Rising Stars

Leopold maintained his stoic demeanor as he exchanged pleasantries with the two family heads. He found their manner far more tolerable than the courtly excess of Avalon's nobility.

These leaders had been tempered by the ongoing war, their words and actions stripped of unnecessary flourishes. It was a refreshing contrast to the nobles of the Slatemark Empire's heart, who had grown soft in their unchallenged comfort. Central's aristocracy seldom faced the grit and chaos of true battle; they played their games in lavish halls, insulated from the harshness of the world. Even the East, until the vampire war, had enjoyed relative peace compared to the relentless strife faced by the North, West, and South.

Leopold himself had seen his share of combat—skirmishes with black mana species and the occasional border conflicts with other regions. Yet, his experience was limited compared to those forged in unending war. Perhaps that was why he loathed Avalon's nobles so deeply. They excelled at politics, yes, but their politics were often drenched in vanity.

When the formalities with the two heads concluded, Leopold was greeted by another presence. Kathyln Creighton, heir to the powerful family that ruled half of the North, approached with poise.

'She has grown,' Leopold thought, noting her silver hair catching the light like frost under the sun. She had recently broken through to Immortal-rank, placing her among the top hundred strongest humans in existence—a feat all the more impressive at her age of twenty-five.

"I trust your time at the Tower of Magic was enlightening?" Leopold asked, his voice measured.

"It was," Kathyln replied with a faint smile. "Archmage Charlotte was a brilliant mentor. I learned a great deal under her guidance."

Leopold inclined his head. Kathyln's enthusiasm for magic seemed to outweigh her family's historic rivalry with the Tower of Magic, a fact that intrigued him. As she bowed and departed, Leopold's gaze followed her for a moment, thoughtful.

The next to greet him was Sun Zenith, the rising star of the Mount Hua Sect.

Leopold's expression betrayed a flicker of surprise. 'Quasi-Immortal-rank,' he noted silently, his eyes narrowing as he studied the young man.

Sun was in that peculiar liminal stage, perched between the pinnacle of Ascendant-rank and the threshold of Immortal-rank. His body had yet to undergo its second metamorphosis, but his Sword Heart had already given rise to a Sword Domain—a rare and extraordinary achievement.

'Ridiculous talent,' Leopold mused, though he kept his face impassive. At twenty-two, Sun Zenith was on the cusp of immortality, a level of progression that defied reason. Yet something about the young swordsman's bearing unsettled Leopold. There was an edge to his confidence that felt out of balance. He kept his reservations to himself, offering only a polite nod as Sun moved on.

Finally, a familiar figure approached—Lucifer Windward, heir to the Windward family.

Leopold regarded the young man thoughtfully. "I've heard of your remarkable achievement," he said, his tone neutral but laced with gravity. "To defeat a low Ascendant-rank without scaling the Wall is the stuff of legends. Congratulations."

Lucifer inclined his head in acknowledgment, his verdant eyes gleaming with quiet pride.

'So many remarkable talents in one generation,' Leopold thought. Arthur Nightingale had been the first to break that impossible barrier, but Lucifer had now joined those hallowed ranks. It was a rare and formidable accomplishment—a glimpse of the extraordinary potential rising in humanity's next era.

However, Leopold caught a flicker of hesitation in Lucifer's expression—a faint shadow that the young man couldn't entirely conceal. It was subtle, but unmistakable.

He wasn't proud. At least, not as proud as he should have been, considering the gravity of his accomplishment.

Leopold's violet eyes shifted past Lucifer, settling on Arthur Nightingale, who stood flanked by Rachel Creighton and Seraphina Zenith. A rare furrow creased Leopold's brow as he observed the trio.

'Of course,' he mused, his lips pressing into a thin line.

Even the brightest star can find itself dimmed when placed next to a blazing sun.

Lucifer's talent was monstrous, an achievement so singular it had cemented him as the second most gifted individual in recorded history. But Arthur—Arthur's talent eclipsed his entirely. He was the first. The best. A once-in-all-existence anomaly born in the very same year as Lucifer.

Leopold's gaze lingered on the young man, a flicker of admiration sparking in his otherwise stoic demeanor.

'I genuinely find myself astounded by that young man,' Leopold thought, a rare sense of awe creeping into his mind.

