at the creature''s foreleg. The blade bounced off tough scales, but the impact made it recoil.


    Another child, a vassal''s daughter, judging by her simple crest, stabbed her short spear at the creature''s flank. The scuttler shrieked and twisted away.


    On the stands, voices murmured. Emiline leaned forward, fascinated.


    Alberic, older and composed, remarked quietly to Marleine: "The young ones are holding formation better than last year''s batch."


    Marleine smirked. "That one with the sword and shield, that''s Danarre, father''s concubine''s child, right? He''s smaller but not panicking."


    Emiline nodded slightly, remembering Danarre''s unexpected cunning in previous private encounters. She said nothing, just watched with keen interest.


    Back in the yard, Danarre feinted a strike high, causing the scuttler to lift its head. The vassal girl seized the opening, ramming her spear into the creature''s neck.


    A gush of dark fluid spattered the dirt. The scuttler convulsed and collapsed.


    [System Notification]


    Enemy Defeated (Assisted Kill): Horned Scuttler +20 EXP


    The girl glanced at Danarre. He gave a small nod. Unspoken alliance.


    He would remember this.


    The other two scuttlers caused chaos on the opposite side. One boy cried out as claws raked his forearm.


    Another swung a wooden sword wildly, forcing the creature back. Eventually, two older five-year-olds pinned a scuttler against the wall, battering it until it went limp.


    The last scuttler tried to flee but was cornered by a cluster of determined children. A flurry of strikes ended it.


    Hendric''s voice rang out: "Stage one complete. You have tasted blood. Good."


    A servant rushed in, dragging the scuttler carcasses away. The children panted, relieved but shaken.


    Some bore scratches. None were gravely injured, yet.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    Danarre flexed his fingers. He''d gained confidence. Working with others helped.


    He also noticed that many children now eyed him with subtle respect, as if he''d shown a cool head. That might encourage them to follow his lead if needed.


    The iron gate rattled again. The handler returned, pulling another cage.


    Inside: something larger, heavier. With a dramatic flourish, the bars rose, revealing a tusked boar-like creature the size of a small pony.


    Its hide was thick, tusks curved upward, and its eyes burned with feral cunning.


    A hush fell among the children. This beast looked tougher, and there was only one.


    Could they swarm it?


    Hendric called down: "Stage two: Ironback Boar. It is said these creatures can topple grown men. Let us see if you children can fell one with your wooden arms."


    The boar snorted, pawing the ground, and then charged straight at a knot of children who stood too close together. They scattered with screams.


    The boar''s tusk caught one boy''s leg, drawing blood. He cried out, limping away.


    Danarre''s heart hammered. The beast was strong, maybe too strong.


    But it couldn''t face all of them at once if they coordinated. He stepped forward, raising his voice as best a five-year-old could: "Get behind it! Hit from sides!"


    A few nearby children glanced at him. They looked uncertain, frightened.


    But one or two nodded. The vassal girl who helped him before circled left, another boy circled right, trying to flank the boar.


    The boar spun, nearly trampling a smaller girl. Danarre rushed in, shield raised.


    He slammed the shield against the beast''s shoulder. It felt like hitting a wall.


    The boar snorted and turned, swinging its tusks. Danarre ducked, barely avoiding a goring.


    From the stands, Victeur murmured, "Look at them scurry. Like mice around a cat." Marleine shrugged. "They are young. Still, a few show promise." Julianna folded her hands. "That boy, Danarre, tries to give orders. Interesting. Let us see if any listen."


    Down below, some children did listen. The twin girls, about four and a half, overcame their fear and darted in to poke at the boar''s hindquarters with blunt spears.


    The creature roared, turning away from Danarre. That gave him an opening.


    He rushed forward, summoning a tiny [Arcane Glimmer]. He made it flicker near the boar''s eye, a bright spark like sunlight off a blade.


    The beast flinched, distracted.


    [System Notification]


    [Arcane Glimmer Lv.5 ¡ú Lv.6]


    Minor illusions refined. Slightly easier to control direction of flicker.


    Seizing the moment, Danarre swung his wooden sword with all his might at the back of the beast''s neck. The weapon struck with a dull thud.


    Not enough to kill, but it made the boar jerk forward, stumbling into the waiting spears of two older cousins. Another child jabbed from the side.


    The beast roared, shaking its head violently.


    A boy with a stout club leaped onto a low crate and jumped off it to bring his club down on the boar''s skull. Crack.


    The beast staggered. More strikes followed: careful, desperate teamwork.


    With a final squeal, the ironback boar collapsed. The children stepped back, breathing hard.


    Some trembled. One girl cried silently, tears streaming, though she hadn''t fled.


    Another boy clenched his jaw, trying to hide that he''d wet himself.


    [System Notification]


    Stage Two Complete: Ironback Boar Defeated


    +50 EXP (Assisted Kill) Reputation among young participants improved.


    The stands murmured approval. Hendric raised a hand for silence. "Better. You learn to cooperate against stronger prey. But this test is not done. Show me more."


    Servants again cleared the corpse. A pair of healers tended the wounded boy''s leg quickly, bandaging him on the spot and allowing him to remain if he could stand.


    He tried to be brave, nodding through tears.


    Danarre wiped sweat from his brow. His arm ached from the strain, and his shield bore scratches.


    He wondered how many stages there would be.


    The gate groaned open once more. This time, two cages were brought forth side by side.


    The beast-handler seemed to take pleasure in their fear, pausing dramatically before opening the cages.


    Hendric''s voice: "Stage three. Few make it look graceful. Let us see how you fare against Stormcats."


    Stormcats? Danarre''s eyes widened. He''d heard servants mention them, feline predators as tall as a grown man''s waist, known for their speed and razor claws.


    Releasing them against children under six seemed cruel, but that was the de Blaise way.


    The cages opened with a clang. Two sleek shapes padded out: each a blue-gray cat with tufted ears and lightning-like stripes across its back.


    Their eyes glowed faintly. Stormcats were known to channel minor static energy through their fur, delivering painful shocks on contact.


    The children tensed. Some took a step back, others tried to form a loose circle.


    Danarre''s throat felt dry. If they panicked, these cats would pick them off.


    He whispered to the vassal girl beside him, "Focus on one at a time."


    She nodded grimly. Another older cousin, about five and a half, barked orders: "Don''t bunch up! Keep moving!"


    The stormcats split up, one slinking to the left, the other to the right, trying to flank the group. Danarre realized if they got confused and scattered, the cats would isolate and maim them.


    He needed a strategy.


    He raised his voice, as loud as he dared: "Hold shields up! One group distract left cat, others flank right cat!"


    A few nearby children actually heeded him. Perhaps seeing him calm under pressure twice now earned some trust.


    Six or seven children grouped near Danarre, shield and spear forward, inching toward the cat on the right. The other dozen or so drifted left, trying to keep the second cat in view.


    The right-hand stormcat snarled, whiskers twitching, then leaped at a child in the front


    The child shrieked but held up a shield. The cat''s impact knocked the child down, sparks crackling from its fur.


    The child cried out, stunned.


    Danarre lunged in, slashing at the cat''s hind leg. His wooden blade scraped fur, earning a hiss.


    Another child jabbed at its ribs. The cat spun, lashing out with claws.


    Danarre barely raised his shield in time. Sparks of static bit into his arm, making him gasp at the sting.


    [System Notification]


    HP: 120 ¡ú 110 (Minor electrical shock) Endurance test passed. Small resistance to shock gained.


    The cat tried to retreat, but the children pressed in. One boy, tears streaming from fear, mustered courage and struck the cat''s tail.


    The creature yowled.


    Danarre stepped to the side, waiting for an opening. He summoned [Arcane Glimmer] again, creating a flicker of light at the cat''s peripheral vision.


    Distracted for a heartbeat, the cat missed the spear thrust aimed at its throat. The vassal girl''s spearhead caught the stormcat under the jaw.


    It screamed, thrashed violently, but Danarre and another child hammered at its head and neck until it went limp.


    On the other side of the yard, the second cat wreaked havoc. Children scattered, crying out as it darted among them.


    One child lay unmoving, knocked out, not dead, as a healer rushed in to pull them aside. Another boy landed a lucky hit on the cat''s shoulder, causing it to whirl on him.


