Project Superior: A Hero’s Awakening

Not long had passed since the tea party I shared with the Ivanovich family. Though I still felt hesitant and distant, I found myself speaking more—especially with Lady Svetlana and Princess Fyodora, who had a knack for drawing me out of my shell.

It was on one such day, as Lady Svetlana was brushing and styling my hair. I had protested at first, but her persistence had worn me down, and I eventually gave in. Princess Fyodora watched the whole affair with childlike delight, firing off question after question, her excitement uncontainable.

Suddenly, a knock interrupted us. The door creaked open, and there stood Lord Graviil.

"Good morning, Father!" Fyodora beamed, her enthusiasm lighting up the room.

"Good morning, my little princess," Lord Graviil replied, stepping in and tousling her hair with a warm chuckle. Fyodora squeaked as he did so, her cheeks flushing as red as a tomato.

Lady Svetlana turned to him, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. "Good morning, darling. What brings you here today?"

Graviil returned her gaze with a gentle smile. "I wanted to have a word with our guest," he said, his eyes shifting toward me.

"With her?" Svetlana asked, her tone tinged with curiosity. Then, as if a realization struck her, a small, sly smile played across her lips. "That's a wonderful idea. It would do you both good to have some time together."

Fyodora, catching her mother's intent, clapped her hands together. "Yes! You two should spend time alone!"

Kneeling down so that he was at my level, Lord Graviil extended his hand toward me. His expression was warm—radiating a sincerity that caught me off guard. "Would you care to join me for a walk, young lady?"

I hesitated, glancing between him and the outstretched hand. His deep blue eyes held a kindness I couldn't quite reconcile with his commanding presence. After a moment, I murmured, "...Yes," my voice barely above a whisper, my face turning away to hide the flush of emotion that crept up my cheeks.

He helped me up with surprising gentleness, leading me toward the door. "Don't worry," he said, glancing back at his daughter and wife, "I'll return your friend safe and sound."

"Okay, Papa!" Fyodora called after us, her joy infectious.

Lady Svetlana's gaze lingered as we left, her expression soft. I hope this brings them closer together. I want her to feel like family—no matter her past.

We walked in silence through the sprawling halls of Tsarigrad Citadel. The corridors stretched endlessly, their marble walls adorned with gilded tapestries and chandeliers that cast an ethereal glow. Despite the grandeur around us, my thoughts were fixed on the man beside me.

Our journey brought us to a heavily guarded passage, its entrance watched over by knights clad in gleaming armor. Their sheer presence was daunting, a testament to their strength and vigilance. As we approached, they knelt in perfect unison.

"Greetings to the Lord of Light, Tsar of All, King Graviil Ivanovich!" their voices boomed, resonating through the hall.

Graviil acknowledged them with a nod and a kind smile. "Thank you. Please, open the Grand Vault of Treasures."

The knights sprang into action, positioning themselves to break the intricate security enchantments on the massive, rune-inscribed gates. One by one, the protective spells unraveled, a process that seemed almost ceremonial. As the final barrier fell, the gates groaned open, revealing the vault beyond.

I was struck silent by the sight before me. The vault stretched endlessly, filled with treasures that defied imagination. Weapons and armor, each piece radiating power, lined the walls in perfect rows. Potions shimmered in their containers, their colors shifting as if alive.

But the heart of the vault lay deeper within, where the most extraordinary artifacts resided. These were no ordinary relics. They were ethereal instruments, legendary weapons said to rival the power of the heavens themselves.

As we moved deeper, one artifact drew my gaze above all others. In the center of the chamber stood a massive sword, its blade forged from pure, radiant light. It pulsed with a serene yet overwhelming energy, as though it had a life of its own.

"That sword…" I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Graviil followed my gaze and nodded, his expression softening. "Yes, you've seen it before."

Memories surged back—memories of the day he saved me from certain death. He had wielded this very blade, cutting through the heavens above to come to the rescue of his beloved daughter and knights.

"You remember, don't you?" he said gently, his voice carrying both pride and understanding.

I nodded, unable to tear my eyes away from the sword. In that moment, standing amidst treasures of unimaginable worth, I felt a strange sense of connection—not just to the sword but to the man beside me.

"What you see here," Lord Graviil began, his voice steady yet filled with pride, "are the sacred ethereal instruments of our family bloodline. They are housed in the renowned Grand Vault of Treasures, a vault that has stood for millennia, safeguarding Ivanovich history."

