The trio stepped out of the Dungeon Hall, the heavy doors closing behind them with a dull echo. Evening light spilled across the plaza, catching on the dust still clinging to their boots. The air outside felt lighter after hours spent breathing the graveyard's chill.

  Veldora stretched with a groan, rolling his shoulders. "I swear, even victory smells like undead after that place."

  Sora snorted. "Better than failure. That one's worse."

  Ciel walked a few steps ahead, calm as ever, though faint exhaustion tugged at his eyes. "The cooldown's about sixteen hours," he said, checking his system panel. "We can't enter the same dungeon until tomorrow."

  Sora tilted her head. "Sixteen, huh? That's just enough time for a nap and a meal."

  "Good," Ciel replied. "Starting tomorrow, we'll ramp up our runs. The goal is to maximize number of dungeons per day before the next advancement."

  Veldora gave a low whistle. "So, basically… grind season."

  Ciel nodded. "Exactly. Which means you both need to be in top condition. Go rest."

  Sora mock saluted. "Aye aye, captain efficiency."

  Veldora laughed, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Try not to dream of skeletons."

  They split paths at the crossroads, the last rays of sunlight painting the cobblestones gold.

  At home, the smell of tea and steel greeted Ciel as he entered. Arthur was waiting in the yard, wooden practice swords laid out neatly beside him. His calm expression didn't hide the faint spark of anticipation in his eyes.

  "It's that time again," Arthur said, tossing one of the swords to his son. "Monthly spar."

  Eren appeared from the doorway, a grin already forming. "Finally! It's your turn to get beaten, big brother."

  Ciel caught the sword, testing its balance with a small flick. "We'll see." His gaze turned toward the house. "Mother, you're coming too?"

  Eve stepped out behind Eren, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Of course. Someone needs to make sure you don't end up with bruises all over."

  Ciel's lips quirked faintly. "Fair enough."

  He raised his hand, mana flaring softly in the evening air. "Let's take it to the Realm."

  The world around them rippled—colors bending, light folding inward—and in a breath, the family vanished from the yard, drawn into the boundless plains of Ciel's inner world.

  Light settled around them as the shift ended, the familiar world reforming—grass whispering underfoot, a wide sky stretching endlessly above. The transition always came with a hush, like stepping into a living dream.

  Eren spun once, eyes wide. "Whoa… how much has your realm changed since last time?"

  He ran forward, nearly tripping over a rise of new grass. "The air—it feels different. Thicker."

  Ciel glanced around too, quietly taking in the changes. The mana density was higher, pulsing faintly through the soil like a heartbeat.

  Eve followed Eren's gaze toward the distance, where the World Tree now reached over two meters in height, its leaves shimmering in waves of soft light. "It's grown so much," she murmured.

  "Almost three meters," Eren said, his voice a mix of awe and jealousy. "At this rate, it's going to touch the clouds."

  Veldora had once joked that the tree was more alive than most people Ciel knew. Looking at it now, Ciel half agreed.

  Eren turned, pointing toward the ridge where faint ripples of energy shimmered around clustered circles of stone. "And what's that? You've got, what, eight—no, nine wells now?"

  Ciel nodded. "Ten functional."

  Arthur whistled. "You've been busy."

  Ciel's gaze softened as he looked across the fields, where the wells pulsed faintly with mana light—each one a quiet promise of growth. "They help the Realm expand faster. Mana stability, time flow… everything scales with the core's development."

  Eve folded her arms lightly. "Which means the spar will be tougher this time."

  Arthur grinned, gripping his practice sword tighter. "Perfect. Let's see how far my son has come."

  Ciel smiled faintly. "Then let's begin."

  The air in the realm held a quiet pressure, the kind that came before a storm.

  Arthur stood with a wooden sword balanced lightly in one hand, his posture effortless. "Show me how far you've come," he said.

  Ciel's fingers tightened on his own blade. "Understood."

