Lucian’s first real encounter with his family happened earlier than he expected.
Until now, he had only heard voices—his father’s deep, commanding tone, his mother’s softer but firm words, and the whispers of servants. But today was different.
Today, he was being carried sowhere new.
The woman holding him—his mother, he presud—walked with purpose. Her warmth was familiar, but there was an air of formality in the way she handled him, as if she were preparing to present him.
Lucian kept his eyes half-lidded, feigning newborn ignorance. Observing without being observed was his greatest advantage right now.
Then, the voices ca.
“So this is the newborn.”
The words carried neither affection nor disdain. It was an evaluation, spoken by soone used to judging worth.
Lucian was shifted slightly, allowing him to see his surroundings for the first ti.
The room was grand, with high ceilings, golden chandeliers, and walls adorned with ancient weapons and banners. Seated in the center was a tall, imposing man with sharp eyes and dark hair streaked with silver.
The Duke. His father.
Around him stood several young boys, their ages ranging from around four to ten. His brothers.
Lucian didn’t miss the way so of them sized him up imdiately.
He was an infant, barely able to lift his head, yet already being judged.
So, that’s how it is…
This wasn’t just a family. This was a hierarchy.
Lucian’s mother stepped forward, lowering him slightly.
“Your son, my lord,” she said respectfully.
The Duke studied him. His gaze wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t cruel either. It was the look of a ruler weighing a new piece on a chessboard.
After a long silence, he finally spoke.
“Does he show affinity?”
Lucian’s mother hesitated, just for a fraction of a second.
It was enough.
The room grew tense. His older brothers exchanged glances. So smirked. Others looked indifferent.
Lucian understood imdiately. This world valued power. A noble son without talent was nothing more than dead weight.
Finally, his mother answered.
“…Not yet.”
A heavy silence followed.
The Duke’s expression remained unreadable. Then, he let out a quiet breath and leaned back in his chair.
“Then we will wait. If he shows no signs by his first year, he will be raised accordingly.”
The words weren’t spoken harshly, but the aning was clear.
If he didn’t awaken cultivation by one year old, he would be pushed aside.
Lucian felt sothing cold and sharp settle in his chest.
He had always known he would be at a disadvantage. But now, he had a deadline.
One year.
One year to figure out this world’s energy system. One year to find a way to cultivate.
Or he would be discarded.
His tiny fingers twitched slightly. He wouldn’t let that happen.
No matter what.
The eting was over quickly. His mother carried him away, but Lucian caught the smirks of a few of his brothers before they left.
One of them, a boy around eight years old, spoke just loud enough for him to hear.
“Another useless one. He won’t last.”
Another chuckled. “Maybe we’ll get to use him as a training dummy later.”
Lucian committed their faces to mory.
Not out of anger—he had no need for useless emotions like rage. But because he understood sothing important.
Though he didn’t know the challenges this world has in store for him, he was as sure as hell knew that his first battles would be against his own family.
And if they thought he would be an easy target…
They were in for a rude awakening.
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