---
Kyle felt a surge of power coursing through his veins like a rushing river, as if every cell in his body was dancing with joy from the ecstasy of this continuous flow of energy.
He murmured with a faint smile, feeling the vitality pulsing through his limbs:
"Alright… I guess it's time to head out and get something to eat."
He rose lightly from the bed and stretched his body with fluidity, checking his physical condition. He tensed his now-firmer muscles, then began changing his clothes. He put on a black long-sleeved shirt, simple but sturdy trousers, and shiny leather boots that hugged his feet tightly, squeaking softly with every step.
He donned light armor—high-quality yet non-restrictive—and secured his sword at his left hip in a way that allowed him to draw it quickly and easily. He also tucked a dagger behind his waist, its hilt angled toward his left hand, just in case.
Finally, he wore a long black cloak, pulling the hood over his head so that half his face was cloaked in shadow, leaving only his crimson eyes gleaming like embers beneath the ashes.
He checked his appearance in the mirror and whispered:
"Everything's ready... First, food at the inn's restaurant, then a quick tour of the city."
Kyle intended to stay in the central city for only one week, for several reasons. First, he hadn't yet grown accustomed to his new body—coexisting with it was different from merely accepting it. Second, he wanted to gather more information about this world. Third, he had set aside time to train his body and hone his combat skills. And finally, he didn't want to waste his personal resources; as long as the inn's expenses were covered by the family, he had no problem staying for a week without touching his own funds.
He inspected the room before leaving, casting a glance at the corners and checking certain places where he had set up small traps or alarm indicators. He even left subtle marks to verify later if anyone had entered the room in his absence.
Kyle was obsessed with caution—borderline paranoid—especially after reading dozens of novels and works involving assassinations and conspiracies. After all, he was from House Liothan, where blind trust had no place.
He closed the door quietly and moved silently through the inn's hallways. Beneath his feet, the wooden floor creaked softly with every step, and his nose caught the scent of aged dust mixed with the dampness of the night, giving the place an eerie stillness, as if time itself had stopped.
He quickly reached the restaurant, located in a side room near the reception hall. He didn't have to wait long; as soon as he sat down and ordered, the meal was placed before him with practiced grace.
The hall was nearly empty—either the guests hadn't woken yet, or they didn't prefer to dine this early. Kyle paid it no mind and focused on his food. The atmosphere was quiet, broken only by the faint dripping of water from a corner, and filled with the scent of roasted coffee blended with ancient spices.
He spent about fifteen minutes eating calmly, savoring every bite. Then he wiped his mouth with a napkin and murmured with a satisfied smile, patting his full stomach:
"Seems like my appetite has increased a lot since I became a low-rank Bronze Knight."
He furrowed his brows, resting his chin on his hand:
"But strangely, I never noticed this kind of hunger in my family members..."
He paused, thinking, before a spark of realization lit in his eyes, and he whispered:
"Could it be the type of meat?"
In Kyle's past memories, there were types of meat from magical beasts… Delicious and rich in natural energy.
He took a deep breath, as if his enhanced sense of smell had conjured the scent of that magical meat, infused with ancient spices and primal fire. There was a clear distinction between magical beasts and monsters: the former could be tamed and raised, while the latter were pure chaos, subdued only by death.
Kyle shook his head lightly, brushing off those thoughts, and rose from his seat, ready for his outing.
---
He left the inn swiftly and made his way through the city streets. The cobblestone roads were decent, but cleanliness was lacking; every now and then, a foul stench hit his nose, nearly making him gag.
His eyes roamed over the people and buildings, quickly forming several conclusions in his mind. First, it seemed that this world didn't prioritize clean streets. Trash would have been tolerable, but the presence of human waste everywhere made Kyle feel nauseated, almost fainting at one point.
Second, poverty and hunger were widespread in this city. He saw thin beggars, their skin clinging to their bones, eyes vacant and devoid of any spark—as if they had given up on life itself.
"Is the inner city going to be like this too? If so… what a disappointment."
Kyle moved with agility, carefully avoiding staining his clothes. Some of the beggars cast him strange glances, but the aura around him made them avert their eyes in silence, forgetting even the thought of approaching him.