His expression softened into a smile as he continued. "Each instrument here carries the very weight of creation itself. Every one of them was forged by Ulfberht, the legendary blacksmith and Father of Blades—a master craftsman whose hands shaped the divine, godly tools we now revere as 'ethereal instruments.'"

I listened, unsure why he was sharing this with me, but I couldn't deny the fascination stirring within.

"Since Ulfberht's passing," he explained, "no new ethereal instruments have been created. To forge even one now takes years of painstaking effort, even for the most gifted blacksmiths. Their craftsmanship is a feat few can achieve."

I said nothing, but my gaze lingered on the luminous sword before me, its brilliance mesmerizing.

Lord Graviil chuckled, noticing my fixation. "Ah, I see your eyes are drawn to one of our family's greatest treasures."

"One of the greatest?" I echoed, unaware I'd spoken aloud.

"That sword," he said, gesturing toward it with reverence, "is Zadkiel, the Divine Blade of Light. It was wielded by King Ivan, the founder of our family's dynasty."

My eyes followed as he pointed to another weapon—a majestic spear with a length that seemed otherworldly.

"And that," he continued, "is Seraphel, the Heavenly Lance of the Heavens. Together, these two form the core of our family's legacy."

"Wow," I murmured, the awe in my voice escaping despite myself.

He smiled warmly at my reaction and then motioned to a golden chalice. It shimmered with an ethereal glow, its very presence exuding an almost tangible divinity.

"Lastly, we have the Holy Grail, the Chalice of Immortality. Legend says it can bring life to its surroundings and bolster the strength and morale of those who fight for a righteous cause."

Each of these treasures radiated power, but there was something more—an almost palpable soulfulness.

"These three," he said with a touch of pride, "are the trinity of our family's most sacred possessions. Together, they are among the most powerful artifacts in existence—surpassed perhaps only by the mythical Excalibur." He chuckled at the thought. "But that's just legend, of course. A legend that is still engraved into the history of creation itself"

He paused, as if gauging my reaction, before adding, "As the head of the Ivanovich family, I am their guardian. But one day, they will pass to my descendants. It's a legacy meant to be shared, not hoarded."

As he spoke, I couldn't help but wonder why he had brought me here, sharing these deeply personal details. What was his purpose?

Sensing my unease, Lord Graviil's tone shifted. "I imagine you're wondering why I've brought you here." He exhaled deeply, his expression growing more solemn. "It's because these weapons—remarkable as they are—are just tools. They possess a sort of consciousness, yes. They choose their wielders, refusing anyone unworthy. But they are, at their core, still just weapons. Material objects with no soul, no true will."

His gaze met mine, steady and piercing. "Unlike them, you are not a weapon. You may see yourself as one—a tool for others' ambitions. A hunter. A killer. But you are made of flesh and blood. You have a heart capable of feeling and a soul that grants you meaning beyond what you've done or what others expect of you."

I stiffened, his words cutting through me. Before he could continue, I snapped, "I know what you're trying to say, and the answer is no!"

My voice cracked as I stepped back, my hands clenching into fists. "I can't live some happy life—not after everything I've done. Do you know how many lives I've taken? How many innocent people I've killed without a second thought? Do you know the futures I've snuffed out? Futures that could've changed the world?"

My anger boiled over, raw and unchecked. "And now you expect me to pretend I'm something I'm not? To just live and move on?"

Graviil remained silent, letting my words pour out unchecked.

"Every moment I spend here, in this house, with your family, I feel like a fraud," I shouted. "I'm nothing but a coward—a failure who abandoned the only people who mattered to me. Do you know how much I hate myself for running away? For leaving them to die while I hide here, pretending to be something I'm not?"

"Child…" Lord Graviil's voice was soft, filled with a pain that mirrored my own.

But I wasn't done. Tears streamed down my face as I murmured, "Why couldn't they have this? Why couldn't Eighteen have this? Why me? Why was I the one left alive? I don't deserve this... I wish I'd never been born."

My voice cracked on the last word, and my knees buckled. My fists trembled at my sides, nails biting into my palms as blood seeped between my fingers.

Graviil stepped forward cautiously, his face etched with sorrow. He didn't speak right away, letting the silence envelop us.

For a moment, it was as though time had stopped.