  Unlike their last spar, Ciel didn't rush in with straightforward attacks. He'd learned. The dungeon runs had taught him patience, timing, the value of reading an opponent's intentions before committing.

  He moved first—but not with the direct assault Arthur would expect. His mana gathered subtly at his feet as he activated Domain. A translucent field expanded from him in a perfect sphere, twenty meters in every direction. The grass within its bounds seemed to respond to his will, and Arthur would feel it—that subtle pressure, the faint drain on his capabilities.

  Arthur's eyebrow rose slightly. "Starting with field control? Interesting choice."

  The older man didn't wait for a response. He closed the distance with deceptive speed, his wooden blade cutting toward Ciel's shoulder in a testing strike.

  Ciel's sword intercepted it, but this time the deflection was cleaner—using the blade's angle to redirect force rather than simply blocking. His footwork carried him to the side in the same motion, creating distance before Arthur's follow-up could land.

  "Better," Arthur acknowledged. "You're not just reacting anymore. You're thinking three moves ahead."

  Ciel didn't respond with words. Instead, his form blurred—Realm Shift. He vanished from Arthur's front and reappeared at his father's left flank, sword already in motion toward an opening in his guard.

  Arthur twisted, catching the strike on his blade's edge, but Ciel didn't overcommit this time. The moment he felt resistance, he Shifted again—appearing behind Arthur with a horizontal slash aimed at his back.

  "Much faster," Arthur said, somehow managing to pivot and block despite the impossible angle. "And the timing between shifts is smoother. You've been practicing."

  "Every day," Ciel replied, already moving again.

  This time he didn't rely solely on Shift. His enhanced agility—amplified fivefold by King of Realm—let him move with speed that would have been impossible outside. He wove between Arthur's strikes like water flowing around stone, his blade finding gaps that hadn't existed in their previous spars.

  Steel rang against steel in rapid succession—not the one-sided demonstration from before, but a genuine exchange. Ciel's strikes came from unexpected angles, his footwork carrying him through patterns that shouldn't have been possible for someone at his level.

  Arthur's eyes narrowed with genuine focus now. "You've fought skilled opponents recently. I can see it in how you move—less textbook, more practical."

  "The Headless Knight was an excellent teacher," Ciel said, his blade sweeping up in a feint before pivoting into a real strike from below.

  Arthur caught it, but had to actually shift his stance to do so. "The what?"

  "Level thirty dungeon boss. Second Awakening." Ciel Shifted mid-sentence, reappearing above Arthur with a downward strike enhanced by momentum and gravity.

  For the first time, Arthur looked genuinely surprised. His blade snapped up just in time, but the force of the block drove him back half a step.

  "You fought a Second Awakening boss?" Arthur's tone carried both pride and concern. "At your level?"

  "Inside the realm." Ciel landed in a crouch, already flowing into his next attack. "Where the advantages are mine."

  Their exchange intensified. Ciel layered his abilities now—Domain providing constant pressure, Shift creating unpredictable angles, and his mana-forged blade adapting its form mid-combat to exploit openings. He'd learned from facing the Skeleton Squire and the Headless Knight that raw power meant nothing without the tactical awareness to apply it.

  Arthur responded by increasing his own speed, his movements becoming sharper, more aggressive. But unlike their last spar, he couldn't simply overwhelm his son with superior technique. Ciel had grown—not just in stats, but in genuine combat experience.

  "Your mana control has improved dramatically," Arthur observed, deflecting a strike that came wreathed in concentrated energy. "That blade—it's sharper than before. Denser."

  "Mana Craft reached Novice tier," Ciel explained, his blade shifting from sword to spear mid-thrust, forcing Arthur to adjust his defense. "The efficiency gain is significant."

  "I can tell." Arthur's wooden sword blurred, and suddenly Ciel found himself on the defensive as his father launched a combination attack that would have overwhelmed him completely in their previous spar.