    A tall, five-year-old cousin with steady hands stepped in, using a short wooden staff to strike the cat behind the ear. Another child followed with a downward slam.


    After a frantic struggle, sheer numbers overwhelmed the beast. The cat fell, legs twitching.


    Children panted, many tearful, but still standing.


    Hendric''s voice: "Stage three complete. Stormcats defeated."


    [System Notification]


    +100 EXP (Assisted kills, demonstrated leadership)


    Level Up! Current Level: 3 ¡ú 4


    Danarre felt the familiar warmth of leveling up. He stood straighter.


    He had been instrumental in each stage. Maybe Hendric noticed.


    Maybe older siblings were impressed. He dared a quick glance upward.


    Alberic frowned thoughtfully, leaning to whisper something to Dorian. Marleine crossed her arms, intrigued.


    Emiline watched quietly, lips parted, as if seeing Danarre in a new light. Julianna''s eyes narrowed slightly, unable to dismiss the boy''s growing presence.


    Hendric''s expression remained stone-like.


    Servants came to carry away the unconscious child and treat the wounded. Healers worked swiftly but without fuss.


    Another small cart of better-quality wooden weapons and leather arm-guards was brought in, allowing children to rearm or reinforce their gear. Danarre snagged a slightly sturdier sword and a second bracer.


    The vassal girl replaced her worn spear with one that had a metal cap at the tip, blunt but heavier.


    Children muttered softly among themselves.


    They dared not speak loudly, but Danarre caught snatches of conversation.


    Hendric raised a hand, silencing murmurs. "You have overcome three challenges, but none were beyond mortal ken. Now, for the final stage of the first wetting, you shall face a creature worthy of the de Blaise name. One who resonates with the element we hold dear: thunder."


    The children stiffened. Thunder element? Danarre''s heart pounded.


    A thunder-aligned beast would be deadly.


    The iron gate roared open again, this time with a louder, grating sound. The beast-handler and two assistants struggled to wheel in a large iron cage covered by a tarp.


    Sparks danced around its edges. The children felt a tingling in the air.


    The tarp was yanked off, revealing a metallic mesh cage. Inside: a Thunder Lizard, long and sinuous, about twice the length of a man''s arm, reptilian with crackling blue patterns along its scales.


    Its jaws snapped with electrical discharges. It hissed, its tail ending in a spiked club.


    Though smaller than expected, the aura it emitted felt dangerous.


    Hendric spoke: "Stage four: The Thunder Lizard. Strike it down or yield. Show me if you can face the power of lightning."


    A hush. One of the older cousins whispered, "That thing... it''s dangerous. It can shock us all at once."


    Danarre stepped forward, trying not to shake. He was tired, bruised, and his arm still tingled from the stormcat''s shocks.


    But he knew he had grown stronger. He must trust himself.


    "Surround it," he called softly, just loud enough for those near him to hear. "Spread out so it can''t blast us all at once. Aim for the head and tail, don''t let it coil and strike freely."


    The vassal girl, her face streaked with dust and tears, nodded firmly. Another boy who had watched Danarre''s calm leadership said, "I''ll go left."


    They formed a loose semicircle. The Thunder Lizard screeched as the cage opened.


    It slithered out, electricity dancing along its scales. A child tried to poke it from behind, but a whip of its tail sent sparks flying, forcing the child back with a pained cry.


    Danarre gritted his teeth. He had to use [Arcane Glimmer] carefully. The lizard might react to illusions differently.


    Still, it was their best shot. Distract, strike, retreat.


    He thought of the sequence.


    The lizard lunged at a pair of children in front, jaws wide, electricity crackling between its teeth. They scrambled away, shields raised.


    The discharge hit one shield, sending the child sprawling. Danarre took the opportunity to dash forward, feinting a strike at the creature''s flank.


    The lizard turned its head sharply toward him, eyes glowing. Perfect.


    He conjured a tiny flicker of light to its left side. The lizard snapped at empty air, confused for a split second.


    In that heartbeat, a brave boy with a club smashed down on the lizard''s tail. Another girl jabbed at its belly.