Kneeling down, Lord Graviil spoke to me in a soft, gentle tone. "Don't speak of yourself that way, child. You were born for a reason, with purpose woven into the very fabric of your being. That body, that mind, and that soul were chosen for you. Though you were not born into ideal circumstances, that does not diminish your worth."

He gestured around us, his voice carrying the weight of a fatherly truth. "Look at this world, this story crafted by the Highest King. It brims with beauty, with life, and you—yes, you—are one of its most precious creations."

"I'm... not," I murmured, my tears falling faster now, betraying the storm of emotions within.

Wiping my tears with his hand, Lord Graviil continued with a warmth that seemed to reach into my very soul. "Would a coward be capable of admitting their faults? Would they stand here, burdened with regret, yet willing to question their own path?"

His words struck me, leaving me momentarily speechless. Before I could respond, he pressed on. "You are standing here for a reason. Don't let the sacrifices of others be in vain."

"But… I ran away," I whispered, my voice breaking. "I abandoned them—all those who trusted me. How can I ever face that?"

As I crumbled under the weight of my guilt, my tears falling freely, Lord Graviil took a deep breath. Slowly, he began to channel ethereal energy from the space around us. The radiant energy coalesced into his palm, forming a glowing orb of pure, divine light.

"You told me you have no name," he began, his voice steady and resolute. "A name is more than a word; it's a symbol of identity, a mark of one's existence. Let me give you that—a name, a purpose, and a new beginning."

Though I didn't answer, the longing in my heart betrayed my silence. A name. It was something I never knew I desired until this moment.

Placing his hand gently on my chest, the orb of light slowly entered my being. As it merged with my essence, Lord Graviil leaned his forehead against mine and declared, "From this day forth, I bestow upon you the name Anastasia. Let it be the rebirth of your spirit and the start of a new chapter in your life."

The moment his words echoed through the chamber, a radiant warmth spread throughout my being. The light of the orb illuminated the darkest recesses of my soul, breaking the chains of despair that had bound me for so long.

For the first time in my life, I felt free. I could breathe not out of duty, but with a genuine desire to live. A surge of unfamiliar emotions—joy, gratitude, and hope—washed over me like a tidal wave.

Without thinking, I threw myself into Lord Graviil's arms, clinging to him as if he were my anchor. Tears streamed down my face, but they were no longer tears of sorrow. They were tears of rebirth.

He held me close, his voice firm yet tender. "Cry no more, Anastasia. Your past does not define you. Who you choose to be today will shape who you become tomorrow. Let this be the first step on a path paved with kindness, love, and joy."

"Thank you," I whispered through my sobs, my heart swelling with a gratitude I had no words for. "Thank you… Father."

From a distance, hidden in the shadows, Lady Svetlana watched the scene unfold with a proud smile. Hearing her husband's heartfelt words brought tears to her eyes. "Anastasia," she murmured to herself. "Who would have thought he'd give her the name of his late mother, Lady Anastasia Ivanovich?"

Her smile deepened. "Darling, you always find new ways to make me fall in love with you all over again."

Several weeks passed, and I felt like a new person. With my new name, I shed the weight of my past and began to embrace life with an open heart. For the first time, I smiled—not out of obligation, but with genuine joy.

Father Graviil and Mother Svetlana proposed adopting me as their heir, news that made Princess Fyodora squeal with delight at the prospect of having a younger sister. But one day, after they had returned from attending royal affairs, I knelt before their thrones and declined their generous offer.

"Why?" Father Graviil asked, his voice tinged with confusion.

I bowed my head and answered, "I am deeply grateful for everything you've done for me. But allowing you to adopt me would feel like taking advantage of your kindness. I cannot bring myself to accept such an honor."

His expression softened, but I continued, my voice unwavering. "Instead, I wish to repay your kindness in the only way I know how—by serving your family. I want to become a maid of the Ivanovich household. This way, I can feel I'm contributing, not just receiving."

Though both he and Mother Svetlana looked displeased, they respected my decision.

"A maid, huh?" Mother Svetlana murmured, puffing out her cheeks in mock frustration. "Well, if that's what makes you happy, dear, then so be it. But remember this, Anastasia: even if you work as a maid, you are still part of this family. Everyone in this nation is, and that includes you. Got it?"

I couldn't help but laugh softly at her antics. "Got it, Mother."

