Today was my eighth birthday.
I tended to drift through my days half-dazed, so before I realized it, eight years had already passed.
"There are three types of crests," Mom said.
"Three?"
She called me into the garden and began drawing symbols in the dirt with a wooden stick.
"This wheat-shaped one is the People's Emblem—also called the Familia Emblem. Everyone in the village has it, right?"
"But not everyone's strong."
"Correct. This crest doesn't grant combat power. Instead, it gathers strength. Crests aren't infinite. The People's Emblem collects blessings from everyone to support the system as a whole."
So that was it.
At sixteen, every citizen received a People's Emblem. The foundation of all crest power. Almost like a tax—villagers often said they felt tired when the blessings increased.
Then Mom drew another symbol.
"And this one is the Knight's Crest."
She showed me the back of her left hand. A sword-shaped emblem glimmered faintly.
"It strengthens the body and prevents damage from anyone without a crest."
So that was why she was so strong.
"Now, this is important," she said. "Knight's Crests exist in a master–servant relationship. You can tell by the brilliance of the light."
"Master and servant?"
"Yes. My Knight's Crest is a servant crest. The master crest—the one that grants it—was given to me by the emperor."
So there was a hierarchy.
"The bearer of a master crest is called a Knight Commander. When the commander dies, all servant crests connected to them disappear."
"…So the enemy would target the commander."
"Exactly. Defeat one, and you neutralize an entire knight order."
She continued calmly, as if explaining the weather.
"Servant knights must stay near their commander. If the crest power runs dry, they can't fight. That's why I don't use mine much anymore."
A knighthood built on proximity and dependency.
Then—
"Does the master crest also have a master?"
Mom smiled. "Good question. No. The chain ends there."
"Then who grants the master crest?"
She traced one final symbol in the dirt.
"The King's Crest—also called the Regalia Emblem. In Arcadia, it belongs to the Sword King. It's the source of all crests."
"If the king dies…?"
"All crests in the country lose their power. That's why the king passes the crest to princes and princesses before retiring."
A single point of failure.
Fragile.
Then Mom straightened.
"There are only two rules you need to remember for now."
"Those with a crest can only be defeated by others with a crest—excluding the People's Emblem."
"And when the bearer of a master crest falls, all servant crests vanish."
"I understand."
"Good. Then wait here."
She went inside and returned holding a sword.
Not a Heraldic Sword.
A real one—heavy, cold, unmistakably solid.
"Heraldic Swords are the norm now, but this one's for training. Come on—try wearing it."
It was old, but well-kept. Far too large for me.
…Too cool.
Way too cool.
"My son is too handsome!!"
"…Thanks."
As long as she was happy.
Then she covered my eyes and started pushing me forward.
"Come on, come on—secret, secret!"
I already knew where we were going.
"Can I open my eyes yet?"
"Not yet! …Okay! Now!"
"Happy eighth birthday!!"
The entire village was there.
Tables filled the yard. Bread, drinks, dishes I'd never seen before. Applause crashed over me as people called my name.
Children swarmed me.
"What is this…?"
"It's your Star Awakening Ceremony," Mom said proudly. "When you go, the whole village celebrates!"
"Star…?"
Knights were called stars in this country. The Sword King's five great generals were the Five Star Swords.
"At eight years old, you're halfway to adulthood. A knight halfway formed."
A coming-of-age ceremony—by this world's standards.
Apparently, that was reason enough.
"You help everyone," Mom said. "That's why."
"I was just bored."
Elderly villagers thanked me for firewood and water. Kids begged me to play again.
Everyone was looking at me.
Not with expectation.
With warmth.
The applause echoed in my chest.
"Leo, come here!"
On the table—
A cake.
I froze.
Cake. Real cake.
"Eggs and sugar were hard to get," Mom said. "But I wanted to make it."
A single candle burned at the center.
"Cut the flame with the knife. That's the ritual."
I nodded.
The blade passed through the flame.
Applause erupted.
"Leo," Mom said softly. "Happy eighth birthday. Thank you for being born."
I took a bite.
And—
"…Why?"
It was sweet.
A sensation buried since that orphanage winter—something I'd thought lost forever.
Sweet.
Warm.
Real.
Tears spilled before I could stop them.
Mom laughed through her own. "It's that good!?"
No.
It was because—
She really was my mother.
That realization cracked something open inside me.
I laughed and cried at the same time.
"Mom… thank you. It's delicious."
She cried too.
That day, I accepted happiness without fear for the first time.
Ordinary happiness.
Fragile.
—And easily lost in a world of swords and crests—
A shrill whistle tore through the air.
The ground shook.
Men on horseback charged in—no, not horses.
White, spectral beasts—no flesh, only glowing mist, thunderous hooves that made no sound against the earth.
"Heraldic Horses…?" Mom whispered. "Dragon Kingdom—no…"
We were surrounded.
Dragon-emblazoned armor.
Twenty riders.
My heart pounded so hard it hurt.
I didn't know why.
But I knew—
This was the moment everything changed.