Riven turned his head.

From the cobblestone path that cut across the courtyard toward the back gate, a woman stood with her arms crossed, her face filled with irritation. Her pale blond hair was neatly tied back, and her dark blue gown, adorned with silver embroidery on the chest, made it obvious she belonged to nobility. From her proud posture and the judgmental glint in her eyes, she was clearly not someone ordinary.

A short distance behind her, a servant followed closely. Judging from her movements, she was likely the woman’s personal maid.

The noblewoman walked closer with firm steps. Her shoes pressed against the gravel, each click of her heel sounding more like she was approaching an intruder than greeting a guest.

“Answer me!” she snapped. “Are you a new worker? Or a thief sneaking around at dawn? If so, you’ve picked the wrong place.”

Riven frowned but didn’t answer right away. His breathing was still heavy, and he focused more on steadying his emotions than reacting to her arrogance.

“I’m not a thief,” he replied flatly.

The woman narrowed her eyes, glancing at the sword still in Riven’s hand. “Then why are you swinging that blade in the Rathsture family courtyard as if it belongs to you? Who are you?”

Riven raised an eyebrow, his tone cold. “Shouldn’t you introduce yourself first before demanding someone else do the same?”

Her brow twitched. She clearly hadn’t expected this peasant-looking man to talk back.

“I’m Lyanna Rathsture,” she said quickly. “Daughter of the current head of the family. And you… don’t look like someone who belongs here.”

Riven had already guessed as much.

From the moment he saw her arrogant stance and self-important expression, he knew she had to be a Rathsture. He wasn’t intimidated, though. He exhaled slowly and replied calmly, “I came here as a guest of Her Majesty, the Queen.”

For a split second, Lyanna’s expression shifted. Her brow creased slightly, though she masked it behind that sharp, imperious gaze.

She recalled her conversation earlier that morning with her older brother. He’d told her, with a mix of confusion and disbelief, that Queen Ashtoria had arrived unexpectedly last night—with two commoners in tow. Strangely, the Queen had even ordered that the three of them be placed in the same room.

Lyanna, like her brother, assumed the mad queen was planning to toy with them, maybe as some twisted form of amusement. But if they were out here now, sweating and still alive, perhaps she had been wrong.

Her eyes drifted to the shade of a large tree at the edge of the courtyard. There, a young girl sat cross-legged, eyes closed, breathing slow and even. A faint aura of mana rippled around her, she was meditating.

Lyanna turned back to Riven. “I see.”

She paused for a moment, her eyes scanning him up and down—the sweat-soaked shirt, the tense muscles, the labored breathing.

“Commoners like you really do have to work hard, don’t you?” she said evenly, her tone laced with mock sympathy. “You must be… very diligent.”

Riven said nothing. Inwardly, he sighed and muttered to himself:

This is exactly why I hate nobles.

Even their insults came dressed in courtesy—soft, refined, and twice as cutting.

He stayed silent, expression steady, unprovoked. He stood like stone, letting her words pass him by.

Lyanna noticed. Her eyes narrowed slightly before a faint smile tugged at her lips, one that never reached her eyes.

“With training that intense, I suppose your talent must be remarkable?” she said, her tone teasing. Then, louder and with more pride, she added, “If I may ask, what’s your Talent and Affinity rank?”

She didn’t wait for an answer before boasting about her own.

“As for me, I’m B-Rank—Resonant,” she said proudly. “And my Affinity… is Berserk.”

The last word was spoken with deliberate weight. She knew the Rathsture family’s affinity was among the strongest and saw no reason to hide it—especially in front of a commoner like Riven.

To her, Riven was just some unknown man the Queen had dragged along for mysterious reasons. But if the Queen herself had brought him and even placed him in her quarters, then perhaps there was something special about him—some hidden talent, maybe even power.

It happened occasionally, after all: a commoner born with extraordinary potential.

And Lyanna wanted to know if she was standing before one of those rare exceptions.

Riven exhaled slowly, sounding tired more than annoyed.

Complimenting a commoner for working hard, then asking about his “talent”—that was just an elegant insult. A game nobles played to make people feel small without ever raising their voices.

If the person answered that their rank was low, the shame would plant itself quietly in their mind. That voice would whisper: Why bother training so hard? You’ll never catch up to them.

But Riven, who had long lived in a world where fairness was a myth, didn’t care for such games.

“I don’t know,” he said simply. “I’ve never been tested.”

He spoke it casually, as though it meant nothing at all.

Lyanna didn’t laugh like he expected. Instead, she opened her folding fan and raised it delicately to cover her mouth—a graceful gesture that only made her hidden amusement more obvious.

Riven could practically see the smug smile behind that fan, the satisfaction of knowing this “peasant” didn’t even know his own rank.

Weariness crept in. He had no patience left for the hollow pride of nobles.

So he replied in a tone as formal and measured as hers. “My lady, are you truly so free that you have time to stand around here?”

The fan closed with a soft click. Lyanna lowered it, her mocking smile fading.

“I just finished my history class on Eldoria,” she said with poise. “And soon I’ll begin training to refine my affinity.”

She turned gracefully to leave. “Since I still have things to do, I’ll be going now.”

Riven sighed in relief. Finally. Maybe he wouldn’t have to see her again today.

But after only two steps, Lyanna glanced back over her shoulder.

“Even if your talent isn’t visible,” she said softly, “if you keep training diligently, you might still become a Mage one day. Just a word of advice, don’t push yourself too hard.”

Her tone was gentle, almost kind. But Riven knew better. That wasn’t advice, it was the final twist of the knife.

He watched her walk away. He couldn’t see her face anymore, but he knew what she was thinking.

No matter how hard you work, it will never matter.

Riven let out a quiet snort. He wasn’t angry, not even irritated. After years of surviving as a nobody in a world that crushed the weak, he’d learned to tune out the noise.

The important thing was that she was gone.

But just as he turned back toward his training, a faint breeze stirred from where Melly sat meditating under the tree.

Riven’s instincts kicked in. He turned sharply—

And froze.

A small vortex of wind swirled around his sister. The dried leaves nearby lifted and spun in the air, and the ends of Melly’s dark hair floated gently, as if wrapped in an unseen force.

Lyanna, sensing the mana fluctuation, turned as well. Her eyes narrowed.

It began as nothing more than a faint breeze—but within moments, something extraordinary started to unfold. Both Riven and Lyanna blinked, realizing at once that this… was not normal.

.

.

.

[Author’s Note]

Sorry guys, this week I’ve been super busy and a bit unwell, so I couldn’t update as usual. I’ll be back as soon as I stop dying inside lol. Thanks you!

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep