(Eric POV )

The morning air inside the Academy's corridors was brisk, filled with the chatter of students rushing to their respective classrooms.

For once, Eric William walked with dignity. His long stride, his sharp uniform pressed to perfection, his hair gleaming like polished obsidian—it was the look of a young noble who wanted the entire world to remember his bloodline.

Today, I'll make sure everyone knows I am the heir of the William Family. The greatest family in the continent.

He reached for the tall double doors of Class A's hall, smirking already at the thought of entering. He imagined Michael looking bored, Leon laughing too loudly, and the rest of his classmates gawking at him when he sat down with the poise only a William could possess.

And then—

"{Attention. Student Eric William, you have a visitor. Please proceed to Room Twenty-Three.}"

The Academy's announcement system rang out clearly, echoing down the corridor.

Eric froze mid-step. His hand hovered just above the brass handle of the classroom door. For a moment, his brain failed to process the words.

…A visitor? For me? At this hour?

There was only one possibility. His stomach sank.

"…Mother."

The word slipped out like a curse.

His mother, Somiya Veylan William, was a force of nature. A beauty adored by nobles, a mage of frightening talent, but to Eric? She was the single most dangerous threat to his image. She never visited without making a scene, never spoke without smothering him with affection, and never once treated him like the proud heir of the number one family.

If she appeared now, in the middle of the Academy…

Eric's imagination immediately betrayed him.

---

In his mind's theater, he saw Michael leaning back in his chair, sneering.

"Ha ha ha! The great heir of the William Family, reduced to a baby in front of his mommy!"

Leon followed, slapping his knee with laughter.

"Number three, so cute! Does he need his bib and cradle too?"

Both of them laughed, their voices echoing endlessly, stabbing at Eric's pride.

"Ha ha ha ha ha!"

---

"—Tch!" Eric clenched his teeth, his entire body twitching as if he'd been struck by a lightning spell.

"No. No, I won't let those bastards laugh at me. Never."

He adjusted his collar, straightened his shoulders, and forced his face back into noble arrogance. Inside, though, his heart was hammering.

Please don't let it be Mother. Please. Anyone but Mother.

With stiff dignity, he turned and made his way toward Room 23, each step echoing like the march of a condemned man.

---

Room 23 was one of the Academy's private reception chambers, reserved for high-profile visitors.

The door was polished oak, the brass handle gleamed, and faint enchantments shimmered in the frame.

Eric pushed it open, bracing himself for what he feared most.

"Mother, please, not here, not in front of everyone—"

But the room was empty.

No beautiful woman in an elaborate gown rushing forward with open arms.

No suffocating perfume.

No voice calling him "my sweet little Eriky."

Eric blinked, scanning the sofas, the tea table, the curtains. Silence.

"…Huh?"

A voice came from behind him. Deep, calm, resonant through the rooms.

"Young Master. How are your days at the Academy?"

Eric whipped around.

Standing in the doorway was an old man in a butler's uniform. His back was straight as a spear, his silver hair combed neatly, his eyes sharp as a hawk's despite his looks of a Seventh year old man.

As Eric looks at him a small smile appears in his arrogant face because aside from his mother he spent his childhood with his family butler.

"Grandpa Gideon…!"

Relief burst through Eric like sunlight breaking storm clouds. His lips curled into a smile he rarely showed.

"Thank god, not Mother—" he whispered under his breath.

But then he froze.

Because the old man's ears twitched ever so slightly. His sharp gaze fixed on Eric, amusement gleaming.

"Did the young master just admit he fears my Lady's affection?"

Eric's heart skipped a beat.

Shit—he heard that?!

Of course he had. Gideon Chronic wasn't just any butler. He was S-rank.

Eric tried to recover, raising his chin arrogantly. "O-of course not! You must have misheard, Grandpa Gideon!"

Gideon only chuckled softly, stepping fully into the room. The air seemed to grow heavier with his presence. Even without releasing an ounce of killing intent, the weight of his existence pressed upon the chamber. He looks like a professional Butler .

