Reborn As Noble

Javier’s eyes narrowed slightly, his head dipping just enough to hide the shift in his gaze. He caught it, the faintest glimmer in his father’s right eye, a glow so subtle that no one else in the chamber would have noticed.

Inside his mind, the thought struck him sharp as a blade.

Ah... so Father is using it. The All-Knowing Eyes. The Eyes of Truth.

He leaned back slowly, masking his realization with a lazy sigh, but his chest tightened.

That skill... only born once every thousand years.

His mind pulled back to the memory of the dwarven ruins, when he was sent to cleanse the filth of the celestial corruption. Deep beneath stone and dust, hidden behind a sealed door, he’d found the fragmented notes. Ancient scrawl on brittle parchment, recounting the lineage of rare gifts, the eyes that saw beyond lies, beyond masks, beyond even the veil of magic.

So Father is one of them. A bearer of the special sight.

No wonder he always seemed ten steps ahead. No wonder he could cut through every word, every scheme, with the calm of a man who already knew the ending.

Javier rested his chin lightly on his hand.

The nobles around him murmured excitedly over the vote, their voices rising and falling like meaningless noise.

Three gifts... three curses... three legends.

The Eyes of Truth.

The Power of Destruction.

The Hand of Creation.

His father bore the first. That much he was certain of now. The glow in that eye wasn’t just intimidation or mana pressure, it was the unerring vision of a man who could strip away every mask, every lie, every shadow.

Javier exhaled softly.

If Father holds the Eyes of Truth... then somewhere out there, the other two must also exist.

He remembered the crumbling parchments he had found in the dwarven ruins.

Where the Truth is born, Destruction and Creation must follow. The world cannot hold one without the others.

The Hand of Creation - the power to shape, to build, to forge life and wonders from nothing.

The Power of Destruction - the gift to destroy, to reduce to ash and void, sweeping away all that exists.

Opposites. Complements.

And always, the Eyes of Truth to bear witness, to judge, to guide, or to condemn.

Who holds them now? Are they already awakened? Or are they still sleeping in ignorance, not knowing the burden they carry?

He clicked his tongue silently.

Javier’s eyes stayed fixed on the polished table, but his mind spun like a wheel. His fingers toyed with the edge of his sleeve, yet every thought he had carried a sharp edge.

Perhaps I should ask Father about this. I still have that parchment inside my magic storage. Maybe when this council ends, I’ll show it to Father. If anyone can tell me what’s true, it’s him.

According to Ari and Aria, what people called ”Celestials” weren’t even true Celestials. It was a name born of ignorance, of trying to label what they couldn’t understand. The name stuck because mortals needed a word. but, that matter’s already been dealt with.

But this... this is different.

Javier’s brow creased slightly.

Father holds the Eyes of Truth. That much is beyond doubt now. And he’s already far too strong. Even if I joined hands with Marcellus and Cedric, even if the three of us put everything on the line, we wouldn’t leave as much as a scratch on him.

But what if... what if the Power of Destruction awakens in someone with that kind of strength? What if it falls into the hands of a man without restraint, someone who already thirsts for dominion?

And the Hand of Creation, what if it’s not limited to forging objects? What if it could shape life itself? Armies born from nothing, weapons that could twist the balance of the world in a single stroke.

He bit the inside of his cheek, forcing his face to remain calm and neutral.

Damn it. This isn’t a fairy tale. Gifts like these aren’t blessings. They’re world-breakers. If one of them tips the balance, everything we’ve built could collapse.

I need to prepare. I need to know. And before I do anything else... I need to hear it from Father himself.

Garius slipped a hand into his coat and drew forth a slender quill, its shaft gleaming faintly under the chamber’s light.

He lowered it to the voting plate before him, the rune-lined surface humming softly as ink flowed without an inkpot. Each stroke of the quill was steady, measured.

Without lifting his head, Garius’s eyes shifted sideways, catching his youngest son in his periphery. Javier sat with practiced composure, but his restlessness lingered in the way his fingers twitched faintly on his knee.

A faint smirk curved Garius’s lips.

Inside his mind, the thought was cool, deliberate.

So... he still doesn’t know.

Don’t worry my son. Sooner or later, the truth finds its way into every shadow. And when it does...

Garius’s quill slowed, the rune searing faintly as the vote sealed itself into the plate. He leaned back with unhurried grace, smirk still tugging at his mouth.

Better tell Francesca soon, he mused, letting the thought linger like wine on the tongue. Some truths can’t be left unspoken forever.

Javier sat still, his posture composed for the council’s eyes, but inside his mind, storms churned.

When the Celestial appeared, Father’s foresight had allowed him to prepare. Every weapon, every formation, every hidden measure had been set in advance. And because of that, i prepare in advance, plan everything , create the weapon suitable for it, and win.

But this... the Hand of Creation, the Power of Destruction... they were on another level.

I need to know. I need to prepare before they even show themselves. Just like Father always says, prepare for everything.

The Power of Destruction... if that falls into hands blinded by greed or hate, kingdoms won’t burn one at a time.

They’ll crumble all at once.

And The Hand of Creation... if it can shape more than steel or stone, then armies could be born overnight, whole fortresses raised in a breath. Life and death rewritten by a single will.

He clenched his jaw, remembering the last line of that old parchment he’d found beneath the dwarven ruins.

Where the Truth appears, so too shall Destruction and Creation.

And I thought being heir was already a pain in the ass. Now I might be standing on a board where the wrong move doesn’t just lose the game, it shatters the whole board.

His thoughts were cut short when the Keeper of Royal Law’s voice echoed across the chamber.

”The votes have been gathered... and the decision is made.”

Javier gritted his teeth, gaze locked forward, but his thoughts spat like sparks.

Screw that vote. I already know the result. Out of all these fools, only Father would cast his plate for Princess Kliatana. The rest? Of course, they’d bow their heads to Duke Kimar, that bloated fraud.

Damn it. They cling to this farce like it’s the only thing that matters, while what truly matters is looming closer with every breath.

( End Of Chapter )