Lucien's eyes remained calm—almost cold. The piercing blue of his gaze seemed to cut through the disorder like a blade of ice. He stood motionless, his slender frame deceptively relaxed, yet there was a coiled tension in his shoulders that the more observant elders noticed immediately.
He already knew who the traitor was.
In the original timeline—in the novel he had read in his previous life before being reborn as Lucien Arkanveil—that man had been a slow poison to both him and the Arkanveil family. The knowledge from his past life washed over him like a tide, memories of words on pages that detailed this very moment. A junior instructor named Darren Morrow, seemingly unconnected to any major families, responsible for mentoring the younger generation. Darren had praised and flattered Lucien endlessly, feeding his arrogance, encouraging laziness, and steering him away from proper training regimens.
"Young master Lucien doesn't need such harsh disciplines," Darren had often said. "His natural talent far exceeds what these outdated methods can enhance."
Words that had once seemed like recognition of his genius now rang hollow in Lucien's memory. It was one of the key reasons the original Lucien had fallen from grace—why he had become the disgraced scion, the laughingstock of the magical community.
That man... was a spy planted by the Vaelthorn family. His humble facade and apparent mediocrity had been the perfect cover, allowing him to infiltrate the Arkanveil compound without suspicion.
In the original novel, Darren hadn't directly helped the Liberation assassins. His role had been subtler—to weaken the next generation, particularly Lucien, ensuring the Arkanveil family would gradually lose power and influence over decades.
But now, circumstances had changed. Lucien's unexpected rise, his demonstration of unprecedented talent , his growing reputation—all had accelerated the timeline. The Vaelthorn family saw Lucien as a growing threat, an enemy who could one day surpass them. They couldn't afford to wait for his slow degradation.
This time, the traitor acted early—hoping to erase Lucien before he could fully bloom into the threat they feared.
Lucien inhaled slowly, feeling the muted anger coursing through his veins. The knowledge from his past life, the novel he had read before his rebirth into this world, combined with his personal experiences in this new reality, created a perfect clarity of understanding. The pieces aligned in his mind like a deadly puzzle.
Then, infusing his voice with mana so that it echoed like a hammer striking an anvil, he declared:
"I know who the traitor is."
The entire hall fell silent. Eyes turned toward him in shock and disbelief. Even his grandfather, the imposing patriarch of the Arkanveil family, stared at him with narrowed eyes that held equal parts suspicion and interest.
"Lucien," his mother's voice was tight with concern. "This is no time for—"
"Follow me," Lucien interrupted, turning on his heel, his blue robes swirling around him. The authority in his voice was so unexpected from a fifteen-year-old boy that several elders found themselves moving before they had consciously decided to do so.
Without another word, Lucien led his family through the twisting corridors of the training grounds. He moved with purpose, navigating the labyrinthine pathways with a familiarity that seemed impossible for someone who was new. But in his past life, he had read every detail of these pathways in the novel. The fictional Lucien had discovered this secret much too late—after the family had already been ruined. But this Lucien, armed with knowledge from beyond this world, would change destiny.
The whispers started behind him.
"How could he know?"
"The boy speaks beyond his place."
"Perhaps it's a diversion..."
Lucien ignored them all. The memories from his previous life, of the novel he had read before his rebirth, gave him knowledge that no one in this world could possibly possess. In the original story, the hidden chamber had been discovered only after the Arkanveil family had fallen into decline, when renovations were being made to convert their once-proud holdings into a public training facility. But now, armed with foreknowledge, Lucien could change everything.
He stopped in front of an old, seemingly ordinary toilet area. The facilities were ancient, used primarily by instructors and servants who maintained the outer training grounds.
"Below here," Lucien stated simply.
Elder Morvain scoffed. "This is absurd. We're following a child to an old latrine? What next, shall we inspect the kitchen pantry?"
But Lucien's grandfather raised his hand, silencing the complaints. "Let the boy speak."
Using a hidden mechanism he had learned of from his memories of the original timeline, Lucien activated a trigger hidden behind a loose stone near the floor. He pressed his mana into it—a specific signature that resonated with the ancient security system.
A rumbling sound echoed as the ground split open, revealing a narrow staircase leading underground. Stale air rushed upward, carrying the faint scent of ink and metal.
"How did you..." Lady Iseult's voice trailed off, her earlier skepticism evaporating.
"I've been studying our family's architectural history," Lucien lied smoothly. It was a plausible explanation—he was known for his voracious reading habits. He could hardly tell them the truth: that he had read this exact scene in a fantasy novel where the fictional Lucien had failed to uncover this plot until it was far too late.
Torches were lit with mana fire, and the Arkanveil family descended into the hidden chamber, their faces grim with anticipation. The staircase wound downward in a tight spiral, the walls inscribed with faded protection runes that had been inactive for decades.
