The corridors of the Leonhart Ducal Estate were vast, cold, and suffocatingly quiet at this hour of the night.
Rias walked silently across the plush velvet carpets, his footsteps making absolutely no sound.
Before his awakening, a simple walk from his secluded quarters to the servant's kitchen would have left him winded, his frail joints aching with every step.
But now, things were entirely different.
Every breath he took was perfectly synchronized with the flow of the world. The ambient mana in the air, usually invisible and inert to normal humans, flowed into his lungs like a cool, refreshing stream. It nourished his newly purified veins, constantly revitalizing his muscles and sweeping away any lingering fatigue.
He didn't need to focus on it. He didn't need to chant. His body simply breathed in power as naturally as a mortal breathed air.
'I'm starving,' Rias thought, placing a hand over his hollow stomach.
'Purging all those impurities took a massive toll on my physical reserves. I need actual meat, not just a healing potion.'
He navigated the labyrinthine hallways with the ease of someone who had designed the very building. Because, technically, he had.
He knew exactly where the patrols of the estate guards were. He knew which floorboards creaked. He knew how to reach the auxiliary kitchens without alerting the night staff.
Rias finally reached the heavy, iron-wrought double doors of the lower kitchen.
He pushed them open, expecting the dark, quiet sanctuary of the kitchen staff's, perhaps a leftover roast hanging over the cooled hearth.
Instead, he was greeted by the warm, flickering glow of a mana-lamp and the distinct, rich scent of Elven wine.
Rias paused in the doorway.
Sitting at the grand wooden chair, casually swirling a crystal goblet of crimson wine, was a young man.
He had shiny, silver-blonde hair tied neatly at the nape of his neck. His features were painfully handsome, but sharply angled. His eyes were narrow, slanted, and gleamed with a calculating, golden light.
He looked exactly like a well-dressed, incredibly dangerous fox.
Lucien von Leonhart.
The second son of the Duke, the tactical genius of the family, and the mastermind who had been slipping Lily gold coins to slowly torment Rias.
"Well, well, well," Lucien drawled, his voice smooth as silk but laced with a patronizing edge.
"Look what the healers managed to drag out of the grave. I heard you collapsed swinging a wooden stick, Rias. Has the floor finally released you from its deadly grip?"
Rias's face remained perfectly blank.
His new passive skill—Deception, flared to life in the back of his mind. A profound sense of calm washed over him.
'So, he's waiting here,' Rias thought, analyzing the situation in a fraction of a second.
'He likely heard from one of his spies that Lily ran out of my room crying. He came down to the kitchens to intercept her or to see the results of his little poisoned stew experiment.'
"Brother Lucien," Rias replied softly, offering a shallow, impeccably polite bow.
"I did not expect to see you gracing the servant's quarters at this hour."
Lucien took a slow sip of his wine, his golden eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. He was searching Rias's face for any sign of pain, anger, or humiliation.
He found absolutely nothing.
"I was merely parched," Lucien lied smoothly, setting the goblet down.
"Though, I must say, you look remarkably... lively. I was under the impression your recent failure had left you bedridden. Did your little maid not bring you your supper?"
There it was. The bait.
Lucien was probing to see if Rias had consumed the spiked stew.
Rias walked fully into the kitchen, his posture relaxed, his breathing perfectly steady. He didn't cower. He didn't avert his gaze, which was the original Rias's usual defense mechanism against his terrifying older brother.
"Lily?" Rias tilted his head, feigning mild confusion.
"She did bring me a rather lovely stew, yes. But she seemed terribly fatigued. I insisted she have a taste of it herself to keep up her strength."
Lucien's fingers twitched against the stem of his wine glass. It was a microscopic movement, but with Rias's newly enhanced perception, it was as loud as a thunderclap.
"You... gave your food to a servant?" Lucien asked, his voice dropping half an octave.
"I did," Rias smiled gently.
"Though, she seemed to have a rather sudden, violent stomach ache immediately afterward. She ran off quite frantically. I suspect the kitchen staff might be letting their ingredients spoil. You should be careful with that wine, Brother."
Silence descended upon the kitchen.
The air around Lucien began to warp. A suffocating, dense aura of pure mana slowly leaked from his body, creeping across the stone floor like a freezing mist. It was an intimidation tactic, meant to trigger the primal fear responses of anyone weaker than him.
In the past, this pressure alone would have forced Rias to his knees, gasping for air.
Now? Rias just looked at it.
With his celestial comprehension, Rias didn't just feel the pressure; he could actually see the structural flow of Lucien's mana.
'It's inefficient,' Rias realized with a jolt of genuine surprise.
'He's leaking at least thirty percent of his energy just trying to project it outwards. The circulation path in his chest is forced. He's called a genius, but his foundation is riddled with microscopic cracks.'
Rias didn't break a sweat. He didn't even blink. He just stood there, letting his brother's heavy aura wash over him like a gentle, meaningless breeze.
Lucien's fox-like eyes widened a fraction of an inch.
For the first time in his life, his absolute control over a situation was slipping. Why wasn't the trash of the family trembling? Why did his Crimson eyes look so terrifyingly deep, like pools of stagnant blood that reflected nothing?
"You—" Lucien started, his tone losing a fraction of its usual smooth composure.
"Young Master Rias. Young Master Lucien."
