The Superior Rebirth: A Hero's Awakening

The First True Exchange - Part I

The scene shifted toward the grand training grounds within the domain of Grand Duke Caelen.

It was a vast open field carved into disciplined order—iron dummies lined in rows, weapon racks gleaming beneath the afternoon sun, target boards riddled with arrows, and heavy sparring platforms reinforced for mounted combat. Steel clashed somewhere in the distance. Boots struck packed earth. Commands rang out sharp and rhythmic.

This was where the knights under Caelen's authority honed themselves.

Not for glory.

But to be worthy of the name they served.

Caelen walked across the grounds with steady steps, Princess Aurora and Prince Tristan accompanying him. Knights paused as he passed, saluting with fists to chest. He acknowledged them with the slightest nod.

"Tell me," Aurora began, folding her hands behind her back as she walked beside him, "why do you have a smithing chamber within your estate? Are you planning to craft Grand Fables and Ethereal Instruments?" She tilted her head slightly. "After all... you are the reincarnation of the Father of Blades."

Caelen's answer came without hesitation.

"No. I intend to forge powerless but extremely potent weapons and sell them. Guilds. Kingdoms. Hunters. Whoever pays."

Aurora blinked, then laughed lightly. "You truly adore money, don't you? You are already wealthy as a Grand Duke of my kingdom."

"Not quite," Caelen replied calmly. "I am fond of what money prevents. Not the money itself."

"Oh?"

"Money grants leverage. Leverage grants control. Control grants safety." His voice remained flat. "Safety for my mother. Safety for myself. I was born a commoner. I do not forget that."

Aurora studied him for a second before smirking. "You are... remarkably particular."

"You could say that."

They reached the central field.

What greeted them was not routine drills.

It was a duel.

Two figures stood opposite one another amidst a wide clearing of knights and squires—nearly a hundred watching in tense silence.

High Marshal Alistair Pendrake. Head Commander of the Royal Knighthood.

And Sir Alaric Gravesend. Head Commander of Caelen's forces.

Steel met steel in a final exchange—clean, decisive, explosive.

A shock of force rippled outward as their blades collided for the last time before both men disengaged in perfect synchronization.

Silence.

Then a voice declared the result.

A draw.

The surrounding knights erupted into murmurs of admiration. Even Tristan leaned forward in awe.

Aurora glanced sideways at Caelen. "You look rather serious," she teased. "Don't tell me you intend to duel them next?"

He did not answer.

Aurora's smile faltered slightly.

Because he was already walking forward.

Sir Alaric immediately straightened and bowed deeply. "My Lord."

High Marshal Alistair, in contrast, wiped sweat from his brow and grinned. "Ah. The little Duke himself. Come to inspect us?"

Sir Alaric's jaw tightened visibly at the casual tone.