The large hall of the Ardentis estate was dimly lit, with only a few flickering candle chandeliers casting shadows against the deep mahogany walls. The long dining table was set with the finest cuisine—succulent meat, aromatic wine, delicately arranged side dishes—all prepared with the utmost care.

  Yet, for Lucius, the food before him was nothing more than an illusion.

  The moment he had stepped into the hall, a crushing weight had descended upon him, making the air feel thick and suffocating. It was an invisible force, one that only someone sensitive to mana could detect—Duke Magnus’ aura.

  Lucius had encountered many powerful figures in his previous life as Lucien, a master strategist who had stood in the presence of emperors and high-ranking dukes, but none of them had ever exuded such terrifying pressure.

  “Is it because I have become weaker… or is it because this man—my father—is simply that powerful?”

  Lucius steadied his breathing, clenching his fists under the table to prevent his hands from shaking. He picked up his fork with precise, deliberate movements and forced himself to eat, though his body screamed in agony with every bite.

  At the head of the table, Duke Magnus silently observed his son, his dark crimson eyes betraying no emotion.

  “He came much earlier than expected.”

  Cassius had first faced this trial at sixteen. He had endured the pressure for six minutes before his body gave in.

  Julius had managed to last nine minutes, earning Magnus’ recognition as a potential heir.

  Yet now, at only nine years old, Lucius was already seated here.

  “Just how long will this one last?”

  The clock ticked mercilessly.

  — Five minutes passed.

  Lucius was still holding on, though sweat dripped from his temples. His fork trembled slightly, but his posture remained upright and disciplined.

  "He’s still enduring… but how much longer?"

  — Ten minutes passed.

  Duke Magnus lifted his wine glass, taking a slow sip as he watched Lucius with mild curiosity.

  At this point, Cassius and Julius had already collapsed .

  Yet Lucius remained seated, swallowing his food carefully, controlling his breath.

  — Fifteen minutes.

  Duke Magnus' fingers tapped the table once, a sign of genuine intrigue.

  "This boy... he is different."

  Even Julius and Cassius might not last this long today, yet Lucius—the son he had long dismissed—was still pushing forward.

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  For the first time, doubt crept into Magnus’ mind.

  "Did I fail to see his potential?"

  "Was it my own pride that blinded me?"

  "Reynard… was right about him."

  Across the table, Lucius bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood, using the sharp pain to keep himself grounded. He had secretly reinforced his body with mana, but even with enhancement, the oppressive weight was unbearable.

  "I can't fall here. This is a test. I have to last."

  — Thirty minutes.

  Duke Magnus was no longer merely observing. He was shocked.

  Even he hadn’t expected Lucius to last this long.

  "This isn’t just talent… This is something else entirely."

  Lucius, however, was reaching his limit. His limbs were screaming in pain. His vision blurred at the edges.

  Then—without warning—the pressure doubled.

  A sharp, invisible force crashed down on him, heavier than before. His chest tightened. His vision darkened.

  Lucius gasped—his body seized up.

  "No—this is different. This isn't Magnus’ aura—it's someone else!"

  A deep voice broke the silence.

  "Now, Magnus… What do you think of this boy?"

  From the shadows behind Magnus, Marshal Reynard stepped forward, his piercing golden eyes locked onto Lucius' trembling form.

  Duke Magnus remained silent.

  Lucius tried to endure, but the added pressure broke his defenses. His body collapsed onto the table, his consciousness slipping away.

  A moment of stillness passed.

  Then, Magnus finally spoke.

  "You infused your aura."

  It wasn’t a question—it was a statement. His voice was calm, but the air carried a dangerous edge.

  Reynard smirked. "You’re sharper than before, brother. I barely added anything."

  Magnus placed his wine glass down, his expression unreadable.

  "You purposely increased the weight of the test… why?"

  Reynard’s gaze shifted to Lucius’ unconscious body.

  "Because you refused to see the truth."

  Magnus didn’t respond immediately.

  Instead, he leaned back, fingers interlocked. His expression remained cold, but internally…

  "I was wrong about him."

  For nine years, Magnus had believed Lucius was the weakest of his sons. A disgrace. A failure.

  But now, before him, was a child who had surpassed even his most talented heirs in sheer endurance and willpower.

  He regretted ignoring Lucius all these years.

  But he would never admit it.

  Magnus: "You always had a habit of interfering where you weren’t needed, Reynard."

  Reynard: "And you always had a habit of ignoring what was in front of you, Magnus."

  Magnus: "He is still far from perfect. His body is weak."

  Reynard: "Weak? Then tell me, which of your other sons lasted thirty minutes?"

  Magnus: "That alone is not enough."

  Reynard: "Then what is enough? Do you want him to fight dragons next? Would you rather break him completely before acknowledging him?"

  Magnus: "I only recognize strength. The world only recognizes strength. Do you expect me to coddle him?"

  Reynard: "Coddle him? No. But you've already wasted nine years denying his existence."

  Magnus remained silent.

  Reynard smirked, his voice taunting.

  Reynard: "It’s amusing, really. You claim to be a man who values power above all else… and yet, for nine years, you refused to look at the most promising talent in your house."

  Magnus’ gaze darkened. "Are you implying I made a mistake?"

  Reynard met his brother’s stare without hesitation. "No, Magnus. I’m saying you made the biggest mistake of your life."

  Silence fell between them.

  Magnus exhaled, his eyes returning to Lucius' unconscious form.

  Finally, he spoke.

  Magnus: "Very well. If he survives his next trial, I will consider him."

  Reynard chuckled. "Ah… so the great Duke Magnus does have regrets after all."

  Magnus ignored the comment.

  Instead, he gave one last order.

  Magnus: "Prepare him for his duel. If he wins… I will acknowledge him."

  Reynard: "And if he loses?"

  Magnus’ cold voice rang through the empty hall.

  Magnus: "Then he was never worthy in the first place."

  "The duel is next."