A crisp, authoritative voice shattered the tension in the room.
The heavy kitchen doors swung open fully, revealing Head Butler Sebastian. The silver-haired man stood perfectly straight, his face an unreadable mask of professional duty.
Lucien instantly withdrew his mana, the oppressive aura vanishing as if it had never existed. He picked up his wine glass, returning to his role as the elegant second son.
"Sebastian," Lucien acknowledged smoothly.
"What brings you to the kitchens?"
"I have been searching for Young Master Rias," Sebastian replied, his sharp eyes flicking briefly toward Rias, noting his relaxed posture with a hint of hidden surprise.
"His Grace, the Duke, has summoned the entire family to the Grand Dining Hall. Immediately."
Lucien's composed facade finally cracked. He frowned, genuinely confused.
"Father? At this hour? Has something happened at the northern border?"
"I am not privy to His Grace's mind, Young Master," Sebastian said bowing slightly. He turned his piercing gaze to Rias.
"Please follow me. The Duke does not appreciate being kept waiting."
'The Grand Dining Hall,' Rias thought, his heart giving a single, heavy thump.
This wasn't in the original plotline. In the novel, Rias spent an entire week rotting in his bed, completely ignored by the family until the next major arc began.
Had his survival altered the timeline already? Or had the anomaly of his awakening triggered a new event?
"Very well," Rias said calmly.
He didn't look back at Lucien. He simply walked past his older brother, following the Head Butler out into the grand corridors.
The walk to the Grand Dining Hall felt entirely different than the journey to the kitchens. The air grew heavier, thicker, as if gravity itself was being increased.
They reached a massive set of double doors forged from black iron and etched with the roaring lion crest of the Leonhart family.
Sebastian pulled the heavy doors open.
Rias stepped inside.
The Grand Dining Hall was luxurious, imposing chamber lit by dozens of floating magical chandeliers. A long, dark table stretched across the center of the room.
Sitting at the various seats were the monsters of the Leonhart family.
Sitting at the far right was Kael, the youngest son. Though only thirteen, the boy's eyes burned with chaotic, unrefined power. Crackles of raw elemental fire and wind periodically sparked around his fingertips. He was looking at a silver fork, melting it simply by staring at it.
Beside him sat Elisa, the sole daughter and the beloved jewel of the family. She was stunningly beautiful, with cascading blonde hair and eyes like polished sapphires. She sat perfectly upright, an aura of pure, elegant ice mana surrounding her. She didn't even glance at Rias as he entered; to her, he was simply dust on the floor.
Sitting closer to the head of the table was Caspian, the eldest son and the heir apparently.
Caspian's presence was like a drawn blade. He didn't leak mana like Lucien did. Instead, his entire body felt like a condensed, lethal weapon. If Rias stepped too close, he felt as though he might be physically cut by the sheer sharpness of Caspian's sword aura.
And then, there were the two figures sitting at the head of the table.
Duchess Melisa sat with flawless, aristocratic grace. Her face was a mask of cold, evaluating indifference. She was a master of high-society politics and a terrifyingly powerful illusionist in her own right. She looked at Rias with open, undisguised disdain, hating the physical reminder of her husband's infidelity.
Finally, Rias's gaze shifted to the head of the table.
Duke Reinhard von Leonhart.
The man was a towering behemoth of muscle and scars, dressed in a dark, military-style tunic. His hair was a mane of thick, greying blonde, and his eyes were the exact same shade of crimson as Rias's.
But where Rias's eyes were calm, the Duke's eyes were like a swirling abyss of destruction.
Just making eye contact with the man felt like having a physical weight dropped directly onto one's chest.
'So this is the strongest man in the Empire,' Rias thought, his breathing accelerating because of the suffocating pressure of the Duke's mere existence. 'His aura is suffocating. It's like standing in front of a natural disaster.'
Lucien stepped into the room behind Rias, smoothly taking his designated seat next to Caspian.
That left Rias standing alone at the foot of the long table, the singular target of the family's collective, terrifying presence.
In the past, the original Rias would have already collapsed to his knees, sweating profusely, begging for forgiveness for whatever perceived sin he had committed.
But Rias didn't kneel.
He stood perfectly straight. His back was rigidly upright, his hands resting naturally at his sides. The absolute perfection of his new foundation circulated mana through his body, creating an invisible, impenetrable fortress around his mind and soul.
He looked directly down the length of the table, meeting the terrifying crimson eyes of Duke Reinhard without a single flinch.
The silence in the dining hall stretched on, taut as a bowstring.
Caspian paused his silent meditation, his sharp eyes flicking toward Rias in mild surprise.
Kael stopped melting his fork.
Even the cold, indifferent Elisa blinked, a faint ripple disturbing her perfect icy aura.
Why wasn't the trash trembling?
Duke Reinhard leaned forward, resting his hands on the dark wood of the table. When he spoke, his voice rumbled like an approaching earthquake, rattling the crystal glasses in the room.
"I was told you were bedridden, boy," the Duke stated, his words devoid of any paternal warmth. It was an accusation.
Rias held the man's gaze. A faint, fearless smile tugged at the very corner of his lips.
"I recovered faster than expected, Your Grace," Rias replied smoothly, his voice echoing clearly in the massive hall.
"Was there something you required of me?"
The Duke's eyes narrowed, the destructive aura in the room spiking dangerously.