The Marquis Ventor watched the conclusion of the fight with unblinking intensity, his wineglass untouched as the echoes of the arena roared in his ears. He leaned forward slightly in his seat, his sharp eyes locked on Lucavion, who stood in the center of the battlefield, his presence a mixture of quiet calm and overwhelming dominance. The young swordsman didn’t bask in the glory or look to the crowd for adulation—his victory spoke for itself.
Ventor exhaled slowly, setting his glass down with deliberate care. His lips curved into a faint smile, but his eyes betrayed the depth of his thoughts.
This kid… no, this young man…
The power, precision, and sheer audacity Lucavion had displayed in dismantling Joel’s
Infernal Cataclysm
left no doubt in the Marquis’s mind. This wasn’t just talent—this was the kind of raw, undeniable brilliance that came along once in a generation, perhaps even less. His earlier skepticism about Lucavion, born of the young man’s provocative nature and his public taunts toward the Cloud Heavens Sect, now seemed almost laughable.
I hesitated too long,
Ventor thought, shaking his head.
A fool’s mistake.
Initially, the Marquis had held back, wary of Lucavion’s antics and the potential fallout of backing someone who had openly antagonized a powerful sect. It was risky to align with such a figure, especially when the tournament had already been steeped in tension between the sects. But now, watching this young man carve through an elite disciple like Joel Rythan with an ease that bordered on mockery, Ventor knew hesitation was no longer an option.
“This talent… it cannot be missed,” Ventor murmured to himself, his voice barely audible over the cheering crowd. His decision crystallized as he rose from his seat, his expression composed but his gaze sharper than ever.
He turned to his attendant, who had been standing dutifully nearby, observing the Marquis’s reactions throughout the fight. “You,” Ventor said, his tone brisk but laden with authority. The attendant straightened immediately, awaiting his orders.
“Find him,” Ventor commanded, his voice low but firm. “Lucavion. Extend an offer—no, a personal invitation to meet with me. I want him brought to my estate after the tournament.”
As the arena’s uproar continued, Marquis Ventor sat back down, his mind already planning his next move. It wasn’t enough to simply summon Lucavion to his estate; this young man was sharp, perceptive, and undoubtedly wary of those who might seek to use him. The Marquis would have to approach with delicacy, offering not intimidation, but opportunity—hospitality paired with undeniable benefits.
If I try to force his hand, he’ll slip away. He’s not the type to bow to pressure,
Ventor thought, his fingers tapping lightly on the armrest of his chair.
No, this requires finesse. Let him feel welcomed, respected. Let him see what aligning with me could offer.
His attendant returned swiftly, his steps measured but purposeful. “Marquis, the arrangements have been made. A messenger will deliver your invitation personally. Lucavion will be informed discreetly once his match concludes.”
Ventor nodded, his gaze still fixed on the now-empty arena. “Good. Ensure the invitation is formal but inviting. Emphasize that this is a gesture of respect, not a demand.”
“Yes, Marquis,” the attendant said with a bow.
“And,” Ventor added, his tone sharpening, “have the estate prepared. The finest accommodations, food, and drink. Spare no expense. I want him to see the full extent of what I can offer.”
The attendant hesitated for only a moment. “And if he declines, my lord?”
Ventor’s lips curved into a faint, calculating smile. “He won’t. Not after today’s performance. Talent like his… it’s drawn to opportunity, to influence. I will ensure he sees me not as a threat, but as a benefactor.”
The Marquis rose from his seat, adjusting his cloak as he glanced toward the attendants still stationed in the private lounge. “Make it clear that he is a guest of honor. Treat him with the same respect you would afford me.”
******
Later that evening, as the tournament matches concluded, Lucavion found himself approached by a well-dressed messenger. The man bowed respectfully before handing him a finely crafted scroll sealed with the sigil of House Ventor.
“Sir Lucavion,” the messenger said, his tone warm and polite, “the Marquis extends his personal invitation to you. He wishes to discuss matters of mutual interest and has prepared a welcome for you at his estate.”
Lucavion accepted the scroll, his expression calm but his eyes sharp as he studied the messenger. “Mutual interest, you say? That’s vague. Care to elaborate?”
The messenger offered a practiced smile. “The Marquis believes in recognizing exceptional talent. He admires your performance today and wishes to explore how he might support your endeavors. You will find the details within the invitation.”
Lucavion’s smirk flickered as he broke the seal and skimmed the scroll. It was as the messenger had said—a formal yet inviting request for an audience, with an emphasis on partnership and opportunity. No threats, no veiled demands—just respect wrapped in careful diplomacy.
He handed the scroll back to the messenger. “Tell your Marquis I’ll think about it.”
