The hour was past midnight in the de Foix family mansion, but the faint light emanating from Cairo's bedroom indicated that two of its occupants were not asleep. Inside, glorious chaos reigned.

  Empty bags of Spicy Dragon Cheese flavored potato chips were scattered on the luxurious carpet, and on the large screen of Cairo's phone, a silent and dazzling video of a legendary sorcerer forming a bridge of pure light over a deep chasm was playing.

  Look at his control over the particles, Cairo whispered with excitement, his mouth full of chips. "This is impossible. There must be a cinematic trick. No one can stabilize Stone energy with such density.

  Dio sat beside him on the floor, his back leaning against the silk bed, eating with a calm, methodical rhythm, his golden eyes watching the video with cold analysis. he finally said It's not density, Look at the edges. They're fluctuating. He's not stabilizing it; he's constantly regenerating it at a rate faster than its decay. It's not a construction; it's a continuous flow.

  Cairo looked at him for a moment, then replayed the video in slow motion. Damn... you're right. His smile widened. You really are a smart barbarian.

  And you're a foolish noble.

  The bedroom door burst open, and Alma stood there, wearing a silk nightgown the color of emerald, her face a mask of aristocratic fury. she said in an icy voice I don't believe this, . This rude person is still here?

  Dio looked at Cairo, then at Alma, and said coldly, How rude of this house, to kick out their guest in the middle of the night. He got to his feet and brushed the chip crumbs off his clothes. Don't worry, Cairo, I'll leave.

  Wait! Cairo said, but Dio had already walked out.

  Dio walked through the silent, luxurious corridors of the mansion, feeling that he did not belong in this place, just as he did not belong in his own empty mansion. As he passed a balcony overlooking the moonlit garden, he caught a glimpse of her. His mother, Maria, was standing there, an elegant and quiet silhouette, looking up at the sky.

  Their gazes met through the glass for a fleeting moment, a moment that held neither warmth nor hatred, just a cold emptiness like the space between the stars. Dio was the first to look away and continued on his way to the exit.

  He found his old flying car waiting at the main entrance. But the driver's seat was not empty. Leonardo was asleep, his head tilted against the window, his intricate tattoos looking like mysterious maps in the dim light. Dio knocked on the glass.

  Leonardo jumped as if he had been struck by lightning. Yes, yes, sir! he awoke with a start, and shot out of the car with lightning speed, moving to open the back door for Dio with a professional motion as if he were a personal servant born in a mansion.

  But as he moved, Dio noticed something. Under his open jacket, Leonardo was wearing pink pajamas, decorated with drawings of small, clumsy bears.

  Dio opened the door himself and got in. To the car, trying to ignore the surreal image of his large, tattooed driver wearing children's pajamas.

  The return journey through the dark forest was silent. A comfortable silence, for the first time in Dio life. A silence that carried no weight of judgment or disappointment.

  When they finally arrived at the abandoned mansion, darkness enveloped it like a shroud. At the entrance, Eva was waiting, her arms crossed over her chest, her face a storm about to break.

  Finally! she shouted as soon as Dio got out of the car, completely ignoring him and directing all her anger at her brother. Do you know what time it is, Leonardo?! You left me worried all night! What if something had happened to you with this delinquent brat?!

  Eva, calm down,Leonardo said as he got out of the car. We were studying.

  Studying?! Eva laughed sarcastically. Yes, of course. Studying how to empty wine bottles! Then she turned to Dio, who had started to climb the stairs. And you!

  Dio stopped and looked at her.

  Sir, she said with suppressed anger.You have kept my brother awake all night. I hope you enjoyed yourself.

  Dio said coldly, Eva, prepare a bath for me.

  Bathe in your parents' house! she exploded. If I wasn't worried about my brother, I would have been asleep for hours! Prepare your own bath! She turned and pulled Leonardo by the hand. Come on, inside. You need to sleep.

  Dio remained standing alone on the stairs, watching the siblings disappear into the darkness of the mansion. He sighed, feeling a pang of sharp loneliness. I miss you, Mia...he whispered into the void. "These people... are frightening."

  Two months passed. Two months that turned into a new and strange rhythm in Dio life. Cairo spent most of his days at the mansion, transforming the silent library into a chaotic workshop of endless discussions.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  It's a hybrid! Cairo shouted one day, slamming his fist on an open page of a book that explained the magic of reality manipulation.

  I'm sure of it! Energy manipulation doesn't mean creating it from nothing. It means taking existing energy and changing its nature! The Magical Swordsman is not a sorcerer, and not an artisan. He is something in between! Something that shouldn't exist!

  Dio sat opposite him, studying the complex illustrations in the book. This explains why artisans can't use magic directly, he said with analytical calm. Their soul gates are designed to pour energy into an external material.

  And sorcerers can't use tools, because their gates are designed to pour energy into themselves. But this... this suggests a third way. A way that bypasses the gate entirely.

  Their days were filled with these discoveries. And their nights were filled with chaos.

  Cairo would bring strange video games and fast food that Dio had never seen in his life, and he would force Eva to watch silly romantic movies with them, which she pretended to hate but Dio noticed she would wipe away a hidden tear during the sad scenes. Even Leonardo would sometimes join them, silent as always, but Dio saw him smile as he watched his sister laugh.

