The bright sunlight filtered into the room, forcing Xavier to wake up, but he was actually refreshed. He yawned and gradually sat up. He looked over to where Aria was comfortably still sleeping and smiled slightly.
Suddenly, the system interface opened up before him and he glanced at the contents.
[The system had a mandatory update, so it updated in your sleep.]
Xavier was surprised at that. "I wasn’t even aware of an update. What’s it all about?"
[Please check your status.]
Xavier swiftly moved over to the status and checked it, expecting sothing to be different.
[Status]
[Na:] Xavier Reaper
[Age:] 17
[Lineage:] The Black Race
[Lineage Special Ability:] locked.
[Weapon summoned:] Zenrokushu Gauntlets (D-rank), Burning Lion Shield (B-rank), Shadowfang Daggers (A-rank)
"What the--" Xavier muttered, his eyes widening. "What do you an by Lineage. I’m sure I’m not from any Lineage.]
[The host is in a new world, where his skin colour is considered special, so it has been appropriately awarded to the host.]
Xavier was shocked at that. Now, it was all making sense to him. He finally understood why everybody was looking at him strangely, not to ntion the strange reaction on both Ostig and Bella’s faces when they saw him for the first ti. His skin colour was special and judging by the Lineage Special Ability, his race was powerful.
And now, they had not been seen for twenty years, as Bella’s mother had said. That ans his skin colour had just beco a huge target on his back.
"Dammit," he muttered, placing his hand on his curly hair in frustration. "How lucky I am."
He noticed that Aria had finally woken up and was staring at him. "Is anything wrong with Master?" She asked, her face a mask of worry as she had noticed the expression on his face.
Xavier quickly looked up. "Everything’s fine. You don’t need to worry."
He got up from the bed. "You should go back to your room and dress up. We need to get going."
Aria nodded, as she got up and left the room to dress. Xavier walked into the bathroom, quickly showered, and dressed himself in the robes that Ostig had kindly bought for him.
"I’ll definitely need to repay him back," Xavier muttered.
He walked back into the room, sitting down while waiting for Aria.
"System, " he asked. "Please show my stats."
Level: 18
Strength:66 /1000
Stamina: 75/1000
Speed: 90/1000
Endurance: 87/1000
Dexterity:74/100
Xavier looked at it, pleased that he had gone far, but he knew he wasn’t even close to having his revenge. He had to get stronger quickly. It was then that he rembered his forr classmates.
Back then on Earth, he stood up for them. He protected them, especially the creep he and Derek were betrayed by. Bella was one of his friends, but she couldn’t even look at him. Dennis, that fucking bastard, he should have beaten the shit out of him when he had the chance.
But the only person who hurt him the most.
Brian.
His own best friend.
Xavier squeezed his fist in anger as he rembered his face. He didn’t stand up for him. He could have said anything, but no, he didn’t.
He was the person he really wanted to kill. He had allowed him to die.
The sudden door knocking had snapped him out of his thoughts. Xavier got up and opened it. It was Aria and she was ready. The duo walked down the stairs and made their way to the diner.
As expected, it was full to the brim. Guests are enjoying breakfast and discussing among themselves. Xavier’s handiwork had been cleaned up, and now the diner looked presentable.
Xavier noticed Ostig and walked over to his table. The latter looked up and saw him and smiled.
"Xavier, glad to see you’re awake and fresh." He spoke, smiling.
"It’s thanks to you." Xavier smiled, sitting down with Aria. "Thank you again. You don’t know how much it ans to ."
Ostig chuckled. "No need to thank . The repaynt was putting on a show against those bastards yesterday. I don’t think they’ll be showing their face anyti soon."
Xavier chuckled at that. "So you’re leaving today?"
"Yes, I need to sell my goods," Ostig replied. "What about you?"
"We’re going to register as an adventurer. Need the money and the fa,."
"Of course, it’s most people’s dream. You’re no different. Tell you what, why don’t after breakfast, take you there. Is that okay?"
"I would have to accept then," Xavier replied, smoothly.
Bella walked to their table, serving the al they had ordered, and the three of them ate to their hearts’ content. Soon after they were done, Xavier and Aria followed Ostig to his carriage and they sat inside. The carriage took off, going in the direction of their destination.
