Around them, children showed off their martial souls. Spears. Hammers. Beasts. No one looked at him again.
'I'll still become a Soul Master,' he told himself.
The teacher entered. "I'm Gerrad Frost. Over the next three years, I'll teach you how to become Soul Masters."
People were momentarily surprised when they heard their teacher's name. In this world, only the Noble Houses have surnames.
Introductions began.
When Ray said "Silverfalls Vine," laughter filled the room.
His face burned.
Gerrad Frost paused, then smiled calmly. "Today, we learn what martial souls truly are."
As the lesson continued, Ray slowly forgot the laughter.
The world of Soul Masters unfolded before him.
And he listened, eyes shining.
A few kilometers away, beneath a cloudy sky, a small camp lay half in ruins.
A child lay on the ground, unmoving.
"He's not going to make it," a man said quietly.
The speaker was middle-aged, broad-shouldered, and dressed in blue armor marked with a roaring tiger. The armor was chipped and stained, proof of many battles. His eyes were fixed on the child, filled with regret.
Another man stood beside him, wearing the same armor. "He's been unconscious since you found him. Why do you care so much? He's not related to you, Grey."
Grey's jaw tightened. "I found him. That makes him my responsibility."
"Shut it, Grey," the man sneered. "You ignore the captain's orders just to watch over that brat. What is he to you? Your illegitimate son?"
Grey turned sharply. "You've always had a problem with me, Mel. If you want trouble, say it plainly."
Mel smirked. "Fine. Let's settle it."
Steel rang as both swords left their scabbards.
Grey moved first.
His body blurred forward, far faster than Mel expected. Grey's sword flashed, releasing a blinding white light that swallowed the area.
"What—?" Mel froze, his vision drowned in brightness. "A battle technique?!"
At that exact moment, a faint glow slipped through the light and sank into the child's chest.
No one noticed.
When Mel could see again, a cold blade rested against his neck. His breath caught. His hands trembled.
"I've had enough of you," Grey said quietly.
Just as his sword began to move—
"Stop."
Grey clicked his tongue. "Captain…"
He stepped back.
Warmth spread through Brandon's body.
'Is the stone… fixing this body?' Brandon thought, confused. Everything felt wrong. Heavy. Small.
"I'm saved!" Mel shouted, scrambling back. "Captain, Grey tried to kill me! He's a traitor!"
The captain walked past him without a word.
Then his fist struck.
Mel flew backward, slammed into a wall, and collapsed.
"Why…?" Mel whispered.
"You think I don't see through your tricks?" the captain said coldly. "How many times have I warned you not to provoke Grey?"
He turned to Grey. "I'll punish my nephew myself. This won't happen again."
Grey nodded silently.
The captain glanced around. "Did either of you notice anything strange? Any light?"
Grey frowned. "Only my sword."
"…I see."
The captain said nothing more.
Brandon was sweating.
'What are they saying?' he thought desperately. 'I don't understand a single word.'
Panic rose in his chest.
'Why a child? Of all bodies… I can't even move properly.'
He stared at the cloudy sky. It felt heavy. Oppressive.
Then his expression hardened.
'I'll live.'
Grey turned back—and froze.
The child's eyes were open.
"Kid!" Grey rushed over. "Can you hear me? Are you alright?"
The captain laughed lightly. "Easy. He's been unconscious for years. Don't expect miracles."
Grey exhaled. "Right… sorry."
"Take care of him," the captain said. "I'm leaving."
Suddenly, sharp pain exploded between Brandon's brows.
"Ahhh!"
Grey stiffened. "What's wrong?!"
Dark shapes swam before Brandon's eyes. His head felt like it was splitting apart.
Then everything went black.
Grey checked his pulse and sighed in relief. "He fainted."
He chuckled weakly. "You really enjoy scaring me, huh?"
'Almost three years old…' Grey thought. 'Good timing.'
He carried the child into his room and laid him gently on the bed.
Later, Grey sat at his desk and wrote a letter. He stood by the window and whistled softly.
A pigeon flew in.
He tied the letter to its leg and watched it disappear into the sky.
"That should do it," he murmured. "If things go well, my mission will finally end."
He lay down on the floor, staring at the ceiling.
"Three years away from the empire… let's hope the storm has passed."
"If not," he laughed quietly, "we'll die together."
The room fell silent.
***
Ray stepped out of Ironspire Academy with his shoulders slumped, the lively noise behind him fading as the gates closed.
The day felt far longer than it should have, not because of the lessons, but because of everything that had happened in between.
What he had imagined as the beginning of a bright path had instead left him with a dull weight pressing against his chest.
He had grown up in a simple home, one filled with warmth and laughter. His parents rarely raised their voices, and even when he did something wrong, they corrected him with patience rather than anger.
Because of that, Ray had always believed that effort would be rewarded, that sincerity would be met with sincerity. Today was the first time reality had pushed back against that belief.
From the moment the other students learned that his martial soul was Silverfalls Vine, their interest in him vanished. Some laughed openly, others avoided him as if weakness were contagious.
Even the teacher, who should have treated everyone fairly, barely glanced his way during the afternoon meditation lesson, spending far more time guiding those with stronger martial souls.
As he walked, his initial sadness slowly hardened into something else. His brows furrowed, and his small fists clenched at his sides. "Is Silverfalls Vine really that useless?" he muttered to himself.
The question lingered only briefly before he shook his head. His father's voice echoed clearly in his mind.
Success was mostly effort, not talent. If others had a better starting point, then he would simply have to run farther. By the time he reached the next street, the gloom in his eyes had faded, replaced by quiet determination.
Even if his martial soul was ordinary, he would become an important Soul Master through sheer persistence.
Just as his resolve settled, his stomach growled loudly, snapping him back to reality. Ray paused and rubbed his belly in confusion.
The academy provided lunch, and the Soul Master class enjoyed far better food than the ordinary students. He had eaten until even the teachers stared at him in disbelief, earning the teasing nickname of "Rice Bucket."
He had consumed more than several classmates combined, yet now, only the afternoon had passed, and hunger had returned as if he had eaten nothing at all. It felt strange, but the thought of going home and eating something delicious quickly lifted his spirits, and his pace unconsciously quickened.
While walking along the sunlit street, something caught his eye. The weather was unusually pleasant, the afternoon sun warm rather than harsh, and its light reflected off something silvery near the roadside. Ray slowed, then stopped altogether.
A little girl was squatting near the edge of the road. She was slightly shorter than him, her clothes worn and stained with dirt, making her look like a small beggar. What drew his attention, however, was her hair.