Ethan exhaled softly as he slid a thick book onto the shelf. His fate was clear now, unforgiving and absolute: kill or be killed. In this world, in this family, there was no middle ground.
Shaking his head with quiet resignation, he resumed his slow walk through the aisles, eyes drifting over the spines of countless books. Despite his keen intellect, he had never held much affection for books. He had no intention of returning to the library after today.
'After the Awakening, people became capable of drawing Astra from the air into their Astra veins. It's essentially cultivation,' Ethan mused, snapping another book shut with a hint of frustration.
'Yet, there are no cultivation manuals to be found. Everyone draws Astra at their own pace, some faster, some more efficiently, but there's no standardized path. No structured techniques. No classifications like mage or healer either; abilities manifest randomly during the Awakening,' he reflected, his footsteps echoing softly as he continued down the aisle.
'Everyone in this world is naturally fit, Astra passively enhances the body from birth, strength, speed, stamina, durability, all elevated by default. The Astra veins act as conduits, constantly reinforcing the body. It's as if everyone here is born a Superman.' Ethan mused as he walked.
Hours slipped by unnoticed, until Ethan finally came to a stop. His gaze settled on Lyra, standing a short distance away, her presence quiet but unmistakable.
"It seems you didn't even bother trying to read anything, you just followed me," Ethan said, shaking his head with a sigh.
"I've been alive a long time, Young Master," Lyra replied evenly, stepping forward until she stood precisely two paces behind him. "Long enough to have read more books than I care to count."
'Right,' Ethan mused as he resumed walking. 'The stronger someone is, the longer they tend to live. Shame there's no path to immortality through cultivation, I might've considered it. Then again, I've heard that for immortals, boredom becomes their greatest enemy. Maybe eternal life isn't such a great bargain after all.'
His thoughts drifted from one subject to another, his mind a quiet storm of reflection.
Ethan arrived at the same table where he had last seen the Great Elder seated.
"You're finished reading?" the Great Elder asked, glancing up from his book. "I must say, this is your first visit to the library, and you spent seven hours here. That might just be a new record."
'Asher really is the 'all brawn, no brain type,' Ethan mused privately. 'Not that it's his fault, just look at the family he comes from.'
Offering a polite smile, Ethan replied, "I'll be Awakening soon. I figured it would be wise to learn a bit of world history before then."
The Great Elder gave a slow nod, then returned his attention to the book in his hands, a subtle signal that their conversation had concluded.
Taking the hint, Ethan turned and walked out of the library, the weight of knowledge and answered questions trailing behind him.
From what Ethan had gathered in his hours at the library, the Wargrave family operated under a rigid hierarchy of power. At the top stood the Primarch, the head of the family, his father.
Below him were the Elders, comprised of the Primarch's siblings, making them Ethan's uncles and aunts. Above them were the Great Elders, the biological uncles and aunts of both the Primarch and the Elders, Ethan's grand uncles and grand aunts.
In the Wargrave family, only the Primarch was permitted to bear an heir. Any Elder or Great Elder found with a child would face immediate execution, alongside the child. Ethan could only regard this as cruel, yet he understood the reasoning behind it.
The rule existed to prevent internal strife, ensuring that no Elder or Great Elder would attempt to position their own offspring as a future Primarch. Power, in the Wargrave household, was not inherited through ambition but dictated by blood and order.
Even the women of the family were forbidden from marrying, whether within or outside the bloodline. If one was not the Primarch, one was not expected to have children, regardless of the circumstances.
The Wargrave bloodline was meant to remain pure, unchallenged, and tightly controlled.
The bloodline of the Wargrave stays and dies with the Wargrave.
'But what if the current Primarch were impotent?' Ethan couldn't help but entertain the thought. Would they simply replace him? Would the entire system collapse under its own rigidity?
He had come across records of some defiance, three members of the Wargrave family who had dared to secretly bear children. Their rebellion had been short-lived. Each one was discovered and executed, along with the child they tried to protect.
No mercy. No second chances.
'What kind of family did I reincarnate into?' Ethan wondered, his steps aimless as he wandered the halls.
Guided by Asher's memories, Ethan made his way to the training grounds. As he arrived, the sharp ring of clashing metal greeted him, an unrelenting symphony of precision and power.
Guards moved across the field in a blur, their speed far beyond what his eyes could follow. Seeing them was a generous term, he could only register afterimages, ghostlike flickers of motion that vanished as quickly as they appeared.
The rhythm of their strikes, the cadence of steel meeting steel, was the only indication of their movements.
Sparks flared beneath the sunlight, brief flashes of brilliance as their blades collided again and again. Despite his arrival, none of them paused. They remained entirely absorbed in their practice, dancing across the field like phantoms locked in a silent war.
Ethan's eyes gleamed with quiet awe, shining like distant stars as he watched the display unfold before him. He had seen scenes like this countless times in movies and anime, but witnessing it live, in raw, unfiltered reality, was an entirely different experience.
On the opposite side of the training ground, another guard balanced effortlessly on a single fingertip, the scorching sun beating down endlessly as beads of sweat traced slow paths down his chiseled form.
For a full thirty minutes, Ethan remained rooted in place, utterly captivated. He didn't so much as blink, completely absorbed by the continuous dance of strength, skill, and discipline before him.
After a while, the sparring guards came to a halt. Their eyes shifted toward Ethan, who stood frozen, a faint trail of drool at the corner of his lips. Startled, Ethan quickly wiped it away as their steady gazes pulled him back to reality.
They approached in unison, bowing respectfully as they spoke in chorus, "Good afternoon, Tenth Sun."
Ethan studied them silently for a moment before nodding in acknowledgment. "Good work," he replied curtly, then turned and walked away.
While some of the maids had cast disdainful glances at Asher whenever he wasn't looking, the guards showed no such disrespect.
Their loyalty ran deeper, their very lives were intertwined with the family's honor and legacy.
Ethan circled the building several times, deliberately avoiding the other Suns and Moons of the Wargrave family. He had no desire to encounter any of them before his Awakening.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the grounds, Ethan finally returned to his room, done for the day.
Lyra wasted no time. She arrived shortly after, carrying dinner. She hadn't brought lunch, knowing Ethan had spent the entire day either buried in books or wandering the estate.
It was already nine o'clock in the evening. Ethan sat on the edge of his bed, eyes fixed on the window where the moon hung low, its pale light casting a gentle glow across the room.
'Though I've come to accept this new life, if I fall asleep tonight and never wake in my old world, then I will fully embrace Asher. From this moment on, I will become him.' he thought quietly.
With that resolve, Ethan finally lay back and pulled the feather-soft, white duvet over himself, surrendering to the soothing embrace of sleep.