As I concluded my story, Xavier's eyes lit up with wonder. "Wow! That's an amazing story, Miss Anastasia! I never knew all that about you. And you got to meet my mother and grandmother too? I wish I could've met them."

I smiled, ruffling his hair fondly. "Queen Svetlana and Lady Fyodora would have loved you, Young Master. So don't worry—they're smiling down on you."

Young Master Xavier blushed, his expression a mix of surprise and excitement. "Why haven't you told us about your past before? It's so fantastic!"

I giggled softly, feeling a little shy under his eager gaze. "I'm sorry I didn't. It's just… it's a bit of a sad story. I usually don't bring it up because it might dampen the mood. It's too depressing."

"Not at all," Lord Alcmana declared, leaping gracefully from Xavier's shoulder into my arms. "Stories like yours are what make each of us unique. You shouldn't feel ashamed or embarrassed. In fact, sharing it might help someone going through something similar."

Xavier raised an eyebrow, a sly grin creeping onto his face. "Wow, Master. You're very insightful when it comes to human emotions."

Alcmana's cheeks flushed a deep crimson, his draconic pride clearly wounded. "Just because I'm a dragon doesn't mean I don't understand human emotions, you stupid brat!" he huffed indignantly. "We experience struggles too, you know!"

Xavier chuckled, his grin widening. "You're so easily riled up, Master."

That was all the provocation Alcmana needed. With a growl, he lunged at Xavier, his tiny claws batting at him with a flurry of harmless strikes. "You insufferable child! Take that!"

"Help!" Xavier cried, laughing uncontrollably as he tried—and failed—to dodge the tiny dragon's onslaught.

As their playful scuffle continued, the bustling streets around us began to quiet. The golden sun dipped lower, painting the horizon in hues of orange and red, its light casting long shadows over the cobblestones. We passed by a street vendor displaying an assortment of trinkets and accessories, and something immediately caught my eye—a beautifully crafted mask.

It was shaped like a white tiger, its intricate patterns striking yet elegant, with vibrant blue eyes that seemed almost alive. I stepped closer, carefully lifting it to examine its fine craftsmanship.

"Is the lady interested in that mask?" the elderly vendor asked, his voice kind and weathered by years of trade.

I smiled at him and placed a small pouch of gold coins on his table. "Yes, I'll take it."

The vendor's eyes widened in shock at the sum, his jaw hanging open. I didn't linger to see his reaction, though. Instead, I knelt beside Xavier, gently placing the mask over his face. It fit perfectly, the design complementing his youthful features while adding a mysterious air.

"You look amazing, Young Master!" I said brightly, unable to hide my excitement.

Xavier froze, his wide eyes staring at me from behind the mask. Even Alcmana seemed momentarily speechless, perched on Xavier's shoulder as if stunned by my words.

"Th-this is… a great disguise!" Xavier stammered, breaking the silence. He straightened, trying to regain his composure. "Miss Anastasia, you're a genius!"

"Thank you, Young Master!" I replied, clapping my hands together with a grin.

Noticing how late it was, I suggested we call it a day and return to the inn. As we walked, I let my thoughts drift to memories of the past. A warm smile tugged at my lips as I recalled the days when Queen Svetlana and Lady Fyodora were still alive. Those were brighter times, filled with laughter and joy. Back then, Master Graviil had been much stricter and more serious, a stark contrast to the softer, more emotional man he was today.

I thought of Lady Fyodora's firstborn, Prince Aleksander. I could still remember holding him in my arms, marveling at his tiny hands and bright eyes. And oh, the day Lady Fyodora returned home, beaming as she announced her love for Mr. Jonathan and their upcoming marriage! Father Graviil's reaction had been priceless—he'd turned as pale as snow, looking like his soul had fled his body.

A quiet giggle escaped my lips at the memory. How I wished Queen Svetlana could have been there for Lady Fyodora's wedding, or to meet her grandson. But what's done is done, and I've long since accepted that the past cannot be changed. Even if it could, would I have everything I do now? Likely not.

No matter. I'm certain they're in a better place now, watching over us with smiles.

I glanced back at Xavier and Alcmana, still bickering like siblings. A deep warmth filled my heart. The light that Father Graviil once gave me… I see it now in you, Young Master. You were born with that light, destined to share it with others, just as Father shared it with me when I needed it most.

If that's true, I will stay by your side, guarding that light and helping it grow. Until my very last breath...

Xavier.