Ascension of the Forsaken Genius

The air inside the grand banquet hall carried a weight that went beyond mere formality. Beneath the polished smiles and carefully crafted pleasantries, tension coiled like a serpent ready to strike. Every move, every whispered word, was part of a silent war fought with glances and veiled intentions.

Seated at the far end of the banquet, Sylas Aldreth observed it all.

The hall was a masterpiece of imperial grandeur—ornate pillars of black marble, chandeliers crafted from refined mana crystals, and banners bearing the sigils of the four ducal houses draped high above. A fitting battlefield for the powerful.

At the center, the highest-ranking nobles conversed in tight circles, their voices measured but filled with hidden meaning. Dukes, marquises, and counts engaged in a delicate dance of power, while their heirs carefully maneuvered around them, watching, learning.

Sylas remained still, his expression unreadable. He had no place among them—not truly.

His father had seen to that.

A deep, commanding voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“You will not get involved.”

Sylas turned his gaze to the man seated beside him—Duke Varian Aldreth.

The Duke’s presence was a force of its own, his regal bearing casting a long shadow over the table. His dark hair, streaked with age, reflected the warm glow of the chandeliers, but his amber eyes were sharp, piercing. The kind of gaze that could strip a man of his illusions and leave nothing but the truth.

Sylas met that gaze, his face betraying nothing.

“Understood.”

A simple response. The only response that was safe.

Satisfied, Duke Varian returned his attention to the banquet, sipping from his goblet of fine emberwine.

Sylas, however, lowered his gaze to his own untouched drink, his thoughts elsewhere.

Do not get involved?

Did he truly believe I had any intention of stepping into this farce?

His father’s command was unnecessary. He was already forbidden from competing in the Grand Selection. He had no stake in tonight’s political maneuvering.

And yet, he watched.

Because while he could not act, he could learn.

Across the hall, the heirs of the four ducal houses held court among their peers.

Lucien Valecourt stood at the heart of a gathering of young nobles, his striking silver hair gleaming under the golden light. The Valecourt heir, with his sharp features and easy smirk, carried himself with an effortless confidence.

Sylas’s gaze lingered on him for a moment longer. Lightning energy coursed through his veins, his control over it near instinctual. Fast. Precise. Deadly.

Not far from him, Seraphina Ravencroft moved through the hall like a whisper, her every step deliberate, her dark attire blending into the shadows. The Ravencroft heir, veiled in mystery, carried the air of one who knew more than she let on. It was said her mastery of shadow energy allowed her to see what others wished to hide.

At the banquet table, Cassandra Emberlane leaned back in her chair, amusement dancing in her scarlet eyes. The Emberlane heiress, known for her fiery temperament, bore an uncanny resemblance to the flames she wielded. Where Lucien was refined and Seraphina was subtle, Cassandra was blunt force made flesh.

Each of them a force in their own right.

Each of them expected to dominate the upcoming Grand Selection.

And he—Sylas Aldreth, the quiet observer—was not even allowed to stand among them.

"Strange, isn't it?"

Sylas blinked, pulling his gaze away from the ducal heirs to find Lucien Valecourt standing before him, a smirk playing at his lips.

"I would have thought a son of House Aldreth would be more... engaged in tonight’s affairs," Lucien mused, swirling the emberwine in his glass. "And yet, you sit here, silent. Watching."

Sylas held his gaze, saying nothing.

Lucien chuckled. "You see more than most, don’t you?" He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. "A dangerous habit, that."

Before Sylas could respond, a clear, authoritative voice rang through the hall.

A Court Official stepped forward, bowing deeply before addressing the assembly.

“His Majesty has one final declaration.”

Silence fell over the hall as all eyes turned to the high table.

Seated upon an ornate throne of celestial steel, king Hadrian Ardentia surveyed his court with a gaze like molten gold. An aura of absolute authority radiated from him, the weight of his presence pressing down upon all who dared meet his eyes.

“The Grand Selection will begin in one month.” His voice carried across the hall, each word spoken with deliberate precision. “However, before that, a preliminary challenge will be held in one week.”

A stunned silence followed.

Then, murmurs erupted.

"A preliminary challenge?" one noble whispered.

"This is unprecedented," another murmured.

The king raised a hand, and the room fell silent once more.

"Only those who pass will have the right to enter the Grand Selection."

The impact of his words settled like a thunderclap.

A test before the test. A brutal filter that would separate the truly capable from the merely privileged.

For many, this announcement was a blessing—a chance to eliminate their competition before the real battle began.

For others, it was a death sentence.

Sylas sat motionless, absorbing the implications.

This changes nothing.

I was already forbidden from competing.

But for them...

His gaze flickered back to the ducal heirs.

Lucien Valecourt’s smirk remained, but his fingers tightened slightly around his goblet.

Seraphina Ravencroft’s expression was unreadable, her mind already working through the consequences.

Cassandra Emberlane’s grin widened, her crimson eyes gleaming with unrestrained excitement.

They understood what this meant.

And in one week, they would face their first trial.

As the banquet continued, the hall filled with conversations of shifting alliances and speculation. Nobles spoke in hushed voices, already scheming for what lay ahead.

Sylas remained silent.@@novelbin@@

His father had forbidden him from competing.

He had no place in the trials.

But this world did not yet understand the value of Pure Energy.

One day, they would.

One day, they would regret underestimating him.

And when that day came...

He would not be watching from the sidelines.