-------
The office of Baron Thomas slled of ink, old parchnt, and the faint tang of brandy. Heavy curtains blocked the winter light, leaving the room in a dim amber glow cast by a single oil lamp. Behind a desk cluttered with maps and sealed letters sat the Baron himself—a ginger-haired man with a pot belly that strained against his velvet waistcoat, his curled mustache twitching as he stared at the papers before him.
His fingers drumd against the desk, slow and deliberate, as though each tap carried the weight of a decision he could not undo. The fire in the hearth crackled, but it did little to warm the chill that hung in the air. His eyes, sharp despite his weary fra, lingered on a single docunt—its seal broken, its words damning.
He knew what he had done.
The ink on the page was proof of it. A betrayal written in his own hand. A bargain struck in shadows. A choice that, if discovered, would be branded as treason against crown and country.
And yet, Baron Thomas did not flinch. His mustache twitched into a grim line, his belly rising with a deep breath as he leaned back in his chair. He had not done it for himself. He had not done it for power.
He had done it for Mayfair Town.
The town that depended on him, the people who trusted him, the land that would wither without his gamble. Whatever the world might call him—a traitor, a coward, a criminal—he knew the truth. He had sacrificed honor for survival.
And now, as the lamp flickered and the shadows deepened, Baron Thomas waited. For the knock at the door. For the reckoning that was sure to co.
But it wasn’t going to be the right ti.
The heavy silence of Baron Thomas’s office was broken by the creak of the door. The Baron, ginger-haired and pot-bellied, his curled mustache twitching as he leaned back in his chair, looked up from the papers scattered across his desk.
A knight stepped inside—the captain of his guard. His armor was scuffed, his face grim, his posture stiff with unease. He bowed quickly, then spoke.
"My lord... There has been a disturbance. A fight involving our soldiers. At the inn."
Baron Thomas’s mustache twitched again. He frowned, his voice sharp.
"And why," he asked slowly, "has this been brought to my attention? Soldiers brawling in taverns is hardly news worth dragging into my office."
The captain hesitated, his jaw tightening. Then he said the words that froze the Baron in place.
"Because the one who defeated them... was black."
The Baron’s eyes widened. His chair creaked as he leaned forward, his belly pressing against the desk. His voice cracked with disbelief.
"Impossible. A black human has not been seen in twenty years. They vanished. Erased from the land. You expect to believe one suddenly appears in Mayfair?"
The captain’s voice was steady, though his eyes betrayed unease.
"I saw it myself, my lord. It is true. He fought with strength beyond asure. He broke Chrus’s arm as if it were nothing. The others fell just as quickly."
Baron Thomas’s hand trembled slightly as he stroked his mustache. His mind raced. Treason already weighed hheavilyon him, but this... this was sothing else. Sothing dangerous. He dismissed the captain with a wave of his hand, his voice low and curt.
"Leave . And speak of this to no one."
The captain bowed and departed, the door closing behind him.
Baron Thomas rose from his chair, his belly straining against his waistcoat, and moved toward a hidden door at the back of his office. He pressed his hand against a carved sigil, and the panel slid open with a hiss. Beyond lay a narrow passage, dimly lit, leading to a chamber few had ever seen.
Inside, the air was colder, heavier. At its center stood a figure cloaked in shadow—a Higher Demaranian. Its form was tall, imposing, its eyes glowing faintly with predatory light. The Baron bowed his head, sweat beading on his brow.
"My lord," Thomas whispered, his voice trembling. "I have committed treason. For Mayfair. For survival. But now... sothing has happened. A black human has appeared. He defeated my knights."
The Demaranian’s gaze sharpened, its voice deep and resonant, vibrating through the chamber.
"Leave him to . Do not interfere. But find out where he went. Track him. Watch him. Then report back."
Baron Thomas swallowed hard, his ginger mustache twitching nervously. He nodded, his voice barely audible.
"Yes... my lord."
The Demaranian stepped closer, its shadow stretching across the chamber. Its lips curled into a smile, sharp and unsettling.
"Interesting," it murmured.
The word lingered in the air like a curse, echoing in Baron Thomas’s mind as he backed away, knowing that whatever path he had chosen for Mayfair was now entwined with sothing far darker.
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