Heir to Nothing

I lay on my bed, every inch of my body screaming. It felt like my bones had cracked, my muscles torn apart and stitched back together with fire. Aura training… it wasn't just hard — it was torture.

I'd made a little progress today, sure. But I still couldn't circulate aura naturally. I had to force it — grip it tight, bend it to my will — or it would slip through me like smoke. Until I could command it instinctively, I was nothing more than a beginner stumbling in the dark.

As I sank deeper into my thoughts, I heard the door click open.

Liana stepped inside.

She wore her usual worker's uniform, simple and plain… yet somehow, she always made it look elegant. In her hands was a tray — much bigger than usual — and the moment she stepped in, the scent hit me.

It wasn't the bland, protein-packed meals they served to knights. It was rich. Warm. Seasoned perfectly. Meat — juicy, tender steak — with glistening sauce still steaming, and a drink that looked far too fancy for this fortress. I didn't even know if it was alcoholic, but that wasn't the point.

This wasn't just a meal. It was a feast.

I sat up slowly, stunned.

"Where… did you get this?" I asked, my voice hoarse. "This looks expensive."

Liana smiled, placing the tray down gently in front of me.

"We're celebrating," she said simply. "Your advancement."

I blinked. "I didn't think we planned anything."

"Oh, that," she waved her hand like it was nothing. "I've been saving up. Working in the mess hall pays well enough, and I don't really have much to spend it on."

I looked at her, speechless.

"You bought all this… just for me?"

She nodded. "Of course. I asked the head cook if she could help me prepare something special. She said yes and even gave me a discount when she found out it was for you."

A warmth bloomed in my chest — not the kind that came from food, but from something deeper. Something that I hadn't felt in a long, long time.

"Thank you," I said quietly, not quite trusting my voice.

She just smiled, pulled up a chair, and sat beside me.

"Eat before it gets cold."

I cut into the steak with my knife — the blade gliding through the meat like silk. Just the smell was enough to make my mouth water. I lifted a piece with my fork and took a bite.

It melted on my tongue.

Tender. Juicy. Seasoned perfectly. Each bite seemed to dissolve into warmth, the kind that reached beyond my stomach and spread through my chest.

"It's delicious," I murmured, honestly surprised.

Liana smiled, her eyes lighting up like a child praised for a drawing. "Thanks. I made it."

"You made this?" I looked at her, stunned. "I didn't know you could cook like that. You're a chef now?"

She chuckled. "Back at the main house, I learned a lot from the head chef. But I never had the chance to actually cook much myself. Just watched and helped around. Now… I finally got to use it."

Her voice was soft, almost nostalgic. But instead of feeling happy, something inside me twisted.

A dull ache bloomed in my chest.

Even if it wasn't my fault, even if I wasn't truly the same Kael Thorne who brought her here… I still felt it. The guilt. The regret. The weight.

"Sorry."

The word slipped out of my mouth before I realized.

She blinked. "Sorry? Why are you apologizing?"

I stared at the plate in front of me.

"It's because of me… you're here. In this backwater fortress. Working like this. If I hadn't—if I had been better—you'd still be in the main house, living comfortably. You wouldn't have to serve me or suffer."

I didn't even know why I was saying it. Maybe it wasn't my voice at all. Maybe it was the original Kael's feelings spilling out through mine — the remorse he never got to speak.

Liana stood up.

For a second, I thought she might walk away. But instead, she moved behind me… and gently wrapped her arms around my shoulders.

Her warmth sank into my bones — quiet, steady, real. And I didn't realize how cold I'd been until that very moment.

"It's okay," she whispered. "It's not your fault."

I swallowed, my throat tight.

"No matter what happened, no matter what anyone says, I'll still stay by your side. You don't remember, but once… when I had no one, you were there for me. You saved me, Kael. And now, it's my turn. So stop thinking about me, just this once. Be selfish. Do what you need to do. I'll be right behind you."

My eyes stayed locked forward, unable to turn, unable to speak.

"…Thank you."

She released me quietly, walking back to sit in front of me.

"Now eat before it gets cold."

I gave a small nod and returned to my food. We didn't speak after that. But the silence between us wasn't uncomfortable. It was comforting — soft, like a blanket after a long day of battle.

After we finished, she picked up the tray and gave me a gentle goodnight before leaving the room.

The door closed behind her.

I lay back down on my bed. Every part of my body ached — not just from today, but from everything over the past two months. I knew I still had time left tonight. Two more hours of mana training. But…

Tonight, I didn't want to train.

I just wanted to rest. To breathe. To allow this rare peace to linger a little longer.

I opened my status screen.

Nothing had changed.

Of course it hadn't. I just advanced today — change wouldn't come instantly. But I knew this was only the beginning.

I turned off the screen and let my eyes close.

The darkness in the room felt gentle tonight. Not suffocating, not lonely — but almost like a lullaby, whispering me to sleep.

And for the first time in a long while… I did.

Morning came swiftly.

The sky was still painted in soft orange hues when I stood once more on the training grounds. But unlike the lonely mornings of the past, this time… I wasn't alone.

I was standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the Knights of Thorne.

Instructor Gareth stood in front of us, his arms behind his back, his presence as heavy as ever. His sharp gaze swept across the row of armored trainees before landing on me for a brief second. I straightened unconsciously.

"Today," he said, his voice loud and commanding, "we're adding weight limiters. Get used to training under strain—because the world will never give you a fair fight."

One by one, we were handed strange devices.

Small, circular, and made of some sleek black alloy, they looked more like polished cuffs than training gear. I received five — one for each wrist, each ankle, and one for my waist.

"They're called Graviton Bands," Gareth explained. "Made by House Ashford. They multiply the effective weight on your body several times over, depending on the calibration. Today, you'll be starting at Level 1."

I fastened the bands around my limbs and waist. Almost immediately, I felt the difference — like chains suddenly draped across my body. It wasn't unbearable, but it was enough to slow my movements and drag on my stamina.

Every step felt heavier.

As I adjusted to the strain, a thought crossed my mind.

How do they even make things like this?

Despite being a world driven by magic, the Human Federation wasn't lacking in technology. Especially not House Ashford.

Among the noble families, House Ashford stood alone in their mastery of innovation. While the Dwarves were the true pinnacle of technological advancement — inventing weapons, forging artificial constructs, and crafting things that defied logic — they kept to themselves.

Only House Ashford had a trade agreement with them.

That made them the sole bridge between dwarven innovation and the human world. And because of that, they held a monopoly over high-end tech in the Federation — from mana amplifiers and enchanted armor to training gear like these Graviton Bands.

Not as brilliant as the Dwarves… but still dangerously clever.

These bands were just a taste of what they could do.

I looked around. The knights around me were already moving, adapting to the new weight as if it were routine. Their armor clanked with each motion, but none of them faltered.