    Sparks flew, shocking them both, but they gritted their teeth and held on.


    Danarre struck at the lizard''s neck, his wooden sword impacting with a dull thud. The creature hissed, whipping around.


    He raised his shield. Pain flared as a bolt of electricity danced over him, draining his stamina.


    [System Notification]


    HP: 110 ¡ú 90 (Electrical shock)


    MP: 20 ¡ú 15 (Slight mana drain from maintaining illusions under stress)


    He staggered but remained standing. Other children pressed the attack.


    The twins from earlier harassed the lizard from behind, poking its hindquarters and ducking away from its tail swipes. Each strike seemed to weaken it, though it fought fiercely.


    The lizard coiled, trying to gather a bigger charge. Danarre saw blue arcs crackling in its mouth.


    If it released a large bolt, many could be hurt.


    He had to stop it. With a desperate yell, he charged in, shield raised high.


    Another illusion flicker near its eye made it jerk its head, misaligning its aim. Its lightning bolt fired off at an angle, scorching dirt harmlessly.


    At that moment, five children struck in unison: spears, clubs, swords, all hammering the lizard''s neck and back. The creature''s scales cracked.


    It shrieked, tail thrashing. Danarre slammed his wooden sword down again and again, fueled by adrenaline and resolve.


    Finally, the Thunder Lizard went limp, static sparks fading from its body.


    Silence. The children panted, eyes wide. They had done it.


    Hendric''s voice, clear and sharp: "Stage four complete. You have faced thunder itself and prevailed."


    [System Notification]


    Thunder Lizard Defeated!


    +200 EXP (major contribution)


    Level Up! Current Level: 4 ¡ú 5


    A warm surge of strength coursed through Danarre''s limbs. He was satisfied, but also exhaustion.


    This had been a brutal test.


    The servants and healers rushed in to tend wounds and remove the lizard''s corpse. Hendric raised his hand for silence once more, addressing the children, who stood battered and weary, but unbroken.


    "You have completed the test of the first wetting," Hendric announced. "Some of you show promise. Others merely survived. But survival itself is no small feat for those so young. Remember what you learned today: your bloodline demands strength and cunning. You have spilled the blood of beasts with wooden arms. In years to come, you will wield steel and aura to face far greater threats."


    Lady Julianna stepped forward, her tone measured: "None of you were asked to fight each other this day. The first wetting is a reminder that before you contest among yourselves, you must prove you can stand against the world''s dangers. You have done so."


    [System Notification]


    Test of the First Wetting Completed!


    Rewards: +300 EXP, increased familial recognition, improved reputation among peers.


    Danarre''s legs wobbled. Another level might be close. The experience from the final stage and completion reward surged inside him.


    [System Notification]


    Level Up! Current Level: 5 ¡ú 6


    He dared not grin openly, but inside he felt triumph. Two more levels gained here, significant stat growth, and the quiet admiration of many.


    He looked around at his fellow survivors: some cried softly now that danger had passed, others wore dazed looks. The vassal girl who fought beside him smiled shakily.


    Quietly, Danarre said to her, "We did it."


    She nodded, voice trembling, "Yes... we did."


    No adult praised them with warmth. This was not a celebration.


    It was a measurement. But Danarre could sense the subtle shifts in how everyone regarded him.


    He had offered calm guidance, used cunning illusions without being caught, and fought in the thick of danger. He had proven something today.


    From the stands, Emiline, older by a few years, watched him intently. Alberic exchanged a glance with Marleine.


    Dorian rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Even Julianna''s posture stiffened slightly.


    Hendric gazed down, expression unreadable, before turning to leave, his robes whispering over the wooden floor of the platform.


    As the spectators departed, servants guided the children toward a side exit where they would be washed, tended by healers, and given a warm meal. No one coddled them; this was a soldier''s respite, not a child''s pampering.


    Yet the meal and healing were mercies enough after such ordeals.


    Danarre stumbled along with the group, shoulders aching. He cast a final glance at the now-empty courtyard.


    Bloodstains on the dirt, shattered wood fragments, and the smell of violence lingered. A place of cruelty and growth, where he and the others took their first true step into the world of the strong.