As Asher sat on his bed, lost in thought about the countless scenes of arrogant nobles being humbled that he might soon witness, a soft knock echoed from the door.
"Come in," he said calmly.
The door creaked open, revealing Lyra, who stepped inside with a folded cloth draped neatly over her arms.
"This is your attire for the party, Young Master," she said with a gentle smile, extending it toward him. "What do you think?"
Asher examined the garment briefly, then gave a faint nod. He didn’t dwell on the details, if Lyra had selected it, that was more than enough for him. Her choices had never failed him before, after all, she had basically been picking Asher’s clothes since his birth.
Rising from the bed, Asher walked over to the wardrobe standing silently against the wall. With a swift motion, he opened it, retrieved a few garments, and handed them to Lyra.
Without needing a word of instruction, she instinctively understood and transferred the items into her space ring.
Asher then began preparing a few personal essentials. He wasn’t sure if they would come across a river or stream suitable for bathing during the three-day journey. The customs of this era were still unfamiliar to him, and he preferred to be prepared.
Once he had finished, Lyra quietly exited the room. Asher then settled onto the bed, crossed his legs, and began to cultivate, letting his breathing steady as he sank into focused silence.
Several minutes passed before another knock echoed from the door. Asher didn’t need to ask, he already knew it was Zarek. He had long since learned to recognize people by the rhythm and weight of their knock.
Rising from the bed, he walked to the door and opened it.
Zarek stood outside, bowing slightly as he spoke with respectful composure, "Everything is ready, Tenth Sun."
Asher gave a silent nod and followed behind him. They descended the staircase and moved through a vast, echoing hall. Eventually, Asher stepped outside.
The estate slowly came into view, majestic and expansive. Twin water fountains flanked the entrance to the manor, one on each side, their crystal streams rising and falling in a rhythmic dance.
Neatly trimmed grass rolled across the land in soft, verdant waves, while towering trees spiraled skyward, their branches swaying gently as the wind whispered through them. The breeze added a touch of grace to an already breathtaking scene.
’How vast.’ Asher mused inwardly.
In his previous life, even those within the top one percent of society would have struggled to afford a place of this grandeur. Perhaps only the elusive top 0.1% could claim such luxury. He exhaled softly and shook his head, dismissing the thought.
He approached the grand carriage stationed ahead, its frame imposing, its surface a striking blend of deep black and radiant gold plating. Asher didn’t need to guess; this wasn’t merely gold-colored paint.
No, it was genuine gold, gleaming under the light with unmistakable opulence.
’So this is how nobles live,’ he thought, a flicker of surprise crossing his mind.
He tried to recall if anyone in his previous life had ever plated their cars in gold or diamonds. He couldn’t think of a single one.
It suddenly struck him how little he had thought about Crymora’s transportation systems. His time had been consumed entirely by relentless training. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he had expected the kind of basic wooden carriage he’d read about in books. What stood before him, however, was anything but ordinary.
Two imposing horses stood silently at the front of the carriage, exuding calm strength, as though awaiting a silent command.
Beside the carriage, Asher took note of five guards stationed vigilantly. Each was clad in polished armor, their long capes cascading down their backs in dignified folds. Embossed on their chests, and on the side of the carriage, was the unmistakable crest of House Wargrave: a blazing sun, rendered in exquisite detail, its flames seemingly alive.
Though Asher could faintly sense traces of aura seeping from their bodies, he couldn’t determine their exact Life Ranks. Their strength was clear, but not easily measured.
He turned slightly to glance at Zarek, who stood silently behind him, composed as ever.
"Goodbye, Zarek. See you in a few days," Asher said, his tone calm.
With that, he stepped into the carriage with steady, purposeful strides. Lyra followed closely behind, her movements graceful and silent.
’The Youngest Master is finally leaving the estate for the first time,’ Zarek thought, the ever-present smile on his face deepening slightly with quiet pride.
Across the estate grounds, several maids and butlers had paused in their duties, their gazes fixed on the departing carriage. It was a rare sight, Asher Wargrave, born into legacy and silence, was leaving the estate for the very first time since his birth.
"Let’s move," came Asher’s calm command from within the carriage.
The coachman responded instantly, snapping the reins with practiced precision. The horses surged forward, and the grand carriage eased into motion. The armored guards fell into formation around it, their movements synchronized and silent, like shadows escorting nobility into the world.
Asher had anticipated an uncomfortable ride, jolting up and down with every bump in the road, but to his surprise, the carriage glided forward with remarkable smoothness. It was clearly engineered for luxury, every detail crafted with comfort in mind. Of course, it made perfect sense.
There was no world in which nobles of any status would endure days of travel in discomfort without devising an elegant solution.
The journey remained smooth, the only sound accompanying them the whispering roar of wind as the carriage sliced effortlessly through the air. A gentle breeze drifted into the cabin through the open window, where Asher sat, his gaze fixed on the passing landscape.
Then, without warning, his hand shot out, gripping the edge of the carriage with extreme ease. In one fluid motion, he pulled himself upward, his body twisting midair with a natural grace. He vaulted through the window and landed atop the carriage roof with effortless ease, as if gravity itself had chosen not to interfere.
Asher was fully aware of the risk of what he just did, an arrow loosed from the shadows could end his life in an instant. But he also understood the nature of such threats.
Assassins rarely struck so close to their target’s home; they preferred to wait, often days into the journey, when reinforcements would be far out of reach and escape routes limited.
The wind lashed against his skin, sharp and wild, yet strangely invigorating. Around him, the world blurred in motion, a rush of color and speed that danced at the edges of his vision.
Tilting his head upward, Asher’s eyes settled on the sky. Wisps of white clouds drifted lazily across the expanse, streaked against the soft blue canvas above.
For a moment, he simply watched, silently admiring the vastness, the freedom, and the quiet majesty of the heavens.
’These horses are far faster than any ordinary breed,’ Asher observed, eyes fixed on the blur of their powerful strides. The speed was extraordinary, yet unsurprising. After all, Astra had catalyzed the evolution of nearly every living being in this world.
Despite the wind resistance, Asher remained steady, his body instinctively adapting, balanced against the rush of air. For a while, he simply watched in silence, taking in the ever-shifting landscape that stretched out before him. Eventually, he lowered himself to a seated position atop the carriage, his expression calm, contemplative.
’Jennifer would love this view and probably the party I’m headed to,’ he thought, a small smile tugging at his lips.
At least at this gathering, he bore the title of a Duke’s son. There would be no tired cliché of being dismissed for lacking noble blood, not this time.
’Though some might still look down on me for awakening so late,’ he admitted inwardly. But the thought barely lingered.
’Let them.’ The smile remained, undisturbed.