Narration slipped into Eric's mind, unbidden.

'Gideon Chronic. Age… over one hundred thirty. Subordinate of my grandfather who is an SSS ranker, Gideon has been serving the William Family for nearly a century. An S-rank hunter whose name was whispered with respect in royal courts, also after my father and mother they the highest Authority within the family even my father respects him.'

Hunters who reached S-rank broke through human limitations. Their lifespans extended far beyond the eighty years of ordinary men. Two hundred and more was not uncommon. Grandpa Gideon had at least another five or six decades left in him.

But to me, he wasn't just a servant. He was a teacher, mentor, protector and sometimes even the only sane voice in the estate.

He remembered being much younger, running barefoot across the sprawling William estate, chasing after butterflies in the gardens while Grandpa Gideon laughed softly behind him. Gideon wasn't just a butler then; to Eric, he was a guardian, a teacher, and sometimes even a playmate. He would hoist the boy onto his shoulders, pointing out the horizon.

"One day, Young Master,"

Gideon had said, voice carrying both pride and prophecy,

"your path will stretch far beyond these lands. And when that day comes, your feet must be firm, your sword steady, and your heart unshakable."

Eric had not understood then. But everything changed the day of his Awakening Ceremony.

He had felt the surge of light fill his veins, a radiance so pure it made the elders of the family gasp. When the golden glyphs carved themselves into his soul, marking him as a Holy Knight, the entire estate erupted in celebration.

The William Family's bloodline had always favored Light Affinity, but most heirs awakened simple knightly or martial classes. To awaken the Holy Knight was something else entirely.

In fact, in the long, illustrious history of their family, only two before him had done so.

The first was the First Hero himself, whose name was etched into every legend and song. He had borne both Light and Earth affinities, and with those gifts he stood at the forefront of humanity's survival, slaying the first Demon King ten thousand years ago.

The second was Eric's late great-uncle—Silars William. A man hailed as a genius who, by the age of twenty-eight, had already reached S-Rank. He was a blazing sun in his era, said to be the "second coming" of the Hero himself.

But genius was often envied, and light attracted shadows.

Eric remembered the story all too well, Gideon had told it to him many times, his voice grave. Silars had been stationed at the frontlines when a Demon Prince descended with an army.

His grandfather and great-grandfather, Alen William, both rushed to face the main force in the frontline. In their absence, Silars was ambushed.

Not only by demons, but by betrayal.

A human, a demon worshiper hiding in the ranks, turned on him, striking the fatal blow using SSS rank Demon Artifact.

Also summoned Demon Assassin of S rank and then they surrounded him , cut off, Silars fought with divine radiance until his final breath. He was only thirty-one when he fell, his body never recovered.

That day marked a wound in the William Family that never healed. From then on, their enmity toward demons and their worshipers became more than duty; it was personal. A vendetta carved into blood.

Eric inhaled sharply, chest rising with both pride and pressure. The third Holy Knight. That was who he was. The heir. The prodigy. The hope of his bloodline.

But unlike the First Hero, unlike Silars, his affinities were Light and Wind.

Wind—his mother's gift. She often told him it symbolized freedom, the ability to cut through chains, to soar without restraint. Yet sometimes, Eric felt it mocked him. Freedom? When his very life was being dictated by his family's ambitions?

His goal, his dream, had always been to rise like his grandfather Kyrain William, who had reached SSS-Rank and become known as the Light Knight. That was the standard set before him, the summit he was expected to climb.

Gideon had been the one to first put a sword in his hand, guiding his stance, correcting his grip with gentle patience. And when Eric's light mana first flared around his blade, Gideon had smiled not the butler's formal smile, but the proud grin of a grandfather.

"You carry their will," he had said. "But do not forget you also carry your own."

Now, standing in this suffocating private room.

Eric's stern mask cracked into genuine warmth. He walked forward quickly, bowing slightly before straightening.

"No, Grandpa Gideon. I'm happy to see you."

The old butler's eyes softened, his lips curling into a faint smile.

( To be Continue)

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