Godslayer's Legacy: THE PATH TO SUPREMACY

The air in the lavish drawing room was heavy with the scent of burning incense, a faint haze drifting around the gilded edges of the room. Tapestries depicting grand battles and magical duels adorned the walls, while the nobles seated around the circular table exuded an aura of practiced ease. But their casual posture was a lie. The tension crackled beneath the surface, their eyes betraying the weight of the conversation at hand.

"Silver," a man in deep crimson robes said, his voice cutting through the low murmurs. His sharp features caught the flickering candlelight as he leaned forward. "Tempered, no less. The Kireans have outdone themselves this time."

Another noble, an older woman with steely gray hair and piercing blue eyes, folded her hands neatly in front of her. She exuded the confidence of someone who had played this game of power for decades. "Outdone themselves? Or stumbled upon fortune?" she asked, her tone light but laced with doubt. "There's no precedent for such an awakening. Tempered mana, shaped before the ceremony? I question whether even the Kireans truly understand what they've cultivated."

The room buzzed with agreement, though the undercurrent of envy was unmistakable. A younger noble, barely past thirty, drummed his fingers against the table, his impatience evident. "And if they don't understand it?" he asked. "That boy's core could either bring prosperity to the Kirean house or catastrophe to all of us."

"Catastrophe?" The older woman raised a skeptical brow. "You exaggerate."

"Do I?" the younger man shot back. "A silver core of that nature—if it cannot be controlled, if it falters, the consequences could ripple through the entire noble structure."

The crimson-robed man chuckled darkly. "Or perhaps the Kireans will finally step into the power they've always avoided. Such a core could make them the strongest house in the realm, not just respected scholars of mana flow."

The gray-haired woman's expression tightened. "If the Kireans rise, others will fall. That boy's core is not just a gift; it is a weapon. And like any weapon, it will either serve its master or destroy them."

----

In a dimly lit chamber far from the grand estates, the rivalries of the nobles gave way to something darker. The room was unremarkable, its stone walls and sparse furnishings speaking to function over luxury. A single flickering candle illuminated two figures seated across from each other.

"The Kirean boy," the cloaked figure said, his voice a low rasp. "A tempered silver core at seven years old. Such potential in inexperienced hands is... dangerous."

The other figure, a noble dressed in muted tones to avoid recognition, nodded slowly. "You think he's a threat?"

"To the Kireans themselves? Perhaps. But more so to anyone who dares to oppose them. That boy will not remain within their estate forever. And when he steps beyond its gates, he will reshape the balance of power."

The noble frowned. "Then we must act before that happens. Influence him, perhaps?"

The cloaked figure's hood shifted slightly, revealing a flash of a scarred jaw. "Influence? You assume he can be swayed. Boys like him—ones who carry such cores—are not easily bent. If anything, they are forged harder by attempts to control them."

"Then what do you suggest?"

The rasping voice turned colder. "Wait. Watch. The moment he steps beyond the estate, he will face the world as it truly is. We will ensure it is not kind to him."

---

Back at the Kirean estate, the weight of Rui's awakening settled heavily within the family. Soren sat at the head of a long dining table, his posture as rigid as the chair beneath him. Opposite him, Arielle's gaze flickered between her husband and a letter in her hands, her expression clouded with concern.

"They've already started circling," Arielle said, folding the letter neatly and placing it on the table. "Every house in the realm has heard of Rui's awakening. They'll come to test him—or to take him."

Soren's jaw tightened. "Let them come. He will be ready."

"Will he?" Arielle countered, her voice rising slightly. "You know what a silver core means. They won't wait for him to grow. They'll push him, demand things of him he's not prepared to face."

Soren leaned forward, his amber eyes burning with conviction. "He is not just any child, Arielle. He is ours. He has your wisdom and my discipline. He will rise to the challenge."

Arielle's lips pressed into a thin line. "You speak of challenges as though he were already a man. He is seven, Soren. Seven. A child with a burden that even adults would falter under."

For a moment, the room was silent, the tension between them palpable. Then, Soren sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "I will protect him," he said quietly. "From the nobles, from the world—until he can stand on his own."

"And if he stumbles?" Arielle asked, her voice soft but pointed.

"Then we catch him," Soren replied without hesitation. "But we do not hold him back."