Rakshas: Tales of the Summoned Lord

The final guests had departed, and the once lively banquet hall now stood empty, save for a few servants cleaning up the remnants of the extravagant feast.

The echoes of laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the murmur of polite conversation had faded into silence.

Allen sat in his private study, a glass of fine crimson tear wine untouched beside him. He wasn't in the mood for indulgence. His mind was focused, sharp as a blade being honed for battle.

Across from him, Hilter stood with a meticulous ledger in hand, his expression serious as he prepared to deliver his report.

"Master," Hilter began, his tone ever formal, "the total expenses for tonight's banquet amount to approximately 4,500 gold kross—roughly 25% of our current assets. The lavish arrangements, food, musicians, and venue accounted for the majority of it, but we also had to invest in appropriate gifts and hospitality to secure favor with certain individuals."

Allen nodded, having expected no less. "And the returns?"

Hilter's eyes gleamed with a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction. "We have successfully secured business agreements with three merchant houses. The Silvermane Trading Guild has agreed to an information exchange, the Alden Banking Firm has offered us better credit rates, and most importantly, Leader Gurrin of the west gate garrison has agreed to our request but he demands 50% of the profit."

"50%? These officials are beyond corrupt." Allen shook his head and sighed, "I guess we can't really complain while requesting to smuggle goods. Agree to him."

Allen murmured. "And the political and academic gains?"

"The banquet has raised your standing considerably," Hilter reported. "Several influential figures now view you as an up-and-coming power within the city, though they are still uncertain of your full capabilities. The academy officials who attended have spoken well of you, which further solidifies your position as an instructor backed by Divine Acadamy. More importantly—your invitation to Instructor Claude was a success which increased your prestige. I am sure many who didn't participate would be grinding their teeths."

Allen allowed himself a small smirk. "Yes. That part went exactly as planned."

Hilter hesitated for a moment, then continued, "Someone from Lord Claude came to deliver a message after he left. He stated that we must prepare a hefty sum of money for the resources needed to maximize your chances of breaking through to Gold Rank."

Allen leaned forward slightly. "How much?"

Hilter's expression darkened. "A precise number wasn't given, but… from what I have gathered, it will be no less than 15,000 gold kross, possibly more."

Even Allen, who rarely showed signs of emotion, felt a weight settle on his chest. That was nearly all of their liquid assets.

"Many of the elixirs and medicines are rare—some outright exotic," Hilter continued. "Even if we had the gold, securing them would be impossible without the right connections. Fortunately, Instructor Claude is one of the few who can acquire them. As a direct disciple of the Headmaster of the Divine Academy, his reach extends far beyond the limits of Redbrook."

Allen exhaled slowly. This was the price of progress.

"Move all our available assets if necessary," he ordered, his voice steady. "Liquidate anything that isn't essential. We'll recoup our losses later. For now, nothing matters except breaking through to Gold Rank."

Hilter bowed slightly. "Understood, Master."

Allen reached for a blank parchment and a quill. With swift, deliberate strokes, he wrote out his formal request for a leave of absence from the academy.

"When you're finished, have this delivered to the Headmaster office. From tomorrow onward, I will enter seclusion for training. Unless something urgent arises, I am not to be disturbed. All responsibilities fall on you, Hilter."

Hilter took the letter and bowed deeply. "It will be done."

Allen exhaled, leaning back in his chair. The path to power was never easy. But for the first time in five years, he was about to gamble everything for the chance to rise to the next level.

And he did not intend to fail.

___

Allen exhaled slowly, his breath misting in the cool air of the courtyard. The edge of his sword gleamed, reflecting the faint morning sun. His muscles ached, but it was a satisfying pain—the kind that signaled growth.

For six weeks, he had isolated himself from the outside world, living in the secluded estate owned by Instructor Claude on the outskirts of Redbrook. Unlike the chaos of the main city, this place was quiet, perfect for training, meditation, and refinement.

Claude had not just been his teacher but also his training partner, for the veteran Gold Rank Battlemaster was also preparing for his own breakthrough.

The elixirs and medicinal baths had done their work—Allen could feel his body changing. His battle aura flowed more smoothly, his swordsmanship refined to an even sharper edge. He had studied complex battle aura circulation techniques and few refining tricks developed by Claude.

He tested his limits sparring with Claude, and pushed himself to the brink every day. He cut himself off from all distraction and fully committed to only one goal.

And now, he was only a step away from Gold Rank.

Allen stood shirtless in the center of the training yard, his scarred but powerful physique glistening with sweat. His training blade, heavy yet perfectly balanced, was an extension of his body as he moved through a flawless series of sword forms, his aura flickering with silver energy.

A tall man from the side, observed from a distance, nodded in satisfaction.

"Your footwork has improved," he remarked. "Your swings are sharper. If I didn't know better, I'd say you've already reached Gold Rank."

Allen, barely out of breath, nodded. "Sir Peter."

"I am close, but not quite."

Peter folded his arms. "Yes a Silver Rank fighter who is 'close' to Gold is still just Silver. But—" He paused. "—you can contend with a Gold Rank battle aura swordsman like me, that's outstanding."

That was a massive achievement. To fight beyond one's rank was a rare feat, proving Allen's growth was not normal. Peter was a Level 1 Battle aura master, he's junior of Instructor Claude brought here to regularly spar with him.

Allen exhaled, calming his aura. "Then I just need to push further."

Peter chuckled. "You're not wrong. But the final step… is always the hardest."

He was about to speak further when a shadow flickered at the edge of the training ground.

Allen immediately turned his head, his battle aura stirring instinctively—but he relaxed the moment he saw who it was.

It was a lean, wiry young man with messy black hair and sharp fox-like eyes. Dressed in dark, loose-fitting clothes, he moved with an effortless grace, his steps silent as a shadow.

It was Jasper, a young man around 17 years old, with Iron Rank Level 3 strength and natural agility that made him a formidable scout. Also with a tendency to cause trouble and get into street fights.

"Jasper I have warned you don't sneak around everywhere, although you are very good in stealth, a Gold rank can easily detect you. A single wave of their sword is enough to end you."

"Hehe.. " Jasper scratched the back of his head and smile embarrassedly.

Peter raised an eyebrow. "I assume you're here for something urgent, I'll leave you to it."

Jasper bowed slightly, his tone carrying urgency. "Master Allen, people from your family have arrived in Redbrook."

Silence.

Allen's expression barely changed, but a flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes,"Finally here... "

Allen was silent for a long moment before speaking, his voice calm yet carrying a hidden sharpness.

"Let's see what they have to say. Prepare the carriage, we are leaving."