After the spar, the iron trainees were finally shown the sheer extent of the gap that existed between them and Zephyrion.

In the brutal training that followed, none of them dared to speak against Garrick again. Instead, each of them felt deep shame that they hadn’t even managed to land a single hit on Zephyrion.

But that shame soon transformed into determination, fueling them to train harder and grow stronger.

Seeing this, Zephyrion had thrown Garrick a knowing glance. Clearly, this had been the man’s intention from the very beginning, which was why he suggested the spar in the first place.

Garrick seemed crude and blunt, but there was no doubt he was an exceptional trainer.

Time passed in a blur. Until finally, the long awaited event arrived.

The Proving.

From all across the reaches of the South, the powers, the high, mid, and lesser houses that ruled the region flooded toward the capital city, Dunewall.

Within an elaborate carriage, City Lord Ociden Valther gazed at his son with a firm expression.

The boy possessed handsome features, messy scattered hair, and tired droopy eyes. He looked utterly bored, as though he would rather be anywhere else than inside this carriage.

"The fastest way to cripple Dunewall without attacking it directly."

"Destroy the lower water channels beneath the eastern industrial sector. The pulse forges would overheat within six days and the entire place would start eating itself alive."

"The consequence?"

"Economic paralysis. Riots. Lesser houses stabbing each other in the back before the enemy even arrives. Standard South behavior."

Ociden slowly nodded.

...If you were given control of the South for a single year, what would be the first thing you’d change?"

"The academy system."

"Why?"

"It rewards obedience before competence. That’s stupid."

"And the second?"

"Public executions."

Ociden raised a brow slightly.

"You would remove them?"

"No." The boy’s droopy eyes remained half-lidded. "I’d increase them."

Silence filled the carriage for a brief moment.

"Reason?"

"Fear spreads faster than admiration. Also, it’s cheaper."

Ociden silently stared at his son for several moments before bringing out a piece of pulsewood and tossing it toward him.

"Solve it."

Ociden silently stared at his son for several moments before bringing out a piece of pulsewood and tossing it toward him.

"Solve it."

A small sigh escaped the boy’s lips, but he still nodded and fixed his gaze onto the pulsewood. Its entire surface was covered in countless runic letters.

However, every attempt to properly focus on them caused the letters to twist and scramble within his vision, making them essentially impossible to read.

Yet the boy simply closed his eyes.

A minute passed. Just as it seemed nothing would happen, his eyes suddenly snapped open. He picked up a pen, dipped it into pulse ink, and began scribbling across the wood with calm precision.

The next moment, the pulsewood emitted a bright light before dimming once more.

As the boy channeled his resonance into it, the wood suddenly burst apart into motes of light. Metal rapidly converged before him, forming several floating words.

You’re a genius.

A grin immediately spread across City Lord Ociden’s face. It was a puzzle that would normally take even geniuses over ten minutes to solve, yet his son had completed it in one.

"Hahaha! Vaelor! As expected of my son!"

"...it literally says that every time."

"And it’s correct every time!"

Vaelor released a slow breath before staring at his father with tired eyes.

"...why do you insist on doing this?"

"Because we have to keep you sharp! You’re the greatest secret weapon of House Ocren. A mark six at only seventeen!"

Ociden grinned as he spoke, clearly thrilled by his son’s accomplishments. Reaching mark six at such a young age was nothing short of monstrous.

Even the dynasty houses rarely produced prodigies of that caliber.

"...you’ve said that sentence so many times I’m starting to think you practiced it in a mirror."

Ociden ignored him entirely, his grin slowly fading as his expression turned serious.

"...Still, we cannot let our guard down. Especially when it comes to that anomaly. Just a week ago, I received reports of him using a rune art with mark six strength."

Vaelor frowned the moment he noticed his father’s expression shift. He always acted this way whenever that youth was brought up.

"...you mean... him?"

"Yes." Ociden nodded with a serious expression.

"You haven’t heard much about Zephyrion, but never lower your guard around that boy. Even if you hold the advantage. This Proving is our chance to reveal you to the world. You must win no matter what."

"...yes, father."

’Again.’

Vaelor’s frown deepened slightly. His father’s mood always turned serious whenever he spoke about Zephyrion.

He constantly cautioned him, almost as though he regarded that boy more highly than his own son.

Vaelor’s eyes gradually turned cold.

Zephyrion was hailed as the greatest genius to ever grace the Ferran Empire. A prodigy among prodigies. But Vaelor had always called bullshit on that title.

The only difference between them was that Zephyrion’s talent had been revealed to the world, while his own had remained hidden... until now.

From a young age, Vaelor had never encountered anyone whose comprehension speed could match his own. And even now, he failed to imagine that changing.

Soon, the towering silhouette of the Calderalth mountains entered view, and his gaze sharpened slightly. 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦

’Zephyrion Calderalth.’

In this Proving, he would show the world, and his father, who the true prodigy really was.

...

Within another luxurious carriage, a woman of breathtaking beauty sat with a deep frown etched across her face.

She wore a pure white robe that revealed the upper swell of her chest. Her hair was neatly braided upward and adorned with numerous ornaments and pins, while her skin was flawless, smooth, and porcelain-like, carrying a beauty and elegance capable of starting wars.

She was City Lord Selmira Heno, head of the Heno high house.

The frown on her face felt deeply out of place, as though something had offended the heavens themselves. And the cause was none other than the young girl seated before her.

The girl carried the same appearance as her mother, only younger.