  But now, enhanced reflexes let him track each strike. Shift carried him out of danger when the pressure became too great. His Domain bought him fractions of seconds—tiny advantages that added up to survival.

  They broke apart, both breathing harder now. Arthur's expression had shifted from casual assessment to genuine engagement. "You've earned this," he said, and began to glow with a faint aura.

  Ciel recognized the signature immediately—his father was channeling more power, treating this as a real fight rather than a teaching exercise.

  "Don't hold back," Ciel said, his own aura flaring brighter as he poured more mana into his enhancements. "I want to see how far I can push."

  What followed was the kind of exchange that made the grass flatten in concentric circles around them. Arthur's blade work was a masterclass in refined technique—every strike economical, every defense minimal but perfect. Ciel countered with adaptability—using Shift to break Arthur's rhythm, his Domain to create small but cumulative advantages, his enhanced stats to match speed he shouldn't have been able to perceive.

  "There!" Arthur's sword caught Ciel's blade mid-swing, twisting it aside with perfect timing. His follow-up strike came too fast to dodge conventionally.

  Ciel Shifted—but Arthur had anticipated it. The older man's blade was already moving to intercept his reappearance point, having read the pattern in his son's spatial movement.

  The wooden sword's tip stopped a hair's breadth from Ciel's throat.

  This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

  "Still predictable in your shift patterns," Arthur said, but his tone carried approval rather than criticism. "You're using it as both offense and escape, which is smart. But against someone who's studied your rhythm, it becomes a tell."

  He lowered his blade, stepping back. "That said—you lasted three times longer than our last spar. Your growth isn't just in stats anymore. You're thinking like a real fighter now."

  Ciel straightened, catching his breath. He wasn't particularly winded—his enhanced endurance saw to that—but the mental intensity of matching his father's technique had been demanding. "Still couldn't score a clean hit."

  "No," Arthur agreed with a slight smile. "But you made me use sword aura to keep pace. That's significant progress."

  From the sidelines, Eren was bouncing excitedly. "That was amazing! You actually pushed Dad! He never has to try that hard against anyone!"

  Eve approached, already preparing a healing spell though neither combatant was seriously injured. "Both of you are showing off," she said with fond exasperation. "One day you're going to actually hurt each other with these 'practice' spars."

  "Unlikely," Arthur said, accepting the refreshing magic with a nod of thanks. "Ciel's control is too good now. He could have pushed harder—I felt him holding back during several exchanges."

  Ciel didn't deny it. Inside the realm, with King of Realm active, he could have fought with multiplicative stats. The spar would have looked very different. But that wasn't the point of these sessions.

  "I wanted to test my base capabilities," he explained. "Understanding my limits without talent activation is important. Can't rely on overwhelming advantages in every situation."

  Arthur's expression turned thoughtful. "Wise. Your unique advantages are powerful, but they're also potentially limiting if you become dependent on them. Training your fundamentals ensures you can adapt when circumstances change."

  He clapped Ciel on the shoulder. "Next month, I expect you to actually land a hit. Now that I know what you're truly capable of, I won't be caught off-guard by your creativity."

  "I'll work on my shift patterns," Ciel promised. "Make them less predictable."

  "Do that." Arthur's smile widened. "Because I have the feeling you're going to surpass me sooner than either of us expects. And when that day comes, I want to have earned the victory of being your teacher."

  The family gathered near the World Tree afterward, its gentle luminescence casting soft shadows across the grass. Eve distributed refreshments she'd brought along—tea that somehow stayed hot despite the realm's timeless quality, and small pastries that Eren attacked with enthusiasm.

  "The realm feels more stable than last time," Eve observed, her healer's senses attuned to subtle environmental changes. "The mana flow is smoother, more integrated."

  "The wells help with that," Ciel explained, gesturing toward the pulsing structures in the distance. "They create a circulatory system—mana flowing from ambient sources, through the wells, into the tree, and back out into the environment. Everything feeds everything else."

