Occult Awakening: From Commoner to Archmage

'Ah, so that's what they meant.'

The Great Hall was silent. All the nobles had stopped to assess the newcomer. Had he been one of them; another noble, there would have been no issue at all. But Luca wasn't a noble. He didn't even look as wealthy as some of the commoners who were privileged enough to be here.

He could feel the weight behind every stare that fell on him.

Confusion. Disgust. Disdain. Indifference. A touch of anger, even.

"Who is that?"

"Who the hell does he think he is?"

"A commoner? How dare he barge in?!"

Murmurs rippled through the room, the collective recovery from the shock of an "uninvited" guest.

It was enough to fluster anyone normal. But Terry and Jack had misunderstood something about Luca. He was never normal, even before he learned how to wield magic.

He returned every gaze with a calm, indifferent expression and walked forward with steady steps that echoed loud in the silence.

This was exactly what he'd been waiting for.

Within his mind, the Legacy flared, marking two unique energy signatures in the crowd. Two mages that he didn't recognize.

Luca didn't slow. His eyes were fixed on Erina, who sat at a long table along the side of the room, surrounded by girls in elegant but modest dresses and men in plain but expensive shirts and trousers.

The Great Hall lived up to its name. It was easily large enough to swallow his entire home several times over.

At the far walls hung paintings and sculptures. Four sets of plain silver knight-armor stood alert in the corners, their empty visors staring into nothing. Rows of bookshelves and cabinets filled the space.

A large section of the hall was furnished with couches and tea tables, while the central space held a broad table for conversation and wine. Off to the side stretched the long dining table where Erina sat. From some angles, it looked like two separate rooms forced together.

Luca stopped before her, satchel in hand, about to offer it over but froze. The Duke's gaze was already on him, sharp as a drawn blade. Delivering the satchel here would be far too suspicious.

If there was anyone in this room he was genuinely wary of, it was him.

Luca forced a small grin and bent into a half bow.

"Greetings, milady."

Erina's stunned eyes lingered on him. Luca nearly rolled his own.

'How dramatic. As if she wasn't the one who told me to come here.'

"You're safe," she muttered.

He almost cursed aloud. Erina was bad luck.

"I am," he replied evenly. "I don't want to keep interrupting, miss. So if you could just…"

She blinked, regathering herself, then glanced at the dusty satchel slung around his shoulder. Her eyes flicked back to his.

"Oh, yes. Of course. Let's go get that sorted."

She rose, turning toward the door—

"Hold it, Erina."

The older man's voice rang behind her, unhurried but commanding.

Luca hadn't seen the Duke before, but he was impossible to miss. The aura around him was unmistakable. It wasn't as overwhelming as the Sky Tyrant or Paralda, the King of the Sky, but it was still far more dangerous than anything Luca could hope to match.

The confident girl froze like a child caught misbehaving. Apt.

Where Luca felt the heavy, existential fear of a predator, Erina felt something much simpler, but worse; the eternal fear of parents.

She turned back to face her father, who sat calmly, sipping tea.

"Come over here," he commanded. His gaze shifted to Luca. "You too, lad."

They both complied. Luca didn't mind. He expected this the moment he learned the Duke was in the city. There was no way he'd be allowed to come and go without an "introduction."

The crowd leaned in, hushed and eager. No one dared break the silence when Duke Venton spoke.

Luca pitied them. Nobles, draped in political power, yet reduced to sycophants for scraps of the Duke's words.

A heartbeat later, he and Erina stood before the man.

Duke Venton's uniform was immaculately pressed, his medals gleaming. An ornare sword hung at his side, but Luca didn't doubt he could use it without hesitation. The man stroked his beard, eyes steady.

"You didn't think to introduce your new… friend to me?"

Erina pouted, looking away.

"I was going to. Eventually. I only met him a few days ago. He's just helping me with some small matters here and there."

"If they're small, why not ask Alfred?"

Erina's lips pursed at the sharp and accurate question, but she had come prepared.

"Alfred's old. Won't you go easy on the poor man?"

Charles shook his head.

"That still doesn't explain nearly enough, dear." His eyes shifted to Luca. "You, boy. What's your name?"

Luca bowed slightly.

"Luca Kaldreth, sir."

Charles regarded him carefully.

"You're Thule?"

"By blood, yes, but I was raised in the Empire."

The Duke hummed, "My ancestors won honor from chopping Thuleman heads off."

The silence returned, heavier this time. Charles Venton's gaze locked on him.

If Luca hadn't been skilled at reading people, he might have thought the man had run out of questions. But no, to him it appeared simply that the Duke already had the answers. He was measuring something else.

Charles wasn't blind. At first glance, he'd thought Luca a charlatan who had somehow charmed his daughter. But when the boy stepped closer, it was different.

There was a glint in his eyes; a drive only men like Charles could recognize.

They were exactly the same.

Luca felt it too. An unyielding hunger. The thirst for power, political or magical, divine or worldly.

Charles knew it was dangerous. Left unchecked, such hunger could consume his daughter's world. Yet… it was also promising.

To him, Luca was clay. Unshaped, but with potential. Something he could mold.

Meanwhile, Luca already saw Charles as a mine of wealth and influence waiting to be tapped.

Neither of them had the faintest idea of the other's intentions.

Charles's lips curved into a rare smile.

"So, Luca Kaldreth. What do you think about the recent plague?"