Royal Bastard’s Bloodstained Regression Chapter 7 7: The Tutor with Knives for Eyes

The scent of roses clung to Queen Bianca as she stepped into the nursery, her silver-threaded robe whispering across the floor. Her smile was practiced—warm at a glance, but those who knew her cleared the room without a word.

"Good morning, my sons," she said lightly, her voice smooth.

Gabriel jumped to his feet, wooden sword still in hand. "Mother! I beat three guards in practice today!"

Bianca cupped his face with both hands, smiling. "Of course you did. My golden boy."

In the far corner, Daemon sat quietly, stacking small black stones into the shape of a crooked castle. The walls leaned. The towers cracked. He built slowly, steadily.

Bianca turned her gaze to him. "And you, Daemon?"

He looked up, offering a small, careful smile. "I'm learning to be strong. Like Gabriel."

Her smile didn't quite falter, but sothing in her eyes shifted.

"Good," she said. "You'll have help now."

She gestured toward the doorway.

A man stepped in.

He looked like nothing special—broad shoulders, calm eyes, shaggy hair. But the mont he entered, the room felt tighter. He didn't carry weapons. He didn't need to.

"This is Noah," Bianca said. "A master of aura control. He'll be teaching both of you."

Daemon's posture tensed. A six-star, here? For training? It didn't sit right.

Gabriel bead. "That's amazing! We'll learn together now, Daemon. We can train with aura and everything!"

He turned to Bianca. "Mother, I'll awaken fast. I'll show you my aura soon!"

Bianca stroked his hair. "Of course you will."

Then she walked over to Daemon. Lowered her voice. Brushed her hand along his cheek.

"You too, Daemon. Grow strong."

"Yes, Mother," he answered quietly, the smile still on his face, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Well then—"

Bianca turned and swept from the room. Noah bowed after her, then straightened and watched the boys—calm, unreadable.

Daemon stared at the unfinished tower of black stones, then at Noah.

Once she was gone, the silence thickened.

Noah finally spoke. "So. You're the little royals I've heard so much about."

His tone was casual, but Daemon caught the undertone.

Noah clapped his hands. "Today, we begin with Astral Core developnt. Your first real step on the Astral Ladder."

He dragged his foot across the dirt, carving a line. Then sat cross-legged with military precision.

"Sit. Both of you. We start with breath."

Gabriel dropped down lazily, already bored. Daemon followed quietly, hiding the sharp gleam in his eyes.

Noah placed a hand over his chest.

"Astral Force is the foundation of strength in this world. It's the fusion of Mana, Will, and Origin. It flows through the air, the ground... your blood. But to wield it? You must first refine it—form your Astral Core."

He tapped his chest again. "This is where it begins."

Daemon listened, but didn't follow. He already had his core. Burning Star, third stage. More than enough to fool a tutor.

But Noah wasn't a fool. His eyes flickered toward Daemon now and then, calculating. Watching.

He knows sothing's off.

Good, Daemon thought. Let him wonder. I'm not dying at the hands of a six-star dog.

Gabriel yawned loudly. "This is stupid. Why can't you just teach a cool technique?"

Noah chuckled. "Those cool technics co after foundations. You build a house on sand, you get buried when the storm cos."

Daemon sat quietly, pretending to struggle. He didn't move his core. Not yet.

He knew a setup when he saw one.

He could feel Noah's attention hovering—just a hair too sharp.

He's testing . Watching how fast I catch on.

Daemon kept his breathing uneven, exaggerated the confusion in his eyes.

But deep inside his core, he pulsed once—silently, like a second heartbeat—and felt his aura ripple in answer.

Let's not show the wolf my fangs just yet.

Still, as they "trained," Daemon subtly reached out—sensed the weight in Noah's aura.

Six-star. No question.

A predator disguised as a teacher.

Too strong to fight. Too smart to fool. I'll have to tiptoe until I grow fangs long enough to bite him back.

Noah opened one eye briefly.

Daemon's posture was off. His hands fidgeted. A poor student.

Yet... sothing about that stillness was off.

Like a snake playing dead.

Noah said nothing. But he made a note.

And Daemon, behind his mask of innocent confusion, smiled.

*****

(A week later)

The morning sun spilled across the palace courtyard, gilding the stone in warm light as the twins knelt before Noah in silent ditation.

Daemon's eyes were half-lidded. Unmoving. Breathing steady.

Gabriel, by contrast, twitched with impatience.

"I don't feel anything," Gabriel grumbled.

"Be quiet and focus," Noah said, voice calm but firm. "Astral Force isn't a roar—it's a breath. A whisper of who you are."

Minutes passed.

Then Gabriel stiffened.

His brows furrowed, lips parting as a slow breath escaped. The air shimred faintly around his body.

Noah's eyes snapped open.

Dust rose around Gabriel. The ground cracked beneath him. A faint golden pulse lit up his chest—soft, divine, unmistakable.

Astral Awakening.

Noah stood imdiately, face unreadable but clearly impressed. "You've done it."

Gabriel blinked. "What?"

"You've reached the Flicker Star. Your Astral Core has ford. At five years old..." He let out a slow breath. "Very few nobles do that before eight."

Gabriel sat up straighter, smirking instantly. "I knew I'd beat him."

He shot a smug glance at Daemon, who sat still, unbothered.

Daemon looked up, smiling faintly. "Congratulations, Gabriel."

Noah turned to Daemon. "And you? Any stirrings yet?"

Daemon shrugged innocently. "I felt warm, but... nothing like him."

Noah narrowed his eyes slightly, but said nothing.

Later, as Gabriel raced off to tell Queen Bianca, practically glowing with pride, Daemon remained on the training ground—alone again.

He sat beneath the rusted archway, watching ants trail across the stone.

A one-star already, huh? he thought, lips curling.

Good. I want you strong. I want you fast. I want you proud of it. That way, when I destroy you, there won't be excuses. No rcy. No "you were weaker."

He touched the center of his chest, where his second-star aura core throbbed silently like a black sun.

Still too small. Still not enough.

He rembered the wars of his past life. His blade clashing with monsters. His cape torn in fire. His back turned by allies.

By Gabriel.

That betrayal still lived in his bones like a scar that never stopped burning.

But now his brother had awakened.

It was beginning.

The story was writing itself again—but this ti, Daemon held the pen.

And he would make sure the final chapter ended with blood.