Sun Zenith's progression defied reason. Lucifer's achievements were unparalleled—until now.

But Arthur Nightingale stood on a tier beyond either of them. His presence alone was disconcerting. Not because he was yet Leopold's equal—far from it—but because of the raw, unbridled potential he radiated. It was the kind of potential that made even seasoned Radiant-rankers like Leopold feel a chill run down their spine.

'This boy could very well reach high Radiant-rank,' Leopold speculated, his thoughts flickering to Liam Kagu, the last human to ascend to such a pinnacle. 'Perhaps even beyond.'

The idea was audacious, yet here was Arthur—a young man who made the audacious seem inevitable.

After Lucifer stepped aside, it was Arthur's turn to approach, flanked by the two princesses who walked with regal poise at his sides.

"I greet His Grace," Arthur said, bowing deeply, while Rachel and Seraphina dipped into lighter, yet perfectly respectful bows befitting their royal status.

Leopold inclined his head in return. "I greet Her Highness Rachel, Her Highness Seraphina, and Arthur," he said, his tone even but unmistakably sincere. "Your achievement in holding back an Immortal-ranker has reached far and wide, Arthur. It was nothing short of extraordinary."

Leopold's words were entirely genuine. When he first read the report of the battle, his surprise had been so visceral that the cup of coffee he had been holding had shattered in his grip, spilling its contents unnoticed.

A boy, not even of age, had survived combat with a low Immortal-rank cultist.

Even acknowledging that the opponent might not have been fighting at full strength, the feat was remarkable—unprecedented, even.

'Arthur Nightingale has already contributed more to this war than most seasoned warriors ever could,' Leopold thought, his eyes steady on the young man before him. The boy's accomplishments weighed heavily on his mind, each one a testament to a talent that defied conventional understanding.

Killing a low Ascendant-rank vampire. Slaying a mid Ascendant-rank vampire. And now, holding his ground against an Immortal-rank cultist. These were not the accolades of a prodigy; they were the legacy of a rising legend. And Arthur had achieved all of this before crossing the threshold into adulthood.

Leopold nodded slightly, the smallest gesture of respect, as he appraised the trio before him. Among them, it was Arthur who stood out most—not for his title or his companions, but for the quiet, undeniable power he carried.

"Thank you, Your Grace, but I still have much to achieve," Arthur replied, meeting Leopold's gaze squarely.

Leopold studied him, his sharp violet eyes searching for any trace of hubris in the boy's demeanor. What he found instead surprised him. 'Not a shred of pride,' he mused. Arthur's gaze was clear and focused, unclouded by arrogance or self-satisfaction. Despite the extraordinary heights he had already reached, his demeanor spoke of someone who saw his current strength as merely a stepping stone. He was relentless, unyielding in his pursuit of growth.

Leopold's thoughts turned briefly to the young women flanking Arthur, their presence commanding in their own right. He discreetly glanced at Seraphina and Rachel, regal and poised, standing alongside him.

'And then there's Princess Cecilia as well,' Leopold mused, shaking his head slightly as another thought crossed his mind.

'Elara.' The memory of his daughter, Elara Astoria, danced unbidden through his thoughts. She had shown a curious interest in Arthur after their brief encounters at formal events. It was nothing yet—fleeting moments of admiration, perhaps—but Leopold's instincts stirred uneasily.

'I need to keep her away from him,' he decided firmly. Not out of disdain for Arthur, but out of a pragmatic concern. The young man was a magnet, effortlessly drawing others into his orbit. And why wouldn't he? His unparalleled strength, coupled with his undeniable charisma, had already ensnared three of the most influential princesses in the world: Cecilia Slatemark, Seraphina Zenith, and Rachel Creighton.

'He's far too skilled at winning hearts', Leopold admitted to himself with a begrudging respect. It wasn't just his power that captivated—it was his unwavering resolve, his grounded humility, and his relentless drive. If anyone could navigate the intricate web of alliances, rivalries, and emotions that defined their world, it was Arthur Nightingale.

Leopold's determination solidified. He would ensure Elara kept her distance. Arthur was a force to be reckoned with, and even those closest to him could find themselves swept up in the storm.

Sadly for Arthur, his goal of getting in the Archduke's good books wasn't going according to plan.