Reincarnated with SSS-Rank Trait and Unique Ability-Chapter 8: Royal Visit

Standing beneath the large tree atop the hill where he had once trained with his father, a young boy stood motionless. His eyes were closed, basking in the warm surge of power as his core ranked up.

Nearly four years had passed since his first training session with Nicholas.

In that time, Ares had thrown himself into relentless training—swordsmanship under Nicholas, and mana manipulation under the watchful eye of his grandfather.

The schedule was brutal.

While manipulating mana came naturally—perhaps due to his young body paired with an adult mind—sword training was another beast entirely. Every swing, every block demanded focus, discipline, and stamina he hadn't known he possessed. But the struggle had paid off. He hadn't just learned the basics—he'd mastered them. And with the addition of mana augmentation, unlocked shortly after reaching the third stage of the Novice Rank, he had even begun deflecting some of Nicholas's strikes—much to the young soldier's surprise.

Nicholas hadn't been idle either. He had recently ascended to the Expert Rank—an extraordinary feat at his age. Royal messengers had come calling with summons to the palace, but he had ignored them all.

Some of the messengers resorted to threats, but none had the strength—or authority—to force the young soldier's hand. He was an Expert Rank now, and no ordinary envoy could bend his will.

Now, at just twelve years old, Ares had reached a milestone he'd once only dreamed of.

He opened his eyes and stared at the glowing status window in front of him. His face remained calm, but his heart thundered in his chest.

*****

Name: [ Ares ]

Race: [ Human ]

Rank: [ Intermediate I ]

Soul Weapon: [ Father's Will ]

Unique Trait: [ Limit Breaker, Rank: SSS ]

Trait Description: [ You can possess more than one Soul Weapon. ]

Unique Ability: [ Soul Thief, Rank: SSS ]

Ability Description: [ You can extract Soul Weapons from fallen foes. ]

Elemental Affinity: [ — ]

*****

"Intermediate I," Ares whispered, letting the words hang in the air.

With this, even entering Lotius Academy would be a breeze. Most students joined at the second stage of Novice Rank. Lotius, considered one of the finest academies in the kingdom, only accepted those at the third stage or higher.

But that dream... it no longer mattered.

His path had changed.

He didn't need safe classrooms or dusty books.

He needed strength—the kind no academy could offer.

Because the fire that now burned in his chest wasn't curiosity or ambition—it was vengeance.

Vengeance for his father.

Ares exhaled deeply. But his thoughts didn't get far. A sudden commotion from the village caught his attention.

He descended the hill quickly, heading toward the source of the gathering crowd.

With the village being so small, it didn't take long to see what had everyone so riled up.

Three caravans had stopped just south of the village. They were made of white wood and adorned with golden ornaments—like something out of a storybook.

Soldiers surrounded them in tight formation, some on foot, others mounted on horseback. The air around the scene was tense.

"What the hell is going on?" Ares muttered under his breath, eyes narrowed at the unusual sight.

As he got closer, one of the caravan doors snapped open.

Out stepped a boy, only a few years older than Ares. The moment his feet touched the ground, every soldier bowed deeply. Only one remained upright—a man clad in ornate armour, clearly some kind of commander.

"We're here, Your Majesty," the decorated soldier said, head bowed low.

"What's with the crowd? I thought we were arriving unannounced," the boy replied coolly.

"You see, Your Majesty, this is a very small village. It's not every day royal caravans show up uninvited."

The prince gave a curt nod, then turned to face the gathering villagers.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, a voice behind Ares snapped his attention away.

"The prince."

Ares turned to find Nicholas standing behind him.

"The prince?" he echoed.

"The king's youngest brother," Nicholas said, eyes fixed on the boy. "Their father died in battle. The eldest took the throne at just nineteen. That one," he gestured to the boy in front of them, "is the younger brother. He's only a few years older than you."

Ares' eyes widened.

*Why the hell would the prince—*the second in line to the throne—be here?

The prince began walking forward, his eyes scanning the crowd. For a brief moment, Ares thought he was staring directly at him. Each step seemed deliberate, like he was approaching Ares himself.

But then he realized—it wasn't him. The prince's gaze was fixed on someone behind him.

His mentor.

"Nicholas," the prince said with a smile that never reached his eyes.

"Your Majesty. What brings you so far from the Royal Palace?" Nicholas asked, his tone carefully neutral.

"Word of your advancement to Expert Rank has reached the palace," the prince replied. "But you've been... difficult to summon."

"My apologies. I've been rather occupied."

"Oh? Do tell. What could possibly keep someone of your Rank tucked away in this little village?"

Before Nicholas could respond, the prince's eyes flicked back to Ares.

"And you are?"

"Ares... Your Majesty," he answered with a bow.

"Ares. What do you say you, me, and Nicholas share a meal?"

Before either of them could respond, the prince was already turning away.

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"Come, come," he called over his shoulder. "One of my caravans is specifically designed for dining."

Ares glanced at Nicholas, but his mentor didn't meet his gaze. Instead, he stared at the prince's back, his expression dark.

There was something in his eyes—an unease Ares had never seen before.

Something felt wrong.

Very wrong.