Roran did not sleep well. The image of the Duke's powerful, angry eyes, and the crushing weight of his, made sleep impossible. The next morning, before the sun was even fully up, the butler, Mr. Finch, silently led Roran to a heavy, armored carriage.
Duke Ashborne was already inside. He wore his battle uniform and looked ready for war. The Duke did not greet Roran; he simply nodded once, a gesture that meant, Sit down and be silent.
The carriage moved fast, heading north, far away from the warm capital. The air quickly grew colder. Roran watched the land change from green fields to rough, rocky mountains. Soon, a thick, cold mist rolled over everything. This was the edge of the Northern Highlands, a place Roran only knew from rumors and scary stories.
The mist was strangely black, and the cold was intense, biting Roran's bruised chest. His weak body shook inside his thin clothes. He felt a fear that crawled deeper than the fear of the duel. This place felt dangerous, ancient, and wrong.
RAfter nearly a full day of travel, Roran could not hold back his worry. He spoke, his voice quiet.
"Father," Roran said. "Where are we going? What is this place?"
The Duke did not turn his head. His voice was hard, focused on the world outside the carriage. "You will know soon enough. Be prepared."
That was all the answer Roran received. He closed his mouth and forced his brave heart to keep beating steadily, pushing the fear back down.
The Grandmaster's Palace
The carriage finally stopped at the base of a massive, dark peak. Up the mountain, hidden almost completely by the black mist, was a huge, fortress like structure carved from black stone. It was a palace that looked like it had survived a thousand wars.
Roran and his father walked up the silent path. When they reached the entrance, they were stopped by a single guard. The guard wore simple, unmarked armor, but the pressure coming from him was terrifying. Roran felt an aura that easily put him down. This was clearly the bodyguard of a legend.
The guard nodded to the Duke, and they were allowed inside.
The palace inside was not decorated with gold and velvet like the Duke's estate; it was simple, hard, and functional, like a military base. They walked down long, cold stone halls until they reached a simple, heavy wooden door.
The Duke stopped Roran. "Stay right behind me. Do not speak unless spoken to."
They entered. The room was not a lavish study but a small, simple meditation chamber. In the very center, sitting perfectly still on a simple wooden chair, was an old man.
This man was Lord Darius Ashborne, the Grandmaster, the founder of the family legacy, and Roran's grandfather.
Lord Darius was old, but his body was straight and strong. He did not move, yet the moment Roran saw him, he felt a crushing sense of extreme danger. It was the same feeling his father gave off, but multiplied by ten. It was a power that made the Duke's killing intent feel like a small child's shadow.
Who is this man? Roran thought, confused. Then the realization hit him. This is the Grandmaster. The peak of the human power system! Mana Circle 9. He realized instantly that his grandfather was far, far stronger than his father, the Duke (Circle 8).
Duke Ashborne immediately knelt on one knee. "Father. I have brought Roran."
Roran was stunned into silence, but the Duke's sharp gesture brought him back. Roran quickly dropped to his knees, hitting the stone floor hard.
"Grandfather," Roran greeted him, his voice shaking slightly.
Lord Darius slowly turned his head. His eyes were pale blue, like ancient ice, and they looked right through Roran, seeing every weakness, every secret.
"Get up, boy," the Grandmaster commanded. His voice was not loud, but it seemed to vibrate through Roran's very bones.
Roran stood up, facing the legend.
Lord Darius did not ask about the duel. He did not ask about the core. He asked the only question that mattered.
"Are you still willing to be strong?"
Roran felt the power of the room trying to push him down, demanding the answer of a coward. But he remembered the shattered core and the shame of his first life.
"Yes, Grandfather," Roran said, standing straight. "I don't want to be weak. I want to live for my own sake, with my own strength, not as a coward who hides. I will not give up."
The Grandmaster studied him for a long moment, a ghost of a smile appearing on his ancient face. "Good. Then tell me, boy." Lord Darius leaned forward, his voice a dangerous whisper. "Are you ready to die for that strength?"
Roran did not hesitate. The memory of the S-level monster's claw was still fresh. "Yes. I don't want to live like a coward. I would rather die trying."
The Crimson Portal
"Follow me," the Grandmaster ordered, standing up.
Lord Darius led them out of the palace and toward the mountain itself. They went through a hidden, iron gate protected by powerful spells and heavy guards. Deep under the mountain, in a massive, cold cavern, was a sight that made Roran gasp.
A swirling portal stood tall in the middle of the cave. It pulsed with a terrible, dark crimson color, and the air around it felt hot and poisonous.
"This is the Gate of the Scarlet Plains," Lord Darius explained. "A forgotten training ground. Inside, the mana is polluted, and the monsters are brutal. The rules of Aethelgard do not apply here. It will be the most danger you have ever known. It will cost your life. You go alone."
Roran stared at the red portal, feeling the weight of the moment. This was it.
Duke Ashborne stepped forward, his face serious but without any fear for his son. He held out a bundle. "You will need this, Roran."
It was a full set of heavy, simple battle armor and a fine, sharp sword much better than the training blade Roran had used before.
Roran accepted the gear, tying the armor quickly over his clothes. He strapped the sword to his waist. He looked at his father, then at his legendary grandfather, and then he walked toward the crimson glow.
He took a final, deep breath and stepped into the portal.
The world dissolved into red light and then reformed.
Roran stumbled out onto damp, black earth. The forest was thick and silent, but the sky was the color of blood, and a heavy, red mist hung between the black trees. He had one second to realize this new place was deadly before he heard the sound.
A loud snort and a heavy crash of hooves.
Charging out of the red mist, its eyes glowing with rage, was a huge, shaggy ox beast, its horns thick and sharp as swords. It roared and charged straight at him!
Roran barely dodged, the beast's horn tearing a piece of his new armor off. He unsheathed the fine sword his father gave him, the cold steel a promise in his hand.
He had no mana, no skill, and no backup. Roran gripped the sword and turned to face the raging beast.
Meanwhile, Outside the Portal…
In the cold, silent cavern, Duke Ashborne watched the crimson light of the portal swirl. His face, usually an unmoving mask of command, was heavy with doubt.
"Father," the Duke murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "Was this truly necessary? Is this the only path? His core is shattered; he is certain to die in there."
Lord Darius, the Grandmaster, did not look at his son. His pale, ancient eyes remained fixed on the churning red energy, seeing beyond the veil.
"It is no longer about necessary, my son," the cold, ancient voice replied, echoing slightly in the vast cavern. "It is about his fate. We wait and see."
Back in the Scarlet Plains, Roran took a final, desperate stance. The huge ox beast roared, its massive head lowering for the kill. Roran forced the fear back, his brave heart pounding, and raised his fine sword to meet the coming attack.