  For the first time, the mansion was not empty.

  In the middle of one night, Dio woke up suddenly, his breath ragged and his heart pounding violently in his chest. There were no nightmares about his mother or the video scandal, but there was another dream, a dream that was calm and terrifying in its simplicity.

  The dream. It was clear. He saw himself holding a sword he had never seen before, its blade black and glowing with a faint light. And before him, there was a black line extending into the void. And with an impossible smoothness, with a movement that required no effort, he cut that line.

  There was no sound, no resistance. Just a feeling of quiet perfection, and a clean cut. He woke up still feeling that instinctive certainty in his hands, and a feeling of both power and fear warring within him.

  He couldn't go back to sleep. He got out of bed and walked through the dark corridors of his mansion. Every faded painting and every cold marble statue reminded him of the loneliness that had been his constant companion. There was nowhere to go but his only sanctuary.

  The library was as silent as a tomb, and the smell of old paper and leather was the only comfort for his troubled soul. He sat at his usual table and opened a random book, but the words were just black spots on the page. His mind was elsewhere, stuck in that dream, in that sensation of the perfect cut.

  Crack!

  The sound was sharp and violent. Something had hit the thick glass window on the upper floor of the library. Dio leaped to his feet, crept through the shadows, and climbed the wooden staircase, which creaked softly with every step.

  There, on the wooden floor, was a small black bird, its wings strangely broken, dying amidst the shards of glass. The storm raging outside had shattered the window and thrown it inside.

  My god, you poor thing, Dio whispered to himself, echoing words he had heard before, and he felt a strange pang of pity.

  But he saw something else. Something tied to its leg. He knelt beside the bird as it took its last breath and untied the small message, wet with the bird's blood and rainwater.

  He opened it. The paper was bloodstained, and the words were written in a frantic, trembling hand.

  Maria is in danger. They are coming.

  Damn it! Damn it! Leonardo!

  Dio was running through the corridors like a madman, pounding his fist on Leonardo's bedroom door. Moments later, the door opened, and Leonardo appeared, rubbing his eyes, wearing the same pink pajamas adorned with bears. Sir? Is everything alright?

  Nothing is alright! To the de Foix mansion! Now!

  As they were running towards the exit, Eva came out of her room, her hair disheveled. Young Master?! Where are you taking my brother in this storm?!

  Get out of my way, woman! Dio shouted, and this time, there was a sharpness and a power in his voice she had never heard before, a sharpness born from the womb of real fear. Leonardo, to the car!

  The car shot off like an arrow through the dark forest, its headlights cutting through the thick curtain of rain. Dio finally reached the de Foix family mansion. It was completely dark and eerily silent. The main gates were wide open, groaning with every gust of wind.

  Wait here, Dio told Leonardo, and got out of the car.

  He stormed the mansion, his heart pounding violently in his chest. Maria! he shouted, his echo reverberating in the empty hall. "Mother!"

  No response.

  He saw the bodies of the guards lying in the corridors, their blood painting dark stains on the luxurious carpets. This wasn't an attack; it was a massacre. Fear and desperation drove him. He ran to the main reception room and saw an old sword displayed as a masterpiece hanging above the fireplace.

  He didn't think. He jumped over a sofa, grabbed it, and felt its strange, heavy weight in his hand. he whispered to himself Just in case .

  ...He heard a sound. It wasn't a clear scream, but a muffled sound, the sound of a desperate struggle coming from the guest room.

  He rushed to the door and threw it open with force.

  The scene he saw froze the blood in his veins.

  Alma was lying on the cold marble floor, her silk robe torn, desperately resisting under the body of the huge, masked man who was pinning her down with one arm, while his other hand was tearing away the rest of her clothes. His shiny, high-tech dagger was lying on the floor beside them, as if he had finished with the threats and had already begun.

  There was no time for words.

  The moment the masked man saw Dio at the door, he didn't hesitate. He didn't ask, he didn't threaten. He made his decision in a fraction of a second. He considered Dio just a final nuisance to be removed before he could complete his desire.

  Without warning, he raised his free hand, and a massive fireball exploded from it, shooting off like a flaming projectile directly at Dio face.

  Time slowed down.

  Everything became incredibly quiet and clear. Dio saw the fireball approaching, and he saw the pure terror and despair in Alma's eyes. He didn't feel fear, but something else. An absolute calm, an instinctive certainty.

  Cut.

  The sound came from within him, not as a thought, but as a command from the universe itself.

  He didn't think. He responded.

  He raised the sword, not with his muscular strength, but with the force of his will. He felt that strange energy flow through him from the air, from the stones, from the fear in the room, and concentrate in the blade. The sword moved in a vertical arc, simple and perfect.

  The fireball split into two perfectly identical halves and exploded on the walls behind Dio without touching him. The sword completed its motion, passed through the masked man's body as if cutting through air, and divided him in two from head to toe.

  Time returned to its normal speed.

  The two bisected halves of the masked man fell to the floor with a wet, disgusting sound.

  Dio stood in the middle of the room, panting, the heavy sword dripping with a viscous black blood. He looked at his hands, then at the sword, then at the bisected corpse on the floor.

  He didn't understand. He didn't know how he had done it. In that moment, the Magical Swordsman was born. And his birth was violent, bloody, and terrifying.