Angelic Predator:Trust Me, I'm Sane

Elarion 3 years old:-

{Elarion pov}:-

Time passes fast.

In just a blink—I was three.

All I've done so far? Eat, poop, meditate, sleep… repeat.

Oh, and spy on my two informants—my brothers. Very important.

Today was different though.

I stood in front of the mirror, brushing down my black silk like hair.

Yes, I get ready on my own now. Since I turned three. Not because I'm shy—far from it.

The maids here are too well-trained to ever get nosy. Professional assassins in disguise. Cold hands, blank faces, no questions. Easy to ignore.

I wasn't nervous. Just… a little enthusiastic.

Today marked the beginning of my official training with Marcus Bridgelin.

After dressing up and eating my breakfast (mushroom soup again, unfortunately), I walked to the training ground behind the estate.

Every direct descendant had one of their own for private training, and another joint ground for group sparring with knights.

Every single day, without a miss. Since, even though I have talent and strong foundation if you don't have your basics clear. It is all useless.

I have learned in hell, the reason one who loss in the end isn't because of weak or anything but those who never tried enough.

I don't want to be like that and put all my belief either in my past life experience or talent.

Hell had made me mentally strong but it depends on me to make myself physically strong too....

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An hour passed.

Suddenly, a maid appeared out of nowhere like a ghost.

> "Young master," she said in her emotionless voice, "the Head has summoned you. He's on his way to the dining hall. Please prepare to meet him at lunchtime."

I gave a slight nod. No words needed. She understood and vanished after bowing slightly.

I returned to my room and bathed away the sweat. Then slipped into a simple black shirt and grey trousers. Neat, not flashy. Perfect balance.

One last glance at the mirror.

> "I'm really cute," I thought, smirking. "And devastatingly handsome. I'm only three. Imagine what I'll look like in the future."

Am I full of myself? Maybe.

But if I were someone else, I'd still admire me. After all beautiful things are to be admired right??.

Like jewels and all shiny things should be appreciated for their beauty.

---

I made my way to the dining hall. Unlike usual, where food is delivered to my room, today I was summoned.

Inside, Father sat in his usual center chair. Beside him, a man I hadn't seen in years.

I greeted them and quietly took my seat across from the stranger.

> "Come," Father said, voice low but commanding.

We ate in silence. The kind of silence that wasn't awkward—just heavy. The only sounds were utensils brushing against porcelain.

Once lunch ended, Father wiped his hands and finally spoke.

> "Your education begins tomorrow."

> "Understood."

> "Not going to ask who your instructor is?"

> "There's only one person here besides us. It's obvious," I said, glancing toward the man across from me.

He gave me a calm smile—genuine, soft.

> "Correct," Father said. "This is Marcus Bridgelin. He'll oversee your training until you turn ten."

> "I look forward to our first class, sir," I said with a slight bow of my head.

> "Me too, little one," Marcus replied, eyes filled with warmth.

Father continued, "He'll teach theory and swordsmanship. If you excel, we'll reassign a better instructor."

> "That's fine. I'll grow fast, Head," I replied firmly.

Father stared at me for a few seconds. His expression unreadable. There was something in his eyes… too faint to understand.

> "I'll take my leave. Don't disappoint me, son."

> "I won't."

As he walked away, Marcus leaned down and patted my head gently.

> "I'm happy to be your teacher," he said with a kind smile.

> "Me too," I whispered after him.

In my past life, Marcus was one of the few people who ever tried to help me.

Selfless. Brave. Loyal.

So is his son—Danny.

Memories surged like a silent tide.

Maybe… this time, I'll be a proper student. Just for a while.

Still, I plan to train on my own soon. Once he sees my progress, he'll understand. I don't really need a teacher. I just need time.

But first—I need to revise history thoroughly.

Because in three years… everything will change.

The small smile on my lips slowly vanished, as I remember what is gonna happen after 3 years.

> I need to be ready.

A cruel, icy light flickered in my eyes.

> "Time to hunt… the prey approaches..."

I hummed lightly to myself, as if singing a lullaby.

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