SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant-Chapter 378: Seventeen [III]

Caelum stepped forward and placed the object into Trafalgar’s hands with the same precision he applied to everything else. There was no flourish, no pause meant to elevate the moment. The transfer was clean, almost clinical, yet the weight of the item was immediately apparent. Compact. Dense. Designed to occupy as little space as possible while carrying far more purpose than its size suggested.

It fit naturally in Trafalgar’s palm.

The casing was dark and smooth, interrupted only by faint, angular engravings that traced its surface like restrained circuitry. Mana slept inside it, compressed and disciplined, not leaking, not reacting. It felt less like a tool waiting to be activated and more like a mechanism already prepared to act on its own.

Trafalgar looked at it for a moment, then raised his eyes to Caelum.

"May I open it?"

The question came out calm, almost formal, as if asking permission were still the correct approach in a situation that felt quietly abnormal.

Caelum did not hesitate.

"That is what a gift is for, young master."

There was no emphasis on the word. No attempt to soften it. It was stated as fact.

Trafalgar lowered his gaze again and began to open the casing.

He did so slowly, carefully, the way one handled something that was not fragile, but important. The outer shell separated with a muted click, and the moment his fingers brushed the item inside, the air in front of him shifted.

A familiar presence asserted itself.

[Item Identified]

[Gateward Anchor – Epic Rank]

A contingency-type artifact designed to automatically teleport the bearer to a designated safe location when lethal danger is detected.

The information settled cleanly into his awareness, without fanfare or excess.

Trafalgar’s eyes narrowed slightly as he lifted the item from its housing. It was smaller than he expected. A compact core set within a stabilizing frame, its surface marked by layered sigils that folded inward on themselves, overlapping in a way that suggested preparation rather than raw output.

Epic.

He didn’t need to dwell on the label. The density of the mana alone was enough.

"What is this, Caelum?" he asked, already knowing part of the answer. "And what does it do?"

Caelum’s gaze remained steady, his posture unchanged.

"It will help you in the war."

The answer was immediate. Complete.

Trafalgar turned the Gateward Anchor slightly, examining the redundancies built into its structure. There was nothing ornamental about it. No wasted space. No secondary functions meant to impress. Everything about it pointed toward a single conclusion.

This item did not exist to make him stronger. It existed to make sure he lived.

Trafalgar let the Gateward Anchor rest in his hand for a moment longer, the weight of it settling fully into his awareness. Then, as the system’s recognition finalized, the artifact responded. The structure lost cohesion, its edges breaking apart into fine particles of mana that drifted upward for a brief instant before dissolving completely.

A familiar sensation followed.

The Gateward Anchor was no longer in his hand.

It had been stored.

Only then did he lift his gaze back to Caelum.

"You seem very sure Valttair will take me to the war."

The words were calm, observational rather than challenging. Trafalgar wasn’t testing Caelum’s knowledge. He was confirming something he had already inferred.

Caelum did not answer.

He stood as he always did, posture composed, expression unreadable. The silence stretched between them, unbroken and deliberate. It wasn’t uncertainty. It was restraint.

Trafalgar exhaled quietly.

"Then I suppose I was right."

Caelum inclined his head, just enough to acknowledge the conclusion.

"All of the heirs will go, young master," he said. "The nine of you."

The statement landed without ceremony.

"Valttair wishes to see who will distinguish themselves in real combat," Caelum continued. "Not in controlled trials or structured evaluations. On the battlefield itself."

Trafalgar absorbed the information without visible reaction.

Caelum went on, his tone unchanged.

"In past conflicts, Maeron and Lady Lysandra have always stood out. First and second heir, without dispute." A brief pause followed. "Lady Rivena tends to do only what is required. No more."

Trafalgar’s expression remained neutral.

"There is, however, one among the others who seeks battle rather than avoids it," Caelum added. "And who compensates for talent with calculation."

Trafalgar’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Who?" Trafalgar asked.

"Helgar, your brother has always sought to distinguish himself through command. While he does not possess your talent, nor that of Lady Rivena, Lady Lysandra, or Lord Maeron, his mind is suited for conflict."" Caelum replied.

There was no judgment in the assessment. Only fact.

"Valttair holds a high opinion of him," Caelum continued. "In fact, Lord Valttair will announce today that two additional heirs will be granted cities with Gates."

Trafalgar’s attention sharpened.

"Maeron and Helgar will join you and Lady Lysandra."

A memory surfaced unbidden. The funeral. Mordrek’s name spoken in a hall thick with restrained anger. Euclid assigned to him while others watched in silence.

Caelum spoke again, quieter this time.

"There was considerable resentment then. Many believed the city should have gone to someone else."

Trafalgar remained silent, thoughts aligning quickly.

"I see," he said at last. "He’s shifting the attention away from me."

Caelum’s eyes flickered, just slightly. Surprise, brief and unguarded.

That had been the intention.

"Yes," Caelum said after a moment. "This decision will appease several branches of the family. It will also make your brothers the subject of discussion, rather than you."

Trafalgar considered it, then nodded once.

"That’s fine."

He paused, then added, sincerely, "Thank you for the gift, Caelum. Truly. I hope I won’t have to use it."

Caelum inclined his head again.

"So do I, young master."

Trafalgar walked beside Caelum through the inner corridors of Morgain Castle.

Tall windows lined the passage, their glass darkened by the storm outside. Snow fell steadily beyond them, carried sideways by high-altitude winds, vanishing into the endless white of the mountain range. The peaks rose like frozen giants, higher than any natural boundary should allow, cutting the world away from everything below. From here, the land felt distant. Small. Almost irrelevant.

As they walked, Trafalgar spoke without looking at him.

"If it activates," he said, "where will it take me?"

Caelum answered without pause.

"Velkaris."

Trafalgar’s eyes shifted slightly.

"The GateHub," Caelum continued. "You would emerge through one of the emergency Gates. The item is anchored to that network. It is designed to prioritize safety and retrieval."

"So I won’t be dropped somewhere random," Trafalgar said.

"No," Caelum replied. "The destination is fixed. Several great families use similar artifacts. An heir dying to circumstance is considered unacceptable."

That made sense.

Trafalgar nodded once. "Understood."

They reached the end of the corridor. The warmth of the inner halls faded as they approached the central wing, where voices and presence began to bleed into the silence. Caelum slowed, then stopped.

"This is where I leave you, young master," he said.

Trafalgar turned to him. "We’ll see what happens."

"Yes," Caelum replied. "We will."

With that, he stepped back, already fading from relevance, his role complete. Trafalgar continued alone.

The doors to the main hall opened before him.

Inside, the family was already gathered.

Heirs stood spaced apart rather than grouped, postures composed, expressions carefully managed. Wives occupied the outer positions, their gazes sharp, appraising, lingering a fraction too long whenever Trafalgar moved. Conversations were absent, replaced by a low, expectant silence that felt less like waiting and more like circling.

Eyes followed him.

Some with interest. Some with calculation. A few with restraint thin enough to be noticed.

The rumors had spread. Not only about him, but about Maeron. About Helgar. About new territories and Gates yet to be named. The balance inside the family was already shifting, and everyone present knew it.

Trafalgar took his place without comment.

All attention turned toward the entrance.

They were waiting for Valttair.