The messenger bowed again, his demeanor unchanged. “Of course. Should you accept, the estate will be ready to welcome you at any time.”
As the messenger departed, Lucavion glanced over to where Valeria stood nearby, watching the interaction with a raised brow. “Looks like someone’s caught the Marquis’s eye,” she remarked, her tone teasing but curious.
Lucavion chuckled, tucking the scroll into his cloak. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”
After all, being in this world for a long time, he had already understood the laws of the world. That is why he already knew that Marquis would send an invitation like this.
Lucavion leaned back against the wall of the preparation room corridor, turning the scroll over in his hands as his thoughts drifted inward. The Marquis Ventor, a figure he barely recalled from the novel—mentioned only in passing—had sent him a personal invitation. It wasn’t surprising, not after today’s fight, but the implications carried weight.
‘The Marquis,’ he thought, his eyes narrowing slightly as he glanced at the seal. ‘Someone with barely any role in the original story. A name on the sidelines was mentioned just enough to remind the reader that Andelheim’s politics existed but was never significant enough to matter. Yet here he is, extending this invitation.’
Lucavion’s smirk flickered briefly, but his expression remained contemplative. This wasn’t just an invitation. It was a statement.
By sending this letter, the Marquis had done more than acknowledge Lucavion’s talent—he had weighed him against the Cloud Heavens Sect and found Lucavion of greater interest. For a figure of Ventor’s stature, this wasn’t a casual gesture. The fact that the Marquis didn’t fear retaliation from the sect for aligning with someone who had openly antagonized them spoke volumes. It meant Ventor saw potential in him that outweighed the risks, a gamble that Lucavion found both bold and intriguing.
‘So, you’re willing to take my side, even after I provoked one of the most influential sects in the Empire,’
Lucavion mused, tucking the scroll into his cloak.
‘That’s not just recognition. That’s defiance. He’s already drawn a line without even saying it outright.’
After all, it appeared that his efforts to undermine the Cloud Heavens Sect’s reputation seemed to be working just as he had intended.
‘Soon, you will all lose your prestige.’
They were people who were like a virus in this world, and that is why they needed to be removed.
And for that cause, he was not going to stop for a long time.
As Lucavion tucked the scroll into his cloak, Valeria stepped closer, her gaze steady but curious. She crossed her arms, tilting her head slightly as she regarded him. “So,” she began, her voice even, “are you planning to join the Marquis? It seems… unlike you.”
Lucavion chuckled softly, leaning back against the stone wall with his characteristic nonchalance. “Join?” he repeated as if amused by the choice of word. He met her gaze, the glint of amusement never leaving his eyes. “For someone of a Marquis’s caliber, I don’t have much choice, do I? At the very least, I need to show some respect. Not all influential people are like the Cloud Heavens Sect.”
Valeria’s brow furrowed briefly, then she nodded, her expression thoughtful. “That’s true,” she said slowly. “Not everyone wields their power so… carelessly.” But inwardly, she couldn’t shake the strange feeling creeping over her.
‘He’s already being courted by someone like Ventor.’
The thought sat uneasily in her mind.
‘Lucavion, the reckless swordsman who bribes his way through lines and acts like nothing’s a big deal… already gaining recognition at this level?’
Her gaze flicked to him again, studying his relaxed posture, his faint smirk as if nothing truly fazed him. But there was something else beneath his casual demeanor, something sharp and deliberate that she’d seen flashes of during his fights.
‘It’s not just luck or bravado, is it? He’s calculated, even when he pretends not to be. That’s why he’s here. That’s why people like the Marquis see his value. Still… it’s strange to think of him being in this position.’
Lucavion noticed her silence and raised an eyebrow. “What? Surprised?” he teased lightly, his smirk widening. “Don’t tell me you thought I’d go unnoticed forever.”
Valeria huffed softly, a faint glimmer of amusement breaking through her contemplative expression. “Not unnoticed, no. But… this,” she gestured vaguely toward his cloak, where the scroll was tucked away, “it’s happening faster than I expected.”
Lucavion shrugged, his tone casual. “The world moves fast when you make it.” He straightened slightly, his gaze briefly serious. “Besides, recognition like this isn’t about me. It’s about what I’ve done, who I’ve crossed. People like Ventor—they don’t just look for talent. They look for pieces to move on their board.”
Valeria tilted her head, watching him carefully. “And are you planning to be one of those pieces?”
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His smirk softened, a hint of something more genuine in his expression. “Depends. Sometimes being a piece is the best way to flip the whole board.”
Her lips quirked into a small, reluctant smile. “That sounds like you.”
Lucavion chuckled, pushing off the wall and turning toward the corridor leading out of the preparation room. “Get used to it, Olarion. The world’s going to see a lot more of me soon.”
