Royal Selection

"Pick it up", Pavlor said, kicking a wooden sword in the direction of Milo.

Milo leant down, his long black robe dragging across the floor, "What's the point, our differences have been made clear across the years, Pavlor", he said, running his finger down the blades edge.

"Holy shit! Did you sharpen it!?", he asked, looking towards Pavlor with a surprised expression.

"N-No … why?", Pavlor stuttered, averting his eyes.

"Such a liar", Milo clicked his tongue tauntingly, scolding Pavlor for fun.

"368 fights", Pavlor took up a stance with the blade at his side, his eyes narrowed on Milo, "368 losses …".

Pavlor shuffled a step forward, his figure blurred behind a gust of wind. Milo clicked his tongue and pivoted on his back foot, swinging the sword from his right hip across his chest. A thud resounded as Pavlor hit the ground, "Make that 369 losses for you now", Milo said, reaching down to help Pavlor up.

During their training together, Pavlor and Milo frequently engaged in battles to grow each other's strengths through more forceful means. Milo quickly found out that when it came to mana, the fastest way to grow was to engage in a battle where you had to fully exert the strength of your core, therefore allowing a much greater intake of external mana.

This primitive method worked fantastically for Pavlor as his core strength catapulted all the way to the Tempering 2 stage. But this method left more to be desired from Milo, the fastest way he determined he could grow his strength was sparring with Marcos. It felt weird to begin with for Milo, fighting someone who was of a similar core level, but he quickly found out that it didn't matter and even when drawing on skills from his previous life, he still couldn't get the better of his Vampire friend.

Milo was quickly able to deduce that, even though he had a past life, thanks to his complete and utter lack of understanding of mana and the techniques needed to wield it effectively, he could not yet surpass those that sat at the top of the world.

"Psss, Milo!", Melissa stuck her head out around a corner, calling for Milo to come over to her.

"What could you possible need this time sis", Milo grunted, lounging against a wall next to his sister.

"Mother and Father are moving to the estate next year", Melissa said, passing Milo a small sheet of paper.

Written on it were a bunch of insignificant documents but also information regarding a residential lot in the back garden where his mother and father would be staying, as well as a signature from Renny.

This was big news for him as during their time at the main house, his mother and father had continually visited them, sometimes for months at a time. Each time this happened they brought presents for the children; Milo more often than not received a small weapon handcrafted by his father.

In no means were they good quality to him, they were just extremely useful to have as he was yet to be permitted to train with a real sword, him being 12 and all. He used the weapons from his father as a replacement, carefully sharpening the iron edges himself and carving his name into the wooden hilt.

He wasn't particularly fond of using a sword or daggers, but when it came to his own age bracket, he found out that martial arts were typically a rarity reserved for those of extremely high standing. A country Baron like himself would more often than not only train with the sword for a few months before enlisting in the army once he became an adult.

Milo's mind drifted back to thoughts of the royal selection that he would be participating in. As much as he would have liked to quietly grow his strength, the tournament also proposed the best possible opportunity to increase his standing and grow his influence at such a young age. The only hurdle he deemed to be a problem would be if he went too far and exposed all of his power too early.

If he was to get overly carried away and exert the full force of his power, he had already assumed that not a single person his age in the entire kingdom would be able to handle him. It went without saying that this wouldn't bode well for him, and he would likely end up being hoisted away and trained as the kings personal guard or something like that.

'Although that might not be such a bad thing after all …'.

Milo thought to himself, trudging through the hallways on his way back to his room. Unlike the 12 courts, the kingdom he now lived in operated fundamentally different when it came to servitude.

Power was everything in the courts, but not in this kingdom.

Out of the 4 children Milo thought that Melissa had the best chance at making a name for herself, that is, if Milo didn't have the experiences of a 10,000-year-old dragon. The reason for this assumption was simple, her brains. It was a clear objective for creatures that lived short lives to make the most of their meagre 100 years on earth, and this drove them to money.

He had only accidently stumbled upon Renny's room one night and heard him arguing with his wife about their financial situation. It was that fleeting moment that led him to fully understand just why Renny was so desperate to grow the Van Belched name. For someone like Milo who had spent near 1,000 years of his life rotting away inside his room from boredom, it was an unimaginable thought that a single year could potentially make or break a person.

'Do I have to die so soon as well then?'.

Milo asked himself, flopping down onto his bed. It was a thought that constantly played on his mind, what if it was all pointless. Given he was a human now, he would only live somewhere between 90-100 years, and that was if he was one of the lucky few.

That meant that being 12, he had lived nearly a sixth of his life already. He hadn't even done anything to show for himself yet and he was already thinking about death. Compared to his past life, Milo Van Belched was a waste of space with no accomplishments to speak of.

Though, it wasn't like he had a choice in the matter, given how the worlds very laws seemed to gravitate to putting him at an unfair advantage.

Compared to his life as the Azure Dragon, by this point he had already established himself as his villages greatest ever prodigy and set out on the path to enlightenment.

