Michael didn’t spend much time in Aurora.
That had been the case for a while now—especially throughout the tournament process.
It wasn’t yet time for him to shift his full focus back to Aurora. That moment would come soon, very soon... but not just yet.
Right now, Michael’s main goal was to tie up a few loose ends in the land of origin.
Upon returning to the Land of Origin, he resumed meditating, after once again trying to probe deeper into his talent—seeking something new.
As usual, he found nothing.
It didn’t bother him much.
He was just testing his luck, as always.
The next day arrive quick and a visitor came to Michael residence.
It was a familiar face.
It was the middle aged man that had a hand in officiating the duke’s tournament.
The man sat in silence, his brows slightly furrowed as he glanced around the interior with visible confusion.
The house was modest—but neat. Polished wood floors, clean furniture, and a faint herbal fragrance in the air that suggested someone had aired it out that morning. It was all... normal.
Especially for someone like him.
The neighborhood itself wasn’t run-down either. In fact, it was one of the cleaner districts in the outer city. But that was precisely the problem.
This was the outer city.
At first, when Michael had casually given him his address the previous day, the official hadn’t thought much of it. The name of the street had sounded unfamiliar, but he had simply assumed it was some quiet part of the inner city he hadn’t personally visited.
Yet here he was—clearly standing in the outer district.
And not just on the edge either. This was deep enough that even the guards had paused upon arrival, double-checking the location to make sure they hadn’t gotten lost.
"Strange..." the official thought, eyes drifting around. Wasn’t this boy a noble’s son?
So why was he living here?
Before the man could dwell too long on the oddity, a faint thump echoed down the stairs, followed by the soft shuffle of footsteps.
Michael descended the stairs, now dressed in fresh, clean robes. His black hair was slightly damp from a recent shower, and there was a casual ease in his step as he reached the final step.
Behind the official, two armored guards stiffened instinctively—but not out of fear. It was respect. Michael didn’t give off the aura of someone trying to be imposing, but to anyone with half a sense, his presence was dense.
Also present were two others.
Lia and Ace stood in the hallway, both of them looking up at Michael with thinly veiled concern.
Michael scanned the group quickly, then raised a brow. "You’re here early."
The official offered a polite bow as he stood up. "Apologies for the sudden visit. I thought it best to speak with you before the day’s obligations consumed your time."
Michael walked to the sitting room and gestured. "Then speak freely. You’ve come this far."
The official hesitated, then followed, removing his gloves and tucking them neatly into his belt.
"Before that..." the man said slowly, unable to suppress his curiosity. "Forgive me for asking, but... do you truly reside here?"
Michael’s brow rose. "Should I not?"
"It’s just..." The man cleared his throat, slightly embarrassed. "Given your l standing, I simply assumed you were from a noble family."
Michael offered a half-smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "And what if I told you I wasn’t?"
The official blinked. "Surely, you jest."
Michael’s smile faded.
"What brought you here?"
The official straightened slightly, all formality returning to his tone. "I’ve come to talk about your reward."
Michael’s gaze sharpened as his heart quicked. .
"Please follow me to our carriage outside, Sir Mic."
Michael didn’t respond immediately.
Instead, he gave Lia and Ace a quick glance—an unspoken signal to stay behind and hold the house down.
Then Michael turned and stepped out the door.
What greeted him made him pause.
Parked along the quiet street was a grand carriage—far too grand for the neighborhood it currently sat in.
The structure was massive, easily large enough to accommodate six grown men within, and built from a shimmering darkwood that reflected a soft silver sheen beneath the morning sun. Gilded trims ran along its frame in tasteful arcs, while glowing runes hummed faintly along its chassis—likely enchantments for mobility and defense.
But it wasn’t just the carriage that drew attention.
It was the steed pulling it.
No... calling it a steed felt like an understatement.
The beast was enormous—taller than most warhorses, its dark coat glistening with a sheen that almost resembled scales. Its eyes were a deep gold, intelligent and aware, and its legs were thicker than a tree trunk, ending in talons instead of hooves.
Michael’s gaze lingered for a moment.
"...Monster bloodline," he muttered.
It was subtle—but there was no mistaking it. Whatever creature this was, it wasn’t wholly natural.
The guards near the carriage stood straight, armor polished to a mirror shine, weapons at their sides.
When they spotted Michael, they gave short bows in sync.
The middle-aged official caught up behind him and gestured toward the open carriage door.
"Looks beautiful, right?," he said, a note of pride in his voice.
Michael stared at the carriage a second longer, then stepped forward.
The official followed quickly after, and the guards closed the door behind them with a soft thud.
Outside, neighbors peeked from behind curtains and gates, some clutching their mouths in shock. Others whispered in hushed tones, unsure if what they were seeing was real.
Inside the carriage, the air changed.
Michael immediately noticed the shift the moment the doors closed.
It wasn’t just the soundproofing—though that was excellent. It was the ambience.
A subtle coolness lingered in the air, maintained by silent enchantments woven into the ceiling above.
Gentle golden lights glowed from the corners of the carriage, casting a soft illumination that gave the interior a warm, welcoming feel. Not too bright, not too dim. Just right.
For a moment, Michael saw something he might actually spend money on in this land.