Chapter 13 – "Doors, Dungeons, and Dimensional Meditation"
Morning light spilled across the ornate ceiling of Leon's bedroom, gilding the fine woodwork and silk curtains in soft gold.
He didn't blink.
Didn't even open his eyes.
Because he was already awake.
Seated cross-legged in the center of a lush carpet, Leon's posture screamed discipline, serenity, meditative focus.
Which, of course, was a complete lie.
Inside, he was somewhere else entirely.
The world beyond his skin was luxury and light.
But within?
A gray expanse of silence. The Dimensional Hourglass.
He no longer needed the artifact to access it. Not after the breakthrough he'd made during his second year in Duskmoor. A quiet experiment, a half-whim of intent… and suddenly, he was inside.
Just like that.
No need to summon. No need to hold the relic.
It had made him stupidly happy at the time—enough to roll across the floor laughing before collapsing into a full 48-hour nap inside the vault.
This was his sanctuary now. Silent. Still. Timeless.
Perfect for someone who hated being watched.
And today? He'd woken early just to center himself here.
Today was big.
Knock. Knock.
A sharp rap on the door pulled him back to reality.
Leon exhaled, blinked—and the world snapped back into place.
His bedroom, vast and decorated with far more embroidery than necessary, greeted him like a polite butler. He stood, padded to the door, and opened it a crack.
A familiar face greeted him.
One of Seraphine's trusted guards—a woman with clipped words and always-perfect posture—gave a brisk nod.
"Young Master Leon," she said. "The Commander has sent a carriage. She's waiting outside."
Leon's eyes sharpened.
There was only one thing this could mean.
Four days. Four long days since Seraphine had caved under his ultimate move. Four days of suppressed anticipation.
And now?
Finally.
Class Awakening.
He shut the door behind him with a quiet click, heart hammering beneath his calm expression.
Downstairs, the halls were already alive.
Maids in soft uniforms bustled about, dusting, folding, lighting lanterns. The moment Leon stepped into view, a wave of warm smiles lit up like torches in the gloom.
"Good morning, Young Master Leon!"
"Oh! He's already dressed! So punctual."
"Look at him… like a porcelain doll with knives…"
Leon gave a polite nod, murmuring "Morning," in return.
The reaction was instant.
A small cluster of maids all but melted against the wall, giggling into their sleeves.
"He looked right at me—did you see?!"
"His hair's glowing again in the sun…"
Leon didn't stop walking.
But he did roll his eyes—just a little.
'This is why I train in a time-locked void. No witnesses to my shame.'
Still, a small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
He was ready.
Today, the system that governed this strange world would finally give him a class.
'Master had told I would be able to see it after getting my class'
And Leon intended to make it regret the delay.
Leon stepped out into the morning light, boots crunching softly against the cobblestone driveway. The mansion gates loomed in the distance, flanked by silver-armored guards and an ornate carriage trimmed in Duskmoor blue.
And there she was.
Seraphine Vael.
Knight-Commander. Duskmoor's Iron Rose. Dressed in her sharp, ceremonial armor with her violet hair braided back like royalty preparing for war.
She spotted him instantly—and before he could even brace for it—
Whump.
She swooped forward and wrapped him in a tight, steel-bending hug, smashing his face directly into her armored chest.
"Good morning, my dear disciple!" she declared with battlefield enthusiasm, her voice as bright as sunrise and twice as loud.
Leon, face still lodged somewhere between silk and suffocation, let out a muffled grumble. "...Morning."
He didn't struggle. Didn't squirm. Just endured it with quiet dignity.
This was the price of mentorship, apparently.
Eventually, she pulled back—still smiling.
He gave her a flat look. "We really need to discuss boundaries."
Seraphine just patted his head fondly. "We really don't."
With that, she opened the carriage door and gestured grandly. Leon stepped in first, expecting her to follow and take the seat across from him.
Instead—
She sat directly beside him.
Tightly.
Leon glanced at the other, perfectly empty side of the carriage. Then at her.
She smiled sweetly and offered no explanation.
He sighed, leaned slightly away, and resigned himself to fate once more.
The carriage began to roll.
Duskmoor's streets passed in a blur outside the window as cobblestone became dirt road and city walls faded behind them. Trees whispered overhead, and the air was crisp with early light.
Leon kept his eyes on the horizon.
Until Seraphine finally spoke.
