Reincarnation of Dragongod

The nights have become my secret companion, the shadows welcoming me as I sneak down to the underground library to study magic.

But tonight, something is off. The air feels heavier, and a faint unease prickles at the back of my neck.

"Where are you going?"

The voice cuts through the silence like a blade. I freeze mid-step. Slowly, I turn, and there she is—Milith Vandor.

[Status Window]

[Name]: Milith Vandor

[Age]: 15

[Race]: Human

[Title]: Eldest Daughter of the Vandor Family, Sword Prodigy

[Strength]: A+

[Mana]: B+

[Vitality]: A

[Agility]: S

[Intelligence]: B+

[Unique Abilities]: Sword Perception - SS

[Other Abilities]: Advanced Swordsmanship, Combat Intuition

---

Milith Vandor. My older sister.

Though only fifteen, she's already a force to be reckoned with—a prodigy whose talent with the sword rivals some of the legendary Nine Swordmasters.

Standing at the end of the corridor, half-lit by moonlight, she looks like a phantom in the dark. Her silver eyes glint coldly, and her arms are crossed in that way that makes her look even more imposing.

"Out for a walk," I say quickly, forcing a casual tone. "To get some fresh air."

Her gaze doesn't waver. It pierces right through me, as though she can hear the frantic thudding of my heart and see the truth etched on my face.

"At this hour?" Her voice is calm, but there's a dangerous edge to it. She takes a step forward, and I instinctively take a half-step back. "You think the halls are your playground, Zenith?"

"It's not like that," I reply, trying to sound convincing. "I couldn't sleep, so I just—"

She stops in front of me, looking down with that unshakable, noble demeanor she always carries. For a moment, I think she's going to press further, force the truth out of me. But instead, her eyes narrow slightly, as though weighing my words.

"I see."

Her voice softens—just a little. It's almost imperceptible, but I notice it. She tilts her head slightly, studying me as though trying to figure out what exactly I'm hiding.

"Don't let Father see you wandering around at night," she finally says. "Weaklings shouldn't test their luck."

Her words sting, but they don't carry the venom I expect. Instead, they sound... off, as though there's something unspoken behind them. A warning? Concern?

Before I can respond, she steps past me, her footsteps fading into the distance.

I exhale slowly, realizing I've been holding my breath. My palms are clammy, and my heart refuses to slow down.

"What was that about?" I mutter under my breath, glancing back the way she left.

It's strange. I don't know if Milith actually believes my excuse or if she's letting me go. Either way, I feel like I've just survived a duel without drawing my blade.

And yet, despite her cold exterior, something nags at me. For a moment, in her words and gaze, I think I saw something... soft. Almost like she was watching over me.

No, I shake the thought away. Milith? Caring? Impossible.

I continue my path toward the library, her warning still ringing in my ears. If she catches me again, I doubt I'll get off so easily. For now, though, I have work to do—and codes to write.

------

The soft knock on the heavy door echoed through the quiet of the patriarch's office. Vellion Vandor, seated behind his broad oak desk, didn't bother looking up from the parchment in his hands.

"Enter."

The door creaked open, and Alfred, the ever-dutiful butler, stepped inside. The glow of the fireplace cast long shadows over the polished wooden floor and the swords mounted proudly on the stone walls.

"What is it?" Vellion asked, his voice calm but laced with authority.

Alfred bowed slightly before speaking. "My lord, there has been an encounter tonight. Between the young master and Lady Milith."

At this, Vellion's gaze finally lifted, his interest piqued just a little. "Oh? Milith again"

"Yes, my lord," Alfred replied. "She caught the young master wandering through the hallways tonight."

Vellion leaned back in his chair, an amused smirk playing at his lips. "That boy… And what excuse did he offer?"

"She asked where he was going," Alfred said carefully. "The young master told her he was taking a walk to get some fresh air."

"Fresh air," Vellion repeated, chuckling faintly. "Does he think Milith is a fool? That excuse wouldn't fool a servant, let alone her." He let out a low hum, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest. "Milith's sharp as ever, but I assume she let him go?"

"She did, my lord," Alfred confirmed. "She didn't press him further."

"Soft-hearted," Vellion muttered with faint amusement. "She pretends not to care, but that girl's always watching him."

"I was almost shocked, she took down all the assassins by herself the other night sent by the house Solanaris", Alfred said.

He leaned forward again, elbows resting on the desk. "Still, Milith didn't waste time in libraries at his age. She picked up a sword at six and hasn't let go since. Zenith is seven now—don't you think it's time he stops wandering around and starts swinging a blade?"

Alfred hesitated briefly, his expression unreadable.

"But, He's been going to the library," Alfred said carefully.

Vellion scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. "Yeah, You told that already. It's hardly a secret."

Alfred inclined his head. "Yes, my lord. But what you may not know… is that he has been going there every night for the past year."

Vellion's expression froze for a moment. "Every night?"

"Not a single day missed," Alfred confirmed. "Without fail. He slips out after the household retires and spends hours there. He returns before dawn, almost as though he were never gone."

Silence descended over the room as the words sank in. The crackle of the fire seemed louder now, filling the void left by Vellion's stillness. Slowly, the patriarch leaned back in his chair, his sharp gaze fixed on the flames as if deep in thought.

"Every night…" he murmured. His voice was quieter now, but no less commanding. "For a year?"

Vellion's fingers steepled before his chin as his eyes narrowed, the flames dancing in his calculating gaze. "That kind of persistence… is not idle curiosity."

"Indeed, my lord," Alfred said softly.

Alfred cleared his throat slightly. "Shall I continue observing him, my lord?"

Vellion nodded slowly. "Do that. Hereafter, I want you to report about Zenith too"

"As you command, my lord." Alfred bowed, his form disappearing behind the heavy door as it closed quietly.

"Every night… for a year…" he murmured once more, his voice barely audible. The fire crackled again, as though in answer, and the flickering flames reflected the sharp edge of his thoughts.