The halls of House Evandros were silent as Cael walked them for the first time in his new skin.
The floors stretched beneath his bare feet, chilled from the fading mountain sun. Oil-lamps flickered along carved pillars, each flame dancing in rhythm with the hushed footsteps of passing servants. No one made eye contact. They had learned, it seemed, to ignore the third son of the noble house.
That suited him just fine.
He passed portraits of men in armor, women with hawks on their shoulders, and children holding blades as tall as their torsos. House Evandros was known for strength. For its harsh winters. For its generals and gifted sons.
But not for Ren.
At least, not until now.
The System pulsed softly in his vision.
Mission Ongoing: Attend Family Supper.Objective Progress: 28%Warning: Social Position Currently Low. Reputation among family: 2/10.
Cael stepped into the grand dining hall.
The room fell quiet.
Three heads turned toward him—his new family.
At the head of the table sat Lord Eristan Evandros, a man carved from stone and silence. His silver-streaked hair was tied back, and his eyes were the same cold green as the body Cael now inhabited. His fork hovered in midair.
Beside him sat Lady Maeren, his wife, draped in navy silk and stiff disapproval. She arched one brow but said nothing.
Across from her, relaxed and half-smirking, was the oldest son, Darian Evandros, heir to the family legacy. Golden-haired, broad-shouldered, arrogant. His Gift was strength—an absurd physical power he used more for sparring matches and bedchambers than battlefields.
And now, at the door, stood Ren.
The prodigal disappointment.
Cael stepped forward with the grace of a man who had nothing left to fear. He took the empty seat at the end of the table without asking permission.
Silence stretched thin.
"You are awake," Lord Eristan said at last. His voice was iron dipped in frost.
"I am," Cael replied evenly.
"After three days unconscious," Lady Maeren added. "With no explanation."
"I recovered," he said. "That should be enough."
Darian snorted. "You sound different. The fever burn the weakness out of you?"
Cael turned his eyes to the man who, by blood, was now his brother. The System flickered.
Target: Darian Evandros.Emotion: Amused. Dominant. Threat Level: Medium.Weakness Detected: Ego – reacts poorly to being ignored or outshone.Suggested Strategy: Undermine subtly, avoid direct challenge. Delay confrontation.
Cael said nothing. He reached for a slice of bread and began to eat as though Darian had not spoken.
That was the first blow.
Darian's smile twitched. Lord Eristan's eyes narrowed slightly.
Lady Maeren resumed eating.
The tension eased, but Cael could feel it shifting beneath the surface. He was being observed.
They expected him to falter. They expected the same nervous boy who stuttered during sword lessons and skipped supper to avoid the glares.
That boy was gone.
The man in his place had written the fall of kingdoms in his sleep.
"So," Darian said finally, breaking the silence again. "What now, little brother? You planning to return to bed for another month? Or did the near-death experience awaken a spine in you?"
Cael chewed slowly, swallowed, and looked him in the eye.
"I plan to stop wasting the Evandros name."
The room went still.
A heartbeat passed. Then two.
Lady Maeren set her wineglass down harder than necessary.
Lord Eristan's gaze remained unreadable.
Darian's smirk returned, but now it was thinner, more strained.
"I look forward to seeing that," Darian said.
Cael inclined his head. "You will."
The meal continued in silence.
But he had already begun to win.
Later that night, Cael stood alone in the study Ren had once called his own. Dust lined the shelves. The books were untouched. A sword hung over the fireplace, polished but unused.
He examined the room with new eyes.
System Notification: Objective 1 Complete.+ Reputation: +1 (Current Family Reputation: 3/10)Reward Unlocked: Exploit – Weakness Mapping (Passive Ability)
Immediately, his vision shifted.
Subtle outlines glimmered on objects. Fine cracks in stone. Warped hinges on the bookshelf. He walked to the window and looked down at the courtyard where guards practiced sword drills. Their stances were full of flaws. He could see them all.
He turned his gaze to a nearby ledger, and the System marked a name in glowing red ink—Jalen, Steward of the House. Notes appeared.
Suspicious behavior: Misplaced funds. Frequent visits to outer city. Possibly embezzling. Threat Level: Low. Leverage Potential: High.
Perfect.
This was the strength they never feared. Not brute force. Not magic.
But insight.
He now saw the world not as it appeared, but as it was—every weakness, every crack, every opportunity begging to be exploited.
He walked to the desk and opened a drawer. Inside was a sealed letter Ren had written but never sent. Cael read it.
It was a plea. A request to be sent to the Academy of Warfare. It had been ignored.
He tore it in half and let the pieces fall into the fire.