Chapter 2: The Seventh Son
Leon stood motionless before the mirror, his left eye twitching completely out of control.
The young man reflected in the glass wasn’t him.
No freaking way.
Long, silky black hair framed a face that was, frankly, disgustingly handsome. Sharp, chiseled features gave him an elite noble vibe, while a pair of clear emerald-green eyes stared right back at him with the exact same "what the actual hell" expression he was feeling inside.
For several agonizing seconds, the two of them just stood there, staring each other down.
Slowly, Leon raised his right hand. The reflection copied him perfectly. He touched his cheek. The skin was impossibly smooth. No scars, no blemishes, and absolutely no sign of the dark, heavy eyebags that had made his previous face look like a crumpled piece of used tissue paper.
"Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me..." Leon muttered, his voice sounding entirely too smooth. "This isn’t a dream. It’s not a prank. Did I seriously just hijack a supermodel’s body?"
A sudden wave of panic shot through him. The last thing he remembered was that brutal, stabbing pain in his chest, the suffocating darkness, and the distinct feeling of his soul leaving his body. He had died. Done. Fin. Yet, by some cosmic joke, here he was, standing upright, breathing, and trapped inside the skin of a total stranger.
Leon took a deep breath, trying to stop his heart from leaping straight out of his throat. Screaming and throwing a tantrum wasn’t going to fix this. He needed to figure out what kind of mess he had dropped into.
But just as he turned around to inspect the room, a bizarre sensation began creeping through his veins. He froze.
Warmth. A strange, intoxicating warmth started flowing through his body like a mild electrical current, spreading from his chest to the tips of his fingers and toes. His eyes widened to the size of saucers, and goosebumps broke out across his skin.
He had never felt this in his entire life, but from the thousands of books he had desperately memorized, he recognized it in a heartbeat.
"M-Mana?"
His breath hitched. For ten whole years, he had chased this exact feeling. For ten years, he had envied every single random Awakener who could summon a spark from their pinky finger while he got nothing. And now? Mana was saturating his body so heavily it almost made him dizzy.
Leon closed his eyes, feeling like he might actually faint from sheer joy. The mana in this body wasn’t just a slight upgrade; it was pure, dense, and borderline terrifying. Even without a single lick of magical training, he could tell that comparing this to anything he had ever imagined was like comparing premium bottled spring water to a muddy puddle.
A completely hysterical, borderline idiotic laugh escaped his lips—the first genuine smile he had cracked in a decade.
But the body modifications didn’t stop there. As he took an experimental step forward, he realized he was moving with terrifying lightness, almost like he was gliding on air. Perfect balance, completely silent footsteps, and every single muscle reacting in a fraction of a millisecond.
Driven by pure curiosity, he reached out, grabbed the armrest of a nearby polished wooden chair, and gave it a tiny, casual squeeze.
*CRACK.*
The solid wood split right down the middle. Leon ripped his hand back as if he’d been electrocuted, his eyes narrowing in utter disbelief. He hadn’t even meant to break it. That was just a light touch!
He stared down at his palm, completely dumbfounded. "What kind of cheat-code body is this? Am I a human or a tank?"
Right on cue, as if the universe was just waiting for him to ask, a familiar translucent blue screen flickered to life right in front of his face.
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[ Name: Malrik Vesperion ]
[ Race: Human ]
[ Class: Unawakened ]
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[ Strength: 8 ]
[ Agility: 9 ]
[ Constitution: 10 ]
[ Intelligence: 100 ]
---
Leon abandoned the broken chair and locked his eyes onto the final stat. His jaw practically unhinged.
"One... one hundred?! Holy crap!"
His heart straight-up skipped a beat. One hundred. To anyone else, that might just be a high starting stat. To Leon, it was a literal get-out-of-jail-free card.
Ten years of absolute misery, spent staring at a flat (0) in Intelligence that refused to budge. And now, a clean hundred right out of the gate? This wasn’t just enough to kickstart his dormant "Infinite Evolution" talent; it was enough to give him a magical brain blast.
A complicated, half-crazed grin spread across his face. If someone had approached him in his past life and said, *"Trade your entire lifespan for this single number,"* he would have signed the contract in blood while thanking them profusely.
Then, out of nowhere, a savage headache slammed into his temples like a rogue sledgehammer.
Leon stumbled backward, clutching his head and groaning, "Agh! My brain! Seriously, not the time!"
Fragments of foreign memories started aggressively shoving their way into his mind. He saw a colossal black castle looming over a jagged mountain peak, endless training grounds, mind-numbing swordsmanship drills, and a terrifyingly stern man carrying a massive black greatsword, flanked by six young men standing tall with nauseating levels of pride and arrogance.
And finally, the face from the mirror. Malrik Vesperion. The original owner of this body.
The data dump completed, filling in the blanks. House Vesperion. One of the absolute strongest ducal families on the entire continent, renowned for producing legendary swordsmen generation after generation. Every single kid born into this bloodline was expected to be a world-class prodigy, or else they were considered dead weight.
And the Duke certainly delivered on the headcount: the first son was a certified genius, the second was a monster, and the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth were all walking weapons each recognized as a prodigy worthy of House Vesperion.
Compared to that lineup of overachievers, Malrik was the ordinary "black sheep" of the family. Not because he was actually weak or stupid—hell no! But because the baseline standards of this family were completely warped. Compared to his brothers, Malrik lacked the natural talent that made the others monsters with a sword. What he possessed instead was an unusually vast mana reserve—something impressive on paper, but of little value inside a family that judged people by what they could accomplish with a blade. Mana alone couldn’t win battles, and Malrik had never learned to make proper use of it.
Leon burst into a fit of ironic laughter. "A hundred... After living with zero for ten years, this feels unreal."
He shook his head, looking back at the floating screen. "If this is what they consider the weakest link... what the hell do the others do? Split mountains with a sword?"
Before he could continue roasting his new lineage, a polite, crisp knock rattled the heavy door.
*Knock. Knock. Knock.*
Leon flinched, quickly throwing his shoulders back and trying to steady his voice. "Come in."
The heavy door creaked open, and a young maid stepped inside, wearing a pristine black-and-white uniform. She carried herself with such practiced, rigid elegance it was enough to make an ordinary guy feel like a peasant. The moment she spotted him standing on his own two feet, a visible wave of relief washed over her face.
"Young Master Malrik," she said, bowing deeply. "I am glad to see you are awake."
Leon remained dead silent, keeping his face completely expressionless to avoid accidentally blowing his cover. The maid, completely oblivious to the fact that her master’s brain had been replaced by a dead guy from Earth, continued in a professional tone.
"I apologize for disturbing your rest, but the Awakening Ceremony will commence in thirty minutes. Please prepare yourself."
*The Awakening Ceremony.* The words instantly snapped his brain into high alert. His new memories confirmed that today was Malrik’s sixteenth birthday—the ultimate day of reckoning for every young noble on the continent, where their class and future destiny would be permanently set in stone.
The maid tilted her head slightly, noticing his blank stare. "Young Master?"
Leon slowly turned his gaze toward the massive window. Beyond the glass lay a vast, dangerous, and completely uncharted world. A new body, a ridiculously wealthy yet terrifying family, and a second chance at life he never saw coming.
In exactly thirty minutes, his new life would officially kick off.
A devious, incredibly satisfied smirk crept onto his face. He murmured under his breath, "Thirty minutes, huh?... Sweet. Time to show these people what a real disappointment looks like."
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