They arrived at their grand estate, the sprawling grounds hinting at centuries of nobility. The butler and maid greeted them politely as they entered.
Arthur nodded respectfully. After washing up, he decided to eat lunch and planned to take a tour of the capital today. The thought of meeting the Emperor tomorrow made his heart beat a little faster.
Seated at the dining table after his meal, Arthur spoke up. "Father, I want to tour the capital a little, if that's okay."
Kael, the knight captain, stepped forward. "Yes, my lord. I will accompany you with ten knights and two mages."
Arthur hesitated. "Father, is that necessary?"
The Count nodded firmly. "Yes, it is. In the circles of nobility, your wealth and strength are visible by the number of strong people who surround you. Let them see clearly."
Arthur nodded, understanding.
After lunch, he settled into the back seat of the car with Leona. Drake and Rein sat up front, Rein behind the wheel. Two more cars led the procession, and another followed behind. Knights and mages occupied the accompanying vehicles.
Rein glanced back. "Where shall we go, Young Master?"
Arthur smiled slightly. "Let's head to the Coliseum. I want to watch some fights there while we take in the city from the car."
"As you wish, Young Master."
Rein immediately messaged the drivers of the other cars, and the entire procession smoothly started moving toward the Coliseum.
As they arrived near the grand Coliseum, the cars rolled into the designated parking area. The doors opened, and Arthur stepped out, flanked immediately by ten knights and two mages who took defensive positions around him.
He walked at the center of the formation with calm poise, his presence radiating noble authority. Leona and Drake followed behind him respectfully. Though they were the same age, neither of them wished to appear like mere subordinates—especially in public.
Arthur moved with the refined grace of nobility. His black hair, marked with a striking crimson line, swayed gently with his steps. His golden eyes held the gleam of quiet command, and his regal outfit—elegantly tailored with the crest of House Valerian—gave him the appearance of a foreign prince.
As they approached the Coliseum entrance, Arthur's group noticed another large entourage approaching from the opposite direction. At its center was a boy around Arthur's age, with radiant golden hair and sharp green eyes. His posture was proud, his presence unmistakable.
Rein leaned close and whispered something into Arthur's ear.
Arthur gave a subtle nod and then stepped forward, his expression calm and composed, offering a friendly smile.
"Hello," Arthur said. "It's my first time here, but I've heard so much about you."
The golden-haired boy smiled back. "And you must be Arthur Valerian—the Count's youngest son."
Arthur nodded. "It's a pleasure to be remembered by the heir of the Sword Saint."
The boy chuckled lightly. "And it's an honor to meet the son of the Northern Blade."
So, Young Master Veylan," Arthur said with a casual smile, "you came to watch the fights at the Coliseum too?"
He remembered the boy in front of him. Before Arthur's own rise to fame, there had been talk across Elydrion of another prodigy—a genius of the blade.
Veylan Drakmore, grandson of the Sword Saint, and known as the First Sword of the Empire.
"Yes," Veylan replied. "I came because of that."
Arthur nodded. "Then, why don't we watch together?"
He approached Veylan for two reasons. First, he wanted to record him using Elaris, his observation skill. Second, Veylan was from a powerful Duke family—ignoring him without reason could cause unnecessary political consequences.
All around them, paparazzi were still taking pictures, their camera flashes going off like clockwork.
Veylan noticed it too, casting a sideways glance at them but saying nothing.
Soon, they entered the grand Coliseum, taking their places in the VIP seats, elevated above the common stands. Behind them stood their personal attendants and guards, watching the crowd with trained eyes.
Veylan turned to Arthur with a playful glint in his eyes.
"Young Master Arthur, shall we make a bet?"
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "A bet on what?"
"I heard there's a fighter here who hasn't lost a single match in the past three days," Veylan said. "Unbeaten so far."
Arthur leaned back slightly. "And?"
"Let's bet on whether he continues his streak."
Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly in amusement. "What's the stake?"
"10,000 Gold Crowns."
Arthur smiled inwardly. So he's that confident.
"Alright," he said aloud. "If you say so, I'll bet he loses."
"Then I'll bet he wins," Veylan replied with a grin.
A voice from nearby announced, "The match will begin in 10 minutes."
Arthur nodded. "Let's see if your undefeated fighter can keep up the title."
