from F-Rank Heir to Dimensional Beast Tamer

"Hah."

Liam leaned on his bed, staring at the dirty, cold ceiling where a small magic stone illuminated the room from its center.

Very slowly, he raised his hand to block the light from his eyes and began to think, "It's clear that the Baron is supported by one of my brothers.

I don't think he's crazy enough to defy the Duke's orders unless someone is protecting him from execution."

He lowered his hand and sighed deeply. "There's no point in thinking about it, and no use in staying in this place."

"All I want now is to leave peacefully, but I'm sure that damned Robert won't let me go easily. So, I must escape at the first opportunity I find."

Without a hint of hesitation, he made his decision. He'd had enough of his miserable life and no longer cared about anything.

All he wanted now was freedom and a peaceful life—even if it meant abandoning everything that tied him to the Draven family.

He quickly got up from his bed and gathered his black leather bags, which were scattered across the room.

As he placed his hand on one of the bags, intending to open it, he noticed signs of inspection. However, he wasn't worried; he had already sealed his bags with a magic lock.

Without giving it much thought, he uttered, "Open."

A strange sound, like a lock disengaging, echoed in the room. A silver glow appeared briefly and then faded.

He checked his belongings and pulled out a set of strange leather scrolls that glowed faintly.

After staring at the magic scrolls for a moment, Liam let out a tired sigh. "I spent a lot of money on these scrolls, just in case things went bad. I never thought I'd need them so soon."

Each scroll contained a single spell, usable only once.

Magic scrolls were expensive items, yet common among Ascendants—especially those with non-magical classes.

In this world, there existed special individuals who possessed extraordinary abilities, capable of leveling mountains and parting rivers—either through destructive spells or supreme skills. These individuals were called "Ascendants".

Ascendants were ranked according to power, starting from the weakest and most common F-rank, up to the legendary SS-rank.

As the name suggested, Ascendants could rise through the ranks. But this was no easy feat. It required dedication, and more importantly, innate talent—something they could neither control nor change.

When humans turned fifteen, their talents awakened, determining the course of their lives.

A poor farmer's son might become a knight if he had high talent, while a Duke's son could be treated as trash if his talent was low—like Liam, who had suffered immensely due to his weakness.

After organizing his belongings, Liam picked up an offensive D-rank scroll containing a Fireball spell.

With a determined look, he tore it in two. Instantly, the scroll began to burn rapidly, and from its smoke, a fiery red beam shot out, striking his hand.

He didn't panic or feel pain—he had expected it.

He looked at his palm, and after a few seconds, a small flaming orb appeared, indicating he could now cast Fireball spell once.

"This is good." He nodded with satisfaction.

He quickly tore through the rest of his offensive and defensive scrolls.

Once finished, his palm bore six strange symbols: one shaped like a shield with a rock emblem, another a green sword, two shaped like winged shoes, and the last resembled a large, spiked metal fist.

After finishing his preparations, he tidied the room and picked up his final scroll. He opened it, and a beautiful green light emerged, covering the entire room.

The dirt vanished, all the bugs in his bed died, cobwebs burned away, and within seconds, the room sparkled as if it had never been dirty.

As soon as the magical cleaning scroll's effect ended, it dissolved into vapor and disappeared.

Tired, Liam leaned on his bed, clapped his hands, and said, "Darkness."

At once, the magic stone in the ceiling went dark, leaving the room pitch black.

After briefly thinking about his next move, he fell asleep without realizing it.

Thus passed his first night in this place—unaware of the plans being made for him in the shadows.

…..

The next morning, Liam woke up feeling refreshed. He opened his eyes, clapped his hands, and said, "Light."

The magic stone lit up. He yawned, stretched comfortably, then got up and headed to the door, intending to open it—but it was locked, just as he had expected.

He felt no anger. With great force, he knocked on the door and shouted, "Open up! I need to use the latrine."

It didn't take long for a soldier to open the door. In a stern voice, he said, "Follow me."

Liam followed the soldier through the corridors, his sharp eyes carefully inspecting his surroundings for any weaknesses he could exploit to escape.

Unfortunately, the building was constructed with strong, solid stone.

It was also guarded by several E-rank soldiers, led by a D-rank knight—making escape nearly impossible.

Still, Liam didn't give up. He knew it would take several days of careful planning to escape.

As they neared the latrine, a horrible stench struck his nose, making his pale face turn even whiter.

The soldier noticed his reaction and smirked. "This is the latrine. Hurry up."

He then pushed him roughly inside.

Liam's expression twisted as he held his breath, trying to endure the sight and smell. He clenched his fist, forced himself to do his business, and got it over with quickly.

When he exited the latrine, his eyes looked hollow. The scene he had just witnessed would likely haunt him in his dreams.

He wanted to return to his room and spray himself with perfume to erase the memory of the stench, but the guard stopped him.

"It's time for breakfast," the guard announced.

Against his will, he was escorted to the main dining hall, filled with soldiers and servants devouring their food like beasts. The food looked and smelled horrible.

Everyone cast him cold glances, then returned to their meals.

Liam ignored them and sat in a distant corner, eating his miserable meal of cold soup and a piece of black bread.

Just as he was about to finish, three strong guards surrounded him and sternly ordered, "Come with us. It's time to work—this food you're eating isn't free."

Without resistance, he followed them to the stables, where he was assigned to clean and tend to the horses.

He felt deeply humiliated, but said nothing.

He endured and carried out every task assigned to him. And so, three days of suffering passed, filled with menial labor.

He shoveled manure, scrubbed floors, prepared food, tilled the land, ground wheat, got dirty, stumbled, and suffered both physical and emotional pain.

Yet, he didn't complain.

He waited in silence, biding his time for a suitable chance to escape.

…..

On the fourth day, while working in a field far from the castle, Liam found the opportunity he'd been waiting for.

Slowly, he pulled a heavy iron plow, tilling the land like a slave. But unlike usual, he wasn't gritting his teeth—he was calm.

He carefully observed the area, focusing on the three soldiers assigned to guard him.

Due to the scorching sun, the soldiers had taken shelter under a distant tree, leaving him alone to toil.

"Bastards," he muttered under his breath.

Without hesitation, he threw aside the plow, clenched his fist—now marked with spell symbols—and whispered, "Wind Steps, release."

The shoe symbol on his palm shattered, and the wind around him shifted strangely, gathering at his feet.

He suddenly felt incredibly light.

The guards sensed the disturbance in the surrounding mana. They turned quickly and saw his feet enveloped in transparent wind shoes.

Their expressions shifted in horror.

They stood up and ran toward him, shouting, "Stop!"

But Liam didn't care.

He sprinted at full speed toward the nearby forest, hoping to use the dense trees for cover.