  Eren stared at the World Tree with undisguised envy. "When I awaken, I want something this cool. Maybe a class that lets me paint reality or something."

  "That would suit you," Ciel said with genuine warmth. "Though I suspect your class will reflect your artistic nature rather than just copying mine."

  "Good," Eren declared. "I don't want to be a copy anyway. I want to be my own kind of awesome."

  After the teasing settled, Arthur's expression shifted—still warm, but carrying the weight of something more serious. He gestured for Ciel to sit beside him on the grass, and the others naturally gave them space, sensing the change in tone.

  "Now that you're closing in on level twenty," Arthur began, his voice taking on the measured quality it held when imparting important lessons, "there's something you need to understand about what comes next."

  Ciel straightened slightly, attention fully focused. "The Second Awakening."

  "Exactly." Arthur nodded. "Most fathers have this conversation with their sons when they're already at level nineteen, scrambling to prepare. But you're different—you'll likely hit twenty within the next few weeks at your current pace. So we're having it now."

  He picked up a small stone, turning it over in his fingers as he gathered his thoughts. "When you reach level twenty you will not be able to level up till you clear the quest all experience will be stored at one percent, at that time you'll receive an Awakening Prompt directly in your Status Window. It's not subtle—impossible to miss. The System will present you with a choice."

  "A choice of difficulty," Ciel said, pieces clicking together from conversations he'd overheard at the Guild.

  "Seven levels of difficulty," Arthur confirmed, holding up fingers as he counted. "One star through seven stars. And here's what most people don't understand until it's too late—anyone can choose any difficulty. There are no restrictions based on class or level. A Common class awakener can attempt a seven-star quest just as easily as a Legendary one can attempt a one-star."

  "But the actual challenge scales with class rarity," Ciel reasoned. "Otherwise, it wouldn't make sense."

  Arthur's eyes glinted with approval. "Smart. Yes—the System applies what they call a rarity modifier. If you and someone with a Common class both selected a five-star quest, yours would be significantly harder. Same star rating, different actual difficulty. It's the System's way of keeping choice free while maintaining appropriate challenge."

  He tossed the stone aside. "The rewards are where it gets interesting. Everyone who completes their awakening receives three things: a permanent stat increase, at least one new skill, and improved class modifiers for HP and MP. But the amount varies dramatically."

  "Based on the star rating chosen," Ciel concluded.

  "And performance during the quest itself," Arthur added. "It's not a fixed reward table. Two people who both complete a four-star quest can walk away with notably different gains. The System uses ranges, probability distributions. There's an element of... let's call it potential recognition."

  Arthur's gaze grew distant for a moment, clearly remembering his own experience. "When I took my Second Awakening quest, I chose a four-star quest. It was brutal. When I completed it, I gained thirty points to every stat and earned an additional combat skill that became core to my fighting style."

  Thirty points times six stats that is one hundred and eighty stat points. Ciel processed that quickly. For most awakeners, that represented months or even years of level grinding. Gained all at once, it represented a massive power spike.

  "But here's what you need to understand," Arthur continued, his tone growing more serious. "Society has classifications for Second Awakening outcomes. These aren't official System designations—they're how the world sorts people based on which tier they completed."

  He held up one finger. "One and two-star awakenings are called Civilian Tier. These are people who awakens further for safety, for basic capability, but aren't pursuing combat as a primary path. Merchants, crafters, support roles. Nothing wrong with it—most of society operates at this level."

  A second finger joined the first. "Three and four stars are Soldier Tier. This is the backbone of any city's defense, the core of most guilds, the standard for professional awakeners. They can handle threats, clear dungeons, perform missions. I'm in this category."

  Third finger. "Five and six stars are General Tier. These are the people who lead, who form the top fighting force of major organizations. City Champions often come from this tier. The Guild masters of high-ranked guilds. The people who can turn the tide of large-scale conflicts."

