Ex rank talent Awakening: 100% Dodge rate

Thomas lay in his castle, his thoughts conflicted. He had received a call from his family to return. What should have been an easy decision for him—and a thing of joy—left him with a tough choice, one that weighed heavily on his heart.

"What exactly do they want with a failure?" he muttered under his breath, his gaze distant, staring at the towering ceiling above his bed. Memories flooded back, bitter and raw, resurfacing like wounds that had never truly healed. He could still remember the cold, indifferent look the family head had given him the day they cast him aside, announcing his exile from the family for being weak.

The Sword Family.

A family that lived and breathed the blade. An entire lineage devoted to the pursuit of sword mastery, refining their techniques, perfecting their strikes, and reaching for a level of unity with the sword that bordered on the divine. To be born into such a family was to be born into expectation—and Thomas, once called Dual Blade, had once shared that dream.

At first, growing up in the Sword Family had been exciting. The tales of legendary ancestors, the training, the discipline—it all stirred something fierce in his young heart. Like every other child, he dreamed of rising through the ranks, becoming the most powerful swordsman the family had ever seen. Maybe, just maybe, even succeeding the family head.

But those dreams crumbled quickly—faster than any other child his age.

---

Years ago...

Young Thomas stood expectantly at the edge of the sacred grounds, his eyes wide with wonder and nervous anticipation. In front of him stretched the Valley of the Swords, a vast, solemn space where hundreds—no, thousands—of swords of different types, shapes, and ages were impaled into the ground like silent sentinels.

This valley wasn't just a family relic. It was a rite of passage.

Every child of the Sword Family, upon reaching the age of ten, would make the pilgrimage to this valley. One by one, they would step into the sacred space, and within it, a sword would choose its wielder. The bond forged here would determine their future in the family. The deeper into the valley the sword that chose you was located, the greater your potential.

Thomas's heart beat fast. He clapped eagerly for the other kids as one by one they were chosen by the swords—some near the entrance, some deep into the valley. All of them had their moment. All of them walked away with something.

He waited.

He smiled.

He believed.

"Thomas Sword, step forward," the supervisor called, his voice carrying across the silent field.

Thomas's smile widened. His heart swelled with anticipation. This was it.

He stepped forward, his legs slightly trembling, but his resolve strong. He approached the edge of the valley.

"Enter the valley," the supervisor ordered.

Thomas nodded and moved. Or at least he tried to. But his foot met resistance. There was... a barrier. An invisible wall pushing him back.

He blinked in confusion and tried again.

Nothing.

He pushed harder.

Still nothing.

The invisible force wouldn't let him in.

"What are you doing? Don't waste my time—enter the valley!" the supervisor barked, impatience creeping into his voice.

"I... I can't... I can't enter," Thomas said softly, panic slowly rising in his chest. His small hands trembled, and his voice was laced with fear. He didn't understand. Why?

The supervisor scowled, thinking the boy was playing a joke.

"I said, go in!" he growled, shoving Thomas forward with force.

BAM!

The invisible force reacted violently, repelling Thomas with a burst of power. The boy flew backward, tumbling to the ground with a sharp cry.

Silence fell like a curtain.

Everyone stared.

"Did he just bounce back?"

"Woah... that can happen?"

Whispers and murmurs broke out among the children.

"Enough!" the supervisor snapped, regaining his composure. He looked at Thomas with a cold expression. "Thomas... you have been rejected by all the swords and deemed unworthy to wield any."

The words hit harder than the repulsion.

"It can't... it can't be..." Thomas whispered, slowly getting up, scrapes covering his arms. Tears welled up in his eyes.

"Sir, please! Just one more try. This has to be a mistake! Please!" he pleaded, his voice breaking.

"Enough! I have more students to attend to. Do not test my patience further, or the consequences will be dire," the supervisor warned, his glare sharp.

Thomas knew he couldn't press further. Swallowing his pain, he walked away, the weight of disgrace already bearing down on his small shoulders.

---

The whispers followed him. Two years passed, but the shame never left.

"There he is. The trash not chosen by any sword."

"The ultimate failure."

Those words were burned into his memory.

He had been scorned, mocked, and abandoned by everyone. Even his so-called friends disappeared when he needed them most. Isolated and alone, he adapted to solitude, burying his pain deep within.

One day, a guard appeared.

"Thomas, the family head has requested your presence."

Thomas nodded wordlessly, his body moving before his mind could catch up. He couldn't afford to be late. Not now.

He knelt before the imposing figure of the family head. His heart thumped in his chest.

He didn't know what this summons meant.

Punishment?

A second chance?

Hope flickered within him.

"So, you are Thomas... the child without talent for the sword," the family head said, his voice cold.

The words struck like a blade.

Thomas clenched his fists, forcing himself to remain composed.

"Yes, I am Thomas, Patriarch," he answered, raising his eyes to meet the family head's gaze.

He didn't know what fate awaited him next—but whatever it was, he would face it head on.

The patriarch was impressed. Thomas's eyes held a fighting spirit he hadn't seen in a long time. Despite being beaten down and trampled by everyone around him, the boy still stood tall—still hoping, still believing he could change his fate.

That look in Thomas's eyes—the fire, the defiance, the unyielding belief in his own potential—was exactly what the patriarch had long searched for in the younger generation. Yet time and time again, he had been disappointed. They were too privileged, too entitled, too reliant on the strength handed down to them.

But not this one. Not the so-called failure. In the eyes of the clan's greatest disgrace, the patriarch finally saw the one thing he thought was lost—will.