As he advanced, he began to notice gradual changes. The filth disappeared from the streets, the foul odor lessened—though it still lingered—and the clothing of the commoners became cleaner, their faces less miserable.
He saw soldiers patrolling regularly and noticed banners of pioneering nobles fluttering in some streets. He observed them from afar, but couldn't recognize their crests, which led him to two possible conclusions: either he hadn't studied well—which was unlikely, since he at least knew the influential houses—or these were newly risen or minor nobles not yet widely known.
"It seems the Pioneering Nobles Law started a hundred years ago, after a tug-of-war war ended with Astalia's victory. The royal family enacted the law to reclaim unused lands and build a human shield against monsters."
This law was incredibly significant, especially for families whose influence had declined. They could request land to become pioneering lords, rebuild towns, and gradually climb the ranks of power. Even fallen noble families and brilliant civilians saw it as an opportunity.
But the Kingdom of Astalia didn't leave things to chance—the first year was tax-exempt, then the expenses would begin. The land would be evaluated every three years. If the lord met the requirements, he would be granted the title of Baron. If not, he'd vanish from the political stage—unless he paid a steep price.
"Honestly… why wasn't I sent to become a pioneering lord? Why was I sent to Dawn Academy instead?"
The question suddenly crossed his mind, and he couldn't find an answer.
"Maybe the family thought I'd just slack off until I was old enough to be assigned to some land…"
The main condition to become a pioneering lord was to be at least eighteen years old.
Kyle continued walking, heading toward the marketplace.
---
Meanwhile, in the southern part of the Kingdom of Astalia, the city of Liothan shone with cleanliness and order, smiles adorning the faces of its people.
At its highest point stood a massive castle, surrounded by towering walls. At its entrance stood two giant lion statues—the symbol of House Liothan—proudly guarding the gate.
Inside the castle, specifically in a luxurious office, sat a middle-aged man with black hair and glowing red eyes. If Kyle had been here, he would've been shocked…
"The head of the family."
Yes, this was the patriarch of House Liothan—Kyle's father.
In truth, Kyle was the only one of his children who inherited his appearance completely. Despite his laziness, his eyes sometimes mirrored his father's cold gaze with eerie precision.
But the relationship between them was nearly nonexistent. As the youngest and laziest of the children, his father rarely paid him any attention, focusing instead on the eldest son—the awaited heir. Even his mother cared less for him than for the older siblings. Thus, Kyle developed a rebellious personality.
He was known in the family by two nicknames: "The Lazy Lion" and "The Rebellious Lion."
He was the only one who dared to stand before the head of the house without fear or submission. Not even the eldest son had that courage. Only the ancient elders dared speak up—but even they were bound to respect him.
This is what made Kyle special—he didn't care about others' opinions or judgments.
The patriarch himself had once admitted during a council meeting:
"Kyle is different. Beneath his laziness and defiance, I saw one moment… one moment where he looked me straight in the eye, like a chained beast on the verge of breaking free. If he's ever unleashed, he'll shake the foundations of this world. He's destined to reach the rank of Legend."
That's why Kyle was sent to Dawn Academy; the family—or rather, the ancient elders—believed his talent was hidden, waiting for the right spark to erupt into the world. They hoped he would open a new chapter in House Liothan's history.
Back to the office, where the family head sat quietly, reading an old book… its title clearly visible:
__
At that moment, Kyle stood frozen in the street, staring at several vendor stalls. But what stunned him wasn't the variety of goods—it was the radiant golden light shining with an intense, strange hue, not from one place, but from several stalls.
Let's rewind a little.
As Kyle was wandering the streets, he paused to listen to a conversation between a group of people. From their talk, he picked up information about the location of the main market street where all sorts of goods were sold. Once he identified his destination, he moved with steady steps toward the market.
Upon arrival, he noticed crowds of people browsing the stalls and merchants shouting in rough voices to promote their wares, their calls mingling with the scents of spices, leather, and even some faint floral perfumes.
But the moment he stepped into the market, he was suddenly engulfed by a golden light—not from one stall, but from four different ones, all scattered yet not too far apart.
Kyle rubbed his eyes hard, as if doubting what he was seeing.
"What is this… a golden light?" he whispered to himself.