  Arthur paused, his fourth finger rising slowly. "And then there's the seventh star."

  The weight in those words made even Eren stop fidgeting. Eve's expression had grown serious.

  "Seven-star awakeners," Arthur said quietly, "are called Kings. Not because they necessarily rule—though some do—but because they exist on a fundamentally different power scale. They're the ones who face clamity-rank threats alone. Who can hold territory against armies. Who become legends in their own lifetimes."

  Ciel absorbed this, his mind already racing through implications. "How rare are they?"

  "In any given generation, across all of world, you might see a dozen people complete a seven-star Second Awakening. Most of them won't maintain that for subsequent awakenings—the difficulty scaling makes it increasingly brutal. But those who do..." Arthur shook his head slowly. "They reshape the world."

  "Subsequent awakenings," Ciel repeated, catching the key phrase. "The tier you choose can change?"

  "Every awakening is a new choice," Arthur explained. "Someone who completed seven stars at Second Awakening might choose five stars for their Third, finding the increased difficulty not worth the incremental gains. Or someone who did three stars at Second might push for five stars at Third, having grown stronger and more confident. It's not locked. Though do remember that stats gained from previous awakenings do not change these are the foundation, a five star third awakener who completed second awakening at seven stars will be stronger than those who did five star at both."

  He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "But there's a reason most people trend downward in their choices rather than upward. The difficulty scaling is exponential. A seven-star Third Awakening is incomparably harder than a seven-star Second. Maintaining that tier requires not just power, but perfect execution, flawless preparation, and often... a touch of something exceptional."

  "How far has anyone maintained it?" Ciel asked, though he suspected he already knew the answer.

  "Historically?" Arthur's expression turned respectful. "Aster Vaelaris, maintained seven stars through his Sixth Awakening. Six consecutive seven-star completions. That's why he's called the emperor of broken world—why entire factions defer to him. He didn't just reach the pinnacle once. He stayed there hence gaining the title of emperor."

  The name carried weight even in casual conversation. Aster was a living legend, one of the few awakeners who had transcended normal power scaling entirely.

  Arthur turned to face Ciel directly, his expression serious but not grave. "I'm telling you all this now because you need to understand what you're approaching. Your growth rate, your unique advantages, your class rarity—all of it points toward one conclusion."

  He placed a hand on Ciel's shoulder. "You have the potential to complete a seven-star Second Awakening."

  The words hung in the air. Eve's breath caught slightly. Eren's eyes went wide.

  Ciel didn't flinch from his father's gaze. "You think I should attempt it."

  "I think you're capable of it," Arthur corrected carefully. "Whether you should is a different question entirely. A seven-star quest isn't just difficult—it's designed to push you to absolute breaking. The System doesn't hand out King-tier classifications for showing up. You earn it by surviving what would kill most people."

  "And if I fail?"

  Arthur's expression grew somber. "Failure means no awakening from that attempt. No stat gains, no new skills, nothing. And you're locked out from trying again for one month—real-time. You could retry after that cooldown as many times as needed, but each failure is a month lost."

  "That's not as bad as I expected," Ciel admitted. "I thought failure might be permanent."

  "The System isn't cruel," Arthur said. "Just demanding. It wants people to succeed—but it wants them to earn it. The month cooldown is enough to be meaningful without being devastating. It gives you time to train, improve, try again stronger."

  He squeezed Ciel's shoulder once before releasing it. "But here's what I want you to understand: completing a seven-star awakening would put you in rare company. It would mark you as someone to watch, someone with potential that reaches beyond normal limits. The Academy entrance exams you're worried about? A seven-star Second Awakening would make them trivial."

  "It would also paint a target on his back," Eve interjected, her maternal concern finally breaking her silence. "People notice King-tier awakeners. Organizations recruit them. Enemies fear them enough to strike preemptively."

