Unyielding Resolve
Ludenberg Lavante was panting in the training grounds. Though he had failed to awaken to divine power, he had always resolved to do what must be done. By avoiding contact with others, he wasted no time needlessly, devoting himself entirely to his own training. His father, Duke Leonard Lavante, praised Ludenberg's attitude. He grieved that his son had come to despise others, but he was deeply moved by his unyielding determination. And so, Leonard trained him harshly, preparing him to face the world's tempests—even drills no ordinary twelve-year-old could endure. Yet Ludenberg never gave up, not even in the face of such brutality. Just like now.
Staring straight ahead with unshakable poise, he swung his sword. Thick sweat poured down, his arms and legs twitching with cramps from exhaustion, but Ludenberg never let his form break.
This made three thousand. The final set of imperial swordsmanship assigned for the day.
"Excellent. Good work."
Ludenberg gazed expressionlessly at his father, who smiled with satisfaction.
"Is today's training over?"
"Yes. No need to push yourself further. We'll end here. Go inside and rest."
"...Understood. Thank you, Father."
Duke Leonard Lavante sighed as he watched his son turn away with a blank face.
It's a pity.
His son was a genius. With divine power, he could have surpassed even Leonard himself within a decade. Yet for all his extraordinary physique and innate talent for martial arts, he lacked the one crucial thing.
Divine power. The gods' grace that elevated humans beyond their limits. The force to battle the monstrous aberrations—the erosion beasts—that tore through the world to devour humanity.
Erosion beasts possessed hides of unbreakable toughness, shells and armor that human strength alone could scarcely pierce. Divine power was what allowed one to rend those fortifications with ease.
But Ludenberg had been denied it.
Had the gods truly abandoned his son?
Even so, as a father, Leonard could not make Ludenberg abandon the path of the sword. He still remembered vividly the day his son first gripped one.
Demonstrating basic imperial swordsmanship before Ludenberg's eyes, he handed the boy the blade—and the child replicated it perfectly on the first try. Who was he, after all? The empire's pinnacle knight, standing at the height of the vast Solemnute Empire. And Ludenberg had matched his technique after seeing it just once. Something even seasoned knights couldn't achieve.
That was why it hurt so much. So profoundly.
He could have become a knight far greater than Leonard himself.
Yet the duke never let it show. If his own regret was mere disappointment, what Ludenberg felt must be an despair beyond words.
Instead, Leonard tempered him relentlessly. Teaching him ways to confront erosion beasts without divine power, forging the strength to pierce their hides unaided.
And Ludenberg had succeeded. He pierced an erosion beast's hide. At the tender age of twelve. A mere low-rank one, but still.
How elated he'd been then.
Yet the regret lingered, inescapable.
Still, Leonard hoped. Hoped his son would not crumble. Would not surrender.
That was his sole wish.
As Ludenberg returned to his room after training, the distant chatter of maids reached his ears. To him, it was grating noise.
"...Last time, when young master Ludenberg glared at us—it was so scary. He's been like that more lately. No expression at all... Especially since that birthday banquet."
"Yeah. Seems worse these days. Even little mistakes he used to let slide, he chews you out harshly now... He's changed. He used to be so kind."
Ludenberg's face hardened. Now even the maids were gossiping about his past.
It was utterly ridiculous.
That "birthday banquet" referred to the Eden Asta birthday assault incident, no doubt.
Ludenberg had once had many "friends"—in truth, mere sycophants clinging to his talent and lineage, but he'd believed them true companions.
Then, around the baptism rite, their attitudes flipped entirely.
At Eden's birthday banquet, which he'd attended by chance, Ludenberg overheard his own friends badmouthing him alongside Eden.
And it was Eden who drew out their slander.
Eden Asta, chosen by three gods. Awakening Terra, Mare, and Celioum divine powers—a shock to the Solemnute Empire, etching history as the one and only.
Yet before the rite, Eden harbored fierce inferiority toward Ludenberg. He envied the superior talent and sought to tear him down.
So Eden toured banquets, inciting gossip against Ludenberg. His followers abandoned him for Eden.
Ludenberg witnessed it plainly. Eden calling him a "cursed wretch" with a sneer, his so-called friends chiming in with laughter.
The shock of the baptism, the betrayal—it fueled uncontrollable rage, aimed squarely at Eden, the ringleader.
The memory burned vivid. Unbidden, his mind replayed it in stark detail.
Nobles chattered amid the banquet hall. Amid them walked Ludenberg, seeking his friends to shake off the baptism's gloom.
But what he found was Eden—whom he'd never been close with—and his friends fawning over him, mocking Ludenberg.
"Isn't it hilarious? No one saw the great Ludenberg ending up like that."
"Totally. Did you see his face then? Priceless."
"Right? That end-of-the-world look. Too bad you missed it, Eden."
Gawin Greta, Marvin Ashus, Leb Heinz. They regaled Eden with Ludenberg's humiliation. Eden smiled leisurely amid them, subtly goading the digs.
"Must've been fun. That smug face twisting up. Wish I'd seen it."
"Don't even. Everyone there lost it. We did too."
"Makes sense. Seeing someone forsaken by the gods... Yeah, their reactions must've been a sight. Pathetic, probably."
They nodded in agreement.
Ludenberg couldn't believe his ears. Bitter betrayal chilled his spine as he approached.
Eden spotted him, smirking triumphantly.
Gawin, Marvin, and Leb turned—then paled in horror. Ludenberg's face was contorted in fury.
Fear crept into their expressions. Divine power or not, he was the Lavante heir—not someone to trifle with lightly.
Ludenberg closed in. The adults had long slipped out to the garden, leaving only young nobles inside.
"So that's what you think."
"Oh, you know, Ludenberg? No one's on your side here. Who in Solemnute would favor someone the gods rejected? Even Duke Lavante pities you."
At Ludenberg's low growl, Eden sneered and provoked him further.
Eden sought to slake his long-held inferiority by humiliating Ludenberg and ruining his reputation. Inviting him despite their rift, manipulating his "friends" to stoke his rage—it was all calculated. To provoke violence at the birthday host's own party, an unforgivable breach in noble society.
And Eden figured he could counter with divine power if needed.
But Ludenberg had seen through the petty scheme. He'd long sensed Eden's resentment.
So he played along. He knew the value in his name and house—any tarnish must be crushed, no matter how transparent the trap.
Ludenberg lunged at Eden.
Eden grinned in triumph, ready to retaliate.
But he'd overlooked two facts. First, even with three divine powers, he couldn't wield them adeptly yet. Second—
Smack—
Ludenberg's prowess far outstripped any peer.
A dull thud echoed as Eden tumbled across the floor.
Onlookers gasped, turning to Ludenberg.
He didn't stop. Grabbing Eden's collar, yanking him up, then slamming another brutal fist into his face.
Eden's scream rang through the hall. Nobles muttered that the Lavante heir had finally lost it...
After that, Ludenberg trusted no one. He shut himself away.
Snapping from the memory, Ludenberg glared at the distant maids.
It was so absurd, he nearly laughed.
What noble house's servants dared gossip so freely about their betters? It meant they saw him as a joke.
In his own home, no less. He had no intention of letting such underlings babble unchecked.