The world Kaien lived in was not ruled by strength alone.
It was ruled by lineage, fame, and ambition.
Within the vast territory protected by the divine barrier, cities were governed not just by law—but by noble families, each holding power that had been refined over generations.
And the Vlorians were only one among many.
At the age of six, Kaien attended his first Noble Assembly.
It was not a political meeting, nor a battlefield gathering.
It was a social convergence—where families displayed their prestige, measured their influence, and silently evaluated future rivals.
Kaien stood beside his parents inside the grand Aurelius Hall, his small hands clasped behind his back, eyes quietly scanning everything.
The hall itself was massive—arched ceilings carved with ancient runes, golden pillars stretching skyward, and banners of countless families hanging proudly from the walls.
Each banner told a story.
Each crest whispered ambition.
"Remember," Luca said calmly, leaning down slightly. "Observe. Speak only when spoken to."
Kaien nodded.
"Yes, Father."
Eren smiled faintly. "You don't look nervous."
"I'm not," Kaien replied honestly.
Eren chuckled softly. "That's… unusual."
Kaien didn't respond. He was already watching.
To the front of the hall, elevated platforms marked the Upper-Class Nobles.
These families were the pillars of the region—those whose ancestors had once stood at the frontlines of demon suppression.
At the center sat the House Draythar.
Their banner bore a black sun devouring a silver moon.
"They're strong," Kaien thought instinctively.
House Draythar was known as the Iron Sovereigns—an upper-class noble family with generations of high-ranking awakeners. Their patriarch, Lord Kael Draythar, was rumored to have reached near-peak cultivation.
Beside them sat House Seraphel, adorned in white and gold.
Their banner depicted six radiant wings.
"They're proud," Kaien observed.
House Seraphel specialized in light-based awakenings, healers and support-type elites whose influence spread quietly but deeply across noble society.
Then there was House Malvernis.
Their banner—a crimson serpent coiled around a crown.
"They're dangerous," Kaien thought.
They were known manipulators—masters of information, contracts, and political leverage.
Behind the upper class sat the Middle-Class Nobles.
This was where the Vlorians stood.
Respected—but not feared.
Acknowledged—but not revered.
Kaien noticed it immediately.
Position speaks louder than words, he realized.
Around him, children his age gathered in clusters.
Some laughed loudly.
Some bragged.
Some stared with arrogance sharpened by upbringing.
A boy with ash-blond hair glanced at Kaien and smirked.
"Who's he?" the boy asked loudly.
"A Vlorian," another replied dismissively. "Middle class."
Kaien heard them.
He didn't react.
Jay stood nearby, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
"Don't mind them," he muttered. "They're all bark."
Kaien looked up. "They believe they're superior."
Jay scoffed. "They were taught that."
Kaien nodded slowly.
So pride is inherited, he thought.
Across the hall, a group of children drew attention.
They wore finely tailored garments, adorned with subtle runes.
"House Draythar's heirs," a noble whispered nearby.
At their center stood a tall boy with crimson eyes.
Riven Draythar.
Even without power, his presence dominated.
He spoke calmly—but others listened.
"I will awaken as an S-rank," Riven said confidently. "Anything less would disgrace my lineage."
Laughter followed—not mocking, but admiring.
Kaien watched carefully.
Confidence… or expectation?
Nearby, a girl from House Seraphel raised her chin.
Lyssara Seraphel.
"My awakening will surpass healing," she said proudly. "I'll be chosen by light itself."
Her friends nodded fervently.
Faith-driven pride.
Kaien stored it away.
Then came House Malvernis' heir.
A thin boy with a quiet smile—Veylor Malvernis.
"I don't care what rank I awaken," he said softly. "As long as others need me."
Silence followed.
Kaien's eyes narrowed slightly.
That one hides ambition behind words, he thought.
The children were escorted forward for a ceremonial greeting.
One by one, they announced their names and houses.
When it was Kaien's turn, murmurs followed.
"House Vlorian."
"Middle-tier."
"Still respectable."
Kaien stepped forward calmly.
"I am Kaien Vlorian," he said clearly.
No embellishment.
No boast.
Just truth.
Lord Draythar's gaze lingered on him for a brief moment.
"Hm," the man muttered. "That child…"
Eren felt it.
So did Luca.
As the gathering continued, conversations turned sharper.
Families discussed territory expansion, awakener quotas, and upcoming rites.
Kaien listened quietly.
They're not just nobles, he realized.
They're competitors.
During a recess, Riven Draythar approached Kaien.
"You're quiet," Riven said. "Why?"
Kaien met his gaze. "I'm listening."
Riven smirked. "Listening won't make you strong."
Kaien replied evenly, "Neither will noise."
Riven paused.
Then laughed.
"You're interesting," he said. "But middle-class blood has limits."
Kaien didn't argue.
Limits are meant to be tested, he thought.
Later, Lyssara glanced at him.
"You don't seem afraid," she said.
"Of what?" Kaien asked.
"Failure."
Kaien tilted his head slightly.
"I haven't failed yet."
She blinked.
As dusk approached, the assembly concluded.
Families departed with renewed ambition and sharpened pride.
Inside the carriage, Luca spoke quietly.
"You saw it, didn't you?"
Kaien nodded.
"They all want to stand above others."
Luca sighed. "That's noble society."
Kaien looked out the window.
"I don't want to stand above others," he said softly.
Luca glanced at him. "Then what do you want?"
Kaien answered without hesitation.
"I want to stand when others fall."
Silence filled the carriage.
Eren reached out and gently squeezed his hand.
That night, Kaien returned to the library.
But this time, he didn't read.
He stared at the shelves.
At the world.
At the pressure pressing down on his small shoulders.
Upper class… middle class… lower class…
All meaningless without power.
He clenched his fists.
"Three more years," he whispered.
Beyond the barrier, demons stirred.
Within it, noble ambitions sharpened.
And at the center—
A quiet boy began to feel the weight of the world.