  "True," Arthur acknowledged. "Power always comes with attention, wanted or not. But hiding power doesn't make you safer—it just makes you unprepared when something forces you to reveal it anyway."

  Ciel sat quietly, processing everything. The information wasn't entirely new—he'd heard fragments of it in Guild conversations, read references in books. But having it laid out systematically, by someone who understood both the system and cared about his wellbeing, clarified things significantly.

  "I have time to decide," he said finally. "I'm still level eleven. nine more levels to go, and I can use that time to prepare properly."

  "Smart," Arthur approved. "Don't rush into it just because you can. A seven-star quest will test everything—combat ability, tactical thinking, resource management, mental endurance. Use the next few weeks to shore up any weaknesses."

  "And to consider whether the extra rewards are worth the risk," Eve added pointedly. "A five-star awakening would still put you well above most of your peers. You don't need to aim for the absolute pinnacle to succeed."

  "But he could," Eren said, his voice carrying absolute confidence. "Big brother could totally do a seven-star quest. He beat a Second Awakening boss already!"

  "Inside his realm, with every advantage," Arthur reminded gently. "A seven-star awakening quest won't play to your strengths so conveniently. It's designed to challenge you specifically, targeting your weaknesses while limiting your advantages."

  Ciel nodded slowly. "I understand. I'll train with that in mind—assuming I can't rely on realm advantages, can't outlast through time dilation, can't simply overpower through stats. If I prepare for the worst case, the actual quest becomes manageable."

  "That's the right mindset," Arthur said approvingly. "And remember—whatever you choose, whatever tier you complete—it doesn't define your entire path. Your first awakening gave you an Ego-class designation. That alone puts you in exceptional company. The second awakening is just another step, not your final destination. But, always remember to us you are just our son it doesn’t matter wether you do a seven star quest or one star you will always be my dear son."

  "Though it would be pretty cool if you became a King at level twenty," Eren added helpfully. "I could tell everyone my big brother is officially awesome."

  "You already tell everyone that," Ciel pointed out.

  "Yeah, but this way I'd have proof!"

  The moment of levity broke some of the tension. Eve stood, smoothing her dress with a small smile. "Well then. Since we've thoroughly discussed how my son might attempt something that makes his mother worry constantly, perhaps we should head back before that dinner gets any colder?"

  Arthur chuckled, rising as well. "Probably wise. Though knowing Ciel, he's already planning his training regimen for the coming time."

  Ciel admitted, standing. "For now we have worked out the new strategy and are going to try multiple dungeon runs in a day."

  "Of course you can," Arthur said with fond exasperation. "Just... pace yourself. The goal is to be ready when the time comes, not to burn out before you arrive."

  Ciel smiled faintly. "I'll keep that in mind."

  As he prepared to transition them back to the real world, his father's words echoed in his thoughts. Seven stars. King tier. A designation reserved for the exceptional, the ones who reshaped the world.

  He'd come far in the months since his awakening. From barely understanding his Realm Seed to commanding a space that could host boss-tier combat. From stumbling through basic dungeons to clearing level thirty content with strategy and skill.

  But a seven-star awakening quest would be different. It wouldn't be about advantages or preparation or clever resource management. It would be about raw capability, pushed to absolute limits.

  The question wasn't whether he could attempt it. The question was whether he should—and whether the price of failure was one he was willing to risk.

  And when the System finally presented him with that choice, he would need to be certain.

  The realm rippled around them, colors folding inward, and in a breath they stood again in the Nova household yard. The sun had nearly set, painting the sky in deep oranges and purples. Somewhere nearby, the smell of reheated dinner wafted through the evening air.

  Tomorrow, the grinding would begin. The push toward level twenty, toward the threshold that would define the next stage of his journey.

  But tonight, surrounded by family who believed in him, Ciel allowed himself a moment of simple peace.

  The future could wait until morning.