Arthur murmur in his mind "Elaris"
Elaris hi ultimate skill said " At once master"
『Status – Veylan Drakmore』
Accessed via: Elaris | Permission Level: Arthur Valerian (High Access)
Name: Veylan Drakmore
Age: 12
Class: Magic Swordsman
Rank: 1 (Beginner)
Affinity: Ice, Air
⸻
Unique Skills:
◦ Extreme Yin Sword Physique
— A rare and dangerous constitution. Grants immense potential for ice and yin-type sword techniques.
— Note: Requires nourishment of Yang energy. Without balance, the host will suffer organ failure and eventual death.
◦ All-Seeing Eyes
— Allows the user to see stats and skill details of opponents up to 2 Ranks higher than their own.
— Precision and clarity increase with intent and concentration.
⸻
Skill Mastery:
◦ A-Rank Skills: x2 — Mastery: 30%
◦ B-Rank Skills: x3 — Mastery: 50%
◦ D-Rank Skills: (5) — Mastery: 0–100%
◦ E/F-Rank Skills: Mastery Complete
⸻
Background:
◦ Father: Former Rank 8 Knight — Lost his core three years after Veylan's birth. Now a commoner.
◦ Mother: Rank 7 Mage — Works at the Imperial Magic Tower.
◦ Grandfather: Lord Therion Drakmore — The current Sword Saint of the Empire. A strict and unforgiving man.
— Banished Veylan's father from the Drakmore family upon losing his core.
— Reluctantly accepted Veylan back into the family at the parents' request, after he demonstrated exceptional talent.
— Opened his mana circuit at age 4 despite a cursed physique. Required daily feeding of rare Yang-type fruits to survive and stabilize.
⸻
Hidden Identity:
◦ Past Life: Reincarnation of Kael'Zareth, the former Demon Prince of Obsidian Flame, slain in betrayal by his younger brother 50 years ago.
⸻
>> Status End. <<
Arthur read the glowing window in silence, golden eyes narrowing slightly.
A cursed prodigy… a reincarnated demon prince… Interesting.
The crowd roared like a living beast as the Coliseum's announcer stepped forward, his voice amplified by mana.
"Ladies and gentlemen! Prepare yourselves for the final match of the day!"
The cheers intensified. Even from the VIP section, Arthur could feel the vibration in the air—the excitement, the bloodlust, the anticipation.
"Facing off today is the undefeated champion of the past three days… Brako the Iron Fang!"
A massive figure stepped into the arena. Broad, towering, muscles packed like stone under iron armor. He carried a brutal greatsword on his back, its jagged edge stained from countless victories.
"Challenging him—an anonymous swordsman from the Outer Region! Rank 2. Name undisclosed!"
A lean youth entered next, wearing simple black training gear. A long hood covered most of his face, but he moved with the grace of a serpent and the stance of a trained duelist. He wielded a single-edged longsword, held low and relaxed.
Arthur leaned forward slightly.
Veylan smirked. "They didn't even announce his name. Probably a desperate nobody."
Arthur, still watching the swordsman, said flatly, "He's not here to show off. He's here to win."
The gong sounded.
CLANG!
Brako charged with terrifying speed for someone of his size, his greatsword cleaving downward with explosive force. The anonymous swordsman dodged sideways by a hair's breadth—fluid, calculated.
He's reading the opponent, Arthur thought.
The swordsman retaliated—not with brute strength, but with speed and finesse. His blade slashed at Brako's unarmored thigh, then flicked upward in a feint. Brako raised his sword to guard—
—but the challenger was already behind him.
SLASH!
A clean, deep strike to the back of the leg.
Brako howled and swung wildly.
The crowd went silent for a second.
Veylan frowned. "He's fast…"
Arthur smirked. "And clean. That's the difference."
For the next two minutes, the swordsman danced around Brako's increasingly erratic swings. He exploited every blind spot, every overextension. It was death by a thousand cuts.
And then—
CLANG—CRACK!
With one precise parry, the anonymous swordsman deflected Brako's full-force strike—and let the momentum drive Brako forward.
He spun once and delivered a perfect diagonal slash across the torso.
Brako dropped to his knees.
The referee shouted, "The match is over! Victory to the challenger!"
The crowd gasped, then erupted into applause.
Veylan's jaw tightened.
Arthur, still calm, turned to him. "Seems like I won the bet."
Veylan clicked his tongue. "Beginner's luck."
Arthur smiled faintly. "Or just better instincts."
Arthur knew he will the bet using elaris he already simulated the fight.