"You're not the only one entering the dungeon today," she said.
Leon blinked, turning slightly.
"It's a multi-candidate trial," she explained. "Other promising individuals from cities and territories across the region will also be entering. Each one attempting to awaken their class."
Leon absorbed that with a quiet nod. "Makes sense. Can't waste a good dungeon."
She didn't comment on the sarcasm.
Instead, her tone softened—just a little.
"You'll be assessed individually. It's not a contest, but… the awakening responds to will. Instinct. Desire. Strength of self."
Leon narrowed his eyes. "And how dangerous is it?"
Seraphine gave a thin smile. "Dangerous enough. Not fatal—unless you make a mistake. But I wouldn't have allowed this if I thought you couldn't handle it."
That part?
That part she meant with absolute sincerity.
Leon didn't notice the subtle tension in her shoulders.
Didn't hear the unspoken name she'd refused to mention.
Because what she hadn't told him… was that she'd spent the last four days not arranging the dungeon—
—but clearing it.
Scrubbing it of political presence.
She'd pulled strings, called favors, silenced whispers.
All to ensure one thing:
Not a single noble from a high-ranking house would be present today.
The class awakening ceremony is usually attended by nobles who may include high-ranking members looking to recruit promising individuals.
She could handle lower-ranking noble but not those high ranking one she didn't have enough influence for that.
Because Leon might not understand yet, but Seraphine did.
The moment his class awakened, he would shine, she was sure of it.
And if anyone else saw that shine—especially the wrong kind of noble—they'd try to own it.
Try to own him.
And Seraphine Vael?
She wasn't about to let her disciple get snatched by some leech in a gilded robe.
He was hers.
Hers to train.
Hers to protect.
Hers to hug and squash and scold and one day stand beside.
And if that meant burning a few bridges to make sure the right eyes never even saw him…
So be it.
Leon remained silent beside her, silver eyes fixed on the winding road ahead, unaware of the war being quietly fought in his name.
But he would learn.
Soon.
Leon's silver eyes gleamed as the trees parted and the road stretched ahead.
So he wouldn't be alone in the dungeon.
Other talents. Other fighters. Maybe even prodigies from other cities.
The idea thrilled him.
He'd never faced anyone in real combat except Seraphine—and let's be honest, that was like trying to punch a dragon with a broomstick.
Some variety will be nice, he thought, lips curling faintly. Maybe I'll even get to win a fight without being smothered afterward.
He leaned back slightly as the carriage jostled over a ridge, hands clasped behind his head. "So. What's the actual goal?"
Seraphine looked over at him. "Each of you will be dropped into different starting points. The dungeon is tiered—meant for awakening, not killing. But it's still real. Real monsters. Real wounds."
He nodded.
"You'll need to clear it. Specifically—defeat the boss monster at the heart of the trial floor. Once that's done, your soul will be evaluated. Based on that… the system will assign your class."
Leon raised an eyebrow. "Assign? I don't get to choose?"
"In most cases, no. But—" she tilted her head slightly, "—in rare situations, candidates are given a choice. Especially if their traits pull toward multiple advanced paths."
He absorbed that with a slow nod, gears already turning behind his eyes.
"So what you're saying is… don't mess it up."
"Exactly." She leaned in, her tone softer but firmer. "The class you awaken with becomes the foundation of your strength. Some are versatile. Some are specialized. A bad fit can hold you back for life."
Leon gave her a dry look. "No pressure."
"I trust you," she said simply.
His expression twitched, surprised for a moment.
Then he looked away.
Seraphine continued, her voice just loud enough to rise over the rumble of the wheels. "But if, by some chance, you are offered a choice… be careful. Don't pick something just because it sounds flashy. Think about how you fight. What you want. Who you are."
Leon's eyes returned to her—steadier now.
"I've already decided," he said.
Seraphine blinked. "Oh?"
"I don't know what they'll offer. But I know what I want. I don't want to be someone else's sword. I want to be the kind of blade that chooses its own battles."
She didn't answer.
But she smiled.
Small. Proud. A little sad.
The rest of the ride passed in silence, broken only by the clatter of wheels and the distant cry of birds overhead.
Leon's hand rested near his waist, fingers twitching occasionally—imagining combat, precision, movement.
Soon, he'd know.
What kind of power would awaken within him.
And more importantly…
What kind of warrior he'd choose to become.
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