The chamber itself was small, perhaps twenty feet across, its ceiling low enough that Lucien's grandfather had to stoop slightly. Ancient arcane instruments lined the walls—devices for communication across vast distances, tools for surveillance, and equipment for creating magical forgeries.
There, in the musty darkness, piles of evidence lay stacked upon a central table—coded communication scrolls, Liberation insignias, a hidden portal key set to coordinates deep within Vaelthorn territory, and poisoned weapons intended for use within the family walls. Most damning of all was a detailed map of the Arkanveil compound with security patterns and patrol schedules meticulously documented.
The family elders' faces darkened as they examined the evidence. Their expressions twisted from shock to fury as the magnitude of the betrayal became clear.
"These communications go back years," whispered Elder Morvain, his earlier doubts forgotten as he held a scroll to the torchlight. "Names, assignments... This is a complete intelligence operation."
"And here," Lord Rivan pointed to a particular document, "Instructions specific to Lucien. They've been targeting him specifically since he was twelve."
Before they could even begin interrogating further, a loud explosion rocked the chamber. Dust and debris rained from the ceiling as the rumbling continued.
"We've been discovered," Lucien's mother hissed, her hand already glowing with protective mana. "Someone knows we're here."
As if summoned by her words, the traitor revealed himself.
It was a man in his early thirties, wearing the uniform of a junior instructor. Darren marrow stood at the entrance to the chamber, his carefully cultivated facade of affable mediocrity shattered. His eyes were wild, his body trembling with desperation as he realized his cover was blown.
"You!" Elder Morvain gasped. "You've been instructing our children for seven years!"
Darren didn't bother with denials. His eyes fixed on Lucien with pure hatred. "How? How did you know?" The question escaped him, a genuine bewilderment in his voice. "It was perfect... you were supposed to remain ignorant, arrogant, weak!"
Then, with a feral cry, he lunged at Lucien, a dagger coated with shimmering mana poison aimed straight for the boy's heart.
"DIEEEE!!"
Everything happened in an instant.
Before Lucien could even move, a titanic pressure descended upon the chamber. The very air seemed to compress, making breathing difficult for everyone present.
BOOM!
Lucien's grandfather, a mountain of a man with hair like burning silver, stepped forward with an expression of cold, absolute fury. With one casual punch, infused with devastating mana, he struck the traitor's chest.
Bones cracked audibly, the sound echoing in the confined space. Darren's ribcage collapsed inward as the force of the blow sent him flying backward.
The instructor crashed into the stone wall, his body crumpled and crippled beyond repair. Blood trickled from his mouth as he slid down to the floor, leaving a dark smear on the ancient stones.
"P-please," Darren gasped, blood bubbling between his lips. "M-mercy... I can tell you everything..."
Lucien's grandfather loomed over the broken spy, his massive frame silhouetted by the torchlight. "Oh, you will tell us everything," he promised, his voice deceptively gentle. "Every name, every plan, every whisper you've heard."
Groaning and bleeding, the traitor was dragged from the hidden chamber. Four family guards materialized, responding to the patriarch's silent summons, and hauled Darren toward the family's torture chamber—a place from which few ever returned with their sanity intact.
As the traitor was hauled away, his pained whimpers fading down the corridor, Lucien's grandfather turned to the gathered family members. His eyes settled on Lucien with a new respect and curiosity.
"How did you know, grandson?"
Lucien met his gaze steadily. "Patterns. Inconsistencies in his behavior. And..." he hesitated, choosing his words carefully, "...a sense that he was always watching me too closely."
The patriarch nodded slowly, seemingly satisfied with the explanation, though a flicker of suspicion remained in his eyes. That was a mystery for another day.
His mana surged then, an awesome display of power that sent ripples through the magical barriers of the compound. The ground beneath their feet trembled, and several of the younger family members stumbled. It was a terrifying reminder of why Arkanveil's patriarch was feared throughout the magical realms.
He roared, a declaration of war that seemed to shake the very foundations of their ancestral home:
"The Vaelthorn family will pay... in BLOOD!"
The flames of vengeance had been lit.
And the Arkanveil family would no longer sit quietly.
As they climbed back to the surface, Lucien felt the weight of his knowledge pressing down on him. In the original novel he had read in his previous life, this confrontation had never happened. The timeline was already changing dramatically, ripples spreading outward from his every action.
War between the great families had come decades earlier than in the story he knew. The plot was unraveling, changing with each choice he made. The comfort of knowing what would come next was fading, and uncertainty loomed ahead.
But Lucien wouldn't squander this second chance. In his previous life, he had been powerless—just a reader turning pages, watching the tragic fall of the Arkanveil family unfold. Now, reborn as Lucien himself, he had the power to rewrite the story.
And he stood at the center of the storm, ready to forge a new destiny.