Enlightenment was the term that they used to describe individuals who possessed the talent to, 'break the bounds of the world'. These specific individuals would undergo a special type of training when they reached 13 years of age, where their body would be submerged in boiling water and through this process, the elders believed their body would temper and adjust to conjure the heat of the sun.

It was a hilariously bad attempt at a right of passage, but annoyingly it worked every single time and not a single child failed on their path to enlightenment after undergoing the training. This only served to irritate Milo as he slowly found himself starting to belief in the stupid myth.

'Ah well, that's a story for another day … anyways …'.

Milo rolled over to the side of his bed and plucked a small sheet of paper from underneath a box. He opened it up revealing a ticket and information sheet regarding the royal selection.

'I wonder how Renny would feel if he knew I was already aware of what he was trying to sign us up for'.

In truth, Milo was already well aware that he would be made to participate in the royal selection, he was just interested to see if Renny would try to force him or give him the option.

If Renny was to try and force Milo and the kids to participate, he would have turned around, told him to piss off and made his way out into the world by himself. He knew Renny wasn't that kind of person, Milo just didn't want him to get an overgrown sense of importance after seeing the growth of Pavlor in particular.

"Hey Milo", Renny's muffled voice called from behind the bedroom door.

Milo tucked the paper beneath his pillow and pushed himself up before responding, "Come in Renny".

'Oh wow'.

Milo whistled as Renny stepped into the room dressed in a lavish black suit coupled with a red button up and black tie. Renny was constantly tugging at the collar of the shirt, clearly finding it uncomfortable.

"What's this?", Milo asked, "Date night?".

"Don't be silly", Renny chuckled taking a seat next to Milo, "I've been called to a meeting with the nobility from the surrounding area".

"Oh …", Milo rolled his eyes sarcastically, "Are they already starting to plan for the royal selection?".

"How did you …", Renny stopped himself, letting out a breath of air before carrying on, "I guess that this was to be expected from you, it's no surprise you had me all figured out from the moment I announced it".

'I think I know where this is going'.

"Get to the point Renny", Milo barked, standing up and walking over to his wardrobe where he began to slip off his clothing.

"I want you to come with me".

'How did I know'.

Even though Milo had clearly been singled out by Renny, he already knew exactly why he had come to him first.

"You want me to flex my power, right?", Milo asked, slipping into his normal black sparring outfit.

"…", Renny hesitated over his response, "Correct".

Milo was a war forged battle maniac in his previous life and had carried those abilities into the next. Now he possessed that same hunger and fire but as a 12-year-old child, it was clear why Renny was choosing to take Milo. He was anticipating a clash between noble houses.

…

After Renny and Milo had finally packed their stuff for a few days, they jumped into a more lavish looking carriage. It was a bright white with golden strips lining the wheels, doors and windows. Accompanying them was a strange man who even now refused to give his name.

He sat in silence guiding the two horses along the narrow road, when asked a question he simply responded with either a nod or grunt that made his top hat slip slightly.

From the moment they had left the main house this man had looked at Milo and Renny with a sense of contempt, as if they weren't worthy of attending whatever meeting it was.

"So then Renny, are we good to go?", Milo asked, letting a small flame flicker to life at the tip of his finger.

"Now, now", Renny scolded, pushing Milo's wrist down, "We aren't going there for the sole purpose to just fight, you are coming with me in case a fight just so happens to break out".

Milo wasn't convinced, particularly by the wink that Renny gave when he said those words. At those words, Milo heard a violent grunt come from the man that was leading the horses. Milo understood why Renny was keeping quite now, this man wasn't just some random driver, he was an employee of whatever estate they were headed to.

*Bang*

The carriage rocked, hurling Milo from his seat into Renny who smashed through the back window.

"Ugh", Milo grumbled rubbing the back of his head, "Renny, you good …".

His words trailed off and his face twisted into an expression of disbelief. He scampered to his feet, clawing his way out through the broke window towards Renny who lay collapsed in the middle of the path, his head spurting blood with a shard of glass protruding from the wound.

"Oi! YOU FUCKING DRIVER!", Milo barked, rushing back to the carriage to look for something, anything to patch the wound.

"DRIVER YOU FUCK!", Milo roared again, rounding the front, "I sai …", his words trailed off again, seeing the driver lay lifeless with an arrow piercing his forehead.

He placed his two fingers on the drivers throat, feeling a cold chill run across them. He pulled them away and shook them off.

"Fuck no pulse".

He rushed back into the carriage coating his fist in the dark aura and ripped the top layer of the seats off in a single swoop.

"Come on come on, don't die on me you shit!", Milo grumbled to himself, lifting Renny's head and wrapping around the glass shard with the thick red leather.

'No time to disinfect, we need a healer ASAP …'.

Milo picked up Renny's body and took a single step forward.

*Bang*

He tossed Renny's body into the air, pivoting on his backfoot he struck the gut of a masked assailant. As the masked man was falling, Milo gripped him by the throat, "So it was you", his eyes widened as his scratchy voice ripped from his lungs.

"Fuck off", Milo gripped the neck tighter, tearing out the throat and snapping the spine, "Die".