Arcane Heir: History's Strongest Mage

Melody's teaching opened up a whole new world for Michael, who had once been held back by his poor potential. But once he grasped the core concepts of mana control, he became utterly consumed by the allure of magic.

Though the circumstances surrounding his ascension to Crimson Mage remained a mystery, he suspected that understanding them wouldn't have changed much.

So, he chose to ignore it—for now—and focus on the things he could control.

Michael took his role as Melody's butler seriously, diligently attending to his duties while seizing every chance to discuss mana theory. On the surface, the two appeared to get along well, much to the surprise of the manor's other servants.

The Lord and Lady were especially pleased by this development, believing their plan was working out better than expected. Of course, they had no idea the two children had struck a mutually beneficial arrangement.

In private, Melody often shed her composed noble persona and reverted to her real self—the teasing, occasionally crass girl who never hesitated to speak her mind.

At first, Michael found it jarring. But he was adaptable. Over time, he came to see it as a sign that she trusted him, and he adjusted accordingly.

Each night, they attended tutoring sessions with Charles when he was home from the academy. When he was away, the Lord brought in an older man to teach them. Though his methods were a bit outdated, his depth of knowledge regarding spells was impressive.

And so, Michael settled into a routine.

Every day without fail, he shadowed Melody through her lessons, meals, and even noble parties. Life was busier than it had ever been, but for once, he didn't feel useless.

Seasons passed like the tide. Before long, three years had gone by since Michael first appeared on the doorstep of Whitevalley Town.

"Good morning, sunshine~" came a familiar voice in a sing-song tone.

A low grumble answered from under the blanket, thick with protest.

"Michael…" Shirley huffed, "get out of bed before I make you," she warned, her tone edged with mock threat.

"I'm up!" Michael shot upright, bleary-eyed. He gave her a tired glare, then let out a yawn as he swung his legs off the bed.

Shirley sighed and shook her head. "You used to be such an obedient boy," she said dramatically. "Now you're staying up late doing God knows what."

"I was studying," Michael said flatly. "Don't get any weird ideas. The entrance exam for Arcadia is today. I can't afford to fail."

"Entrance exam?" Shirley tilted her head. "I thought you were already accepted—because of the young miss."

"You think the best academy in the nation just lets anyone in like that?" Michael replied. "Even Melody has to take the entrance exam, and she was personally invited by the academy board."

Shirley studied him for a moment, then gave a small nod and patted his shoulder. "Well, good luck, sweetie. Tell me how you did when you get back."

Michael hesitated.

"Shirley… If I pass, I won't be back for quite a while."

He felt her body tense at his words.

She must've known he would leave for Arcadia eventually—but maybe she hadn't expected it to be so soon.

"I see…"

Before Michael could offer any words of comfort, he was yanked forward into a rib-crushing embrace. He was no stranger to Shirley's inhuman strength, but this time it caught him completely off guard.

Thankfully, after the initial bone-crushing squeeze, she eased up, allowing him to breathe again. He hesitated for a moment, then gently returned the hug, patting her back in kind.

Over the past three years, they had grown close. Not a single morning had passed without her waking him up and serving breakfast, caring for him like a doting older sister.

Michael knew she had no hidden agenda. She never expected anything in return—her affection was genuine, rooted in a quiet, familial bond.

"I'll miss you," Michael said softly.

"Damn right you will…" Shirley replied, her voice slightly hoarse.

She pulled away and held him at arm's length, scanning his face with a mixture of pride and worry.

"You'll take care of yourself, right? Make sure you bathe every day—and don't forget to eat."

"Of course," he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"Mmm, good." She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye with the back of her hand. "You're a good boy, Michael. I'm sure you'll make plenty of friends your own age at the academy."

Michael didn't exactly share her optimism, but he nodded anyway. No point in making her worry more than she already was.

They spoke a little longer before Shirley finally said her goodbyes, reminding him—several times—to take care of himself.

Only once she had left the room did Michael exhale, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

He had worried about how their farewell would go, but in the end, it had gone better than expected. Still, it was the first time he'd seen Shirley get emotional—and that only made her sincerity more apparent.

His eyes drifted to the breakfast tray she'd left behind—eggs, cured ham, and a warm, freshly baked bread roll. He wasn't sure what the meals at Arcadia would be like, but he doubted any of them would give him the same warmth that Shirley's cooking did. Of that, he was certain.

After polishing off the food, he began getting ready. He dressed in his usual work clothes—now a custom fit, thanks to the tailor visits necessitated by a recent growth spurt.

Standing in front of the mirror, he gave himself a once-over.

His green eyes gleamed like polished emeralds as he examined his reflection. Tousled blond hair framed a sharp jawline and a strong chin. Symmetrical features and a clear, healthy complexion gave him the dignified look of a young noble.

Unsurprising—he used to be one.

Michael adjusted his collar and took a final glance at his outfit. He could no longer be called scrawny. Though he'd inherited his father's height, the years of physical work and a healthy appetite had filled out his frame with some budding muscle.

With a quiet nod of satisfaction, a flicker of anticipation stirred in his chest.

"It's finally time…"