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Chapter 62 - Silvermine Estate

Chapter 62: Chapter 62 - Silvermine Estate

As the Wind Chariot gradually slowed, Lucien immediately sensed the change in the atmosphere.

Noble District.

The familiar hum of the bustling city faded, replaced by a calm and deliberate stillness.

The streets grew wider and more pristine. The surface was paved with polished stone that gleamed under the sunlight.

There were fewer people here but those who strolled about wore elegant and expensive clothing. Their manner was also poised and unhurried.

From time to time, luxurious carriages drifted past. They were drawn not by horses, but by tamed monsters.

Unicorns. Drakes. Other antlered beasts.

They glided silently across the cobbled lanes. They are symbols of power and prestige.

Soon, towering mansions came into view. They stand proudly behind wrought iron fences draped in blooming ivy and vibrant roses.

Each estate was a clear reflection of its owner’s wealth and refined taste.

Well-dressed retainers and watchful house guards moved about the manicured grounds. Their sharp eyes tracked every passerby with quiet vigilance.

Lucien’s eyes glowed with a mix of awe and curiosity. His fist clenched unconsciously as he took in the grandeur surrounding him.

It was an eye-opening sight.

The world of the rich... was something he could barely comprehend.

Yet beneath all that beauty... there was tension.

Quiet but undeniable.

Lucien felt it too.

An undercurrent of rivalry ran through the air.

Status games.

Old bloodline feuds.

Tangled webs of political intrigue.

He saw it in the way guards subtly monitored one another’s movements... in the fleeting, guarded glances exchanged between servants clad in the colors of rival houses.

No words were spoken but the silence carried weight.

Soon after, they arrived.

The Silvermine Estate.

Tucked behind a high wall laced with silver-flecked stone, the mansion stood like a polished jewel among the noble residences.

The gates forged from steel were sculpted into intertwining veins and curling vines. At their center gleamed the family sigil...

A silver pickaxe crossed over a crescent moon, faintly glowing with protective runes.

The mansion itself rose three stately stories. Its facade was crafted from pale gray granite streaked with silver veins that caught the light like frost on stone.

Elegant balconies curled outward while tall arched windows shimmered with a soft bluish tint. It was enchanted to keep the interior cool and hidden from prying eyes.

At the heart of the courtyard, a descending spiral-shaped fountain poured crystal-clear water that sparkled with flecks of light as though tiny shards of silver danced within its depths.

Everything about the estate exuded old wealth and restrained authority.

Not loud opulence but quiet confidence.

The kind built not on inheritance alone but on generations of ambition and resourcefulness.

Even the air here seemed cooler and calmer.

Maxim finally descended in front of the gate.

The moment the guards spotted the Wind Chariot, they rushed over in a blur of motion.

"Sir Maxim! You used the Wind Chariot! Did something happen?" one asked. His eyes scanned him for injuries.

The other guard silently observed, more focused but clearly concerned.

Maxim waved off their worry with a casual smile. "Nothing serious. Just wanted to change the pace a bit. Is my brother here already?"

The guard paused.

"Yes, Sir. The Lord is inside and has been waiting for you."

Maxim nodded in acknowledgment.

Just then, Lucien stepped out of the Wind Chariot.

The guards stiffened immediately.

He wasn’t doing anything but the air around him shifted.

Heavy. Unsettling.

There was a pressure they couldn’t quite name, something instinctual that told them this young man wasn’t ordinary.

"I didn’t know you brought someone with you, Sir Maxim," one guard said carefully.

"Ah—right," Maxim said. "Allow me to introduce him. This young man is Lucien. Treat him as you would treat me."

Lucien gave a small nod. "Good day."

The guards quickly straightened. "Good day, sir!" they echoed, saluting in unison.

Their minds raced.

’Who was this Lucien that Sir Maxim would place him on equal standing?’

’He looked young... but the presence he carried... it said otherwise.’

They exchanged glances as their curiosity ignited.

Whoever he was, he wasn’t just some guest.

"All right, we’ll head in now," Maxim said. "Take care of Storm for me."

The guard blinked. "Sir... who’s Storm?"

Maxim chuckled. "Ah, the wyvern. He’s now called Storm."

Lucien gave Storm a final pat. Then with a smooth motion, he handed a couple of Energy Drinks to the guards.

"For you," he said simply.

The guards looked at the unexpected gifts in their hands, surprised.

Lucien followed Maxim through the gates. His presence was calm but commanding.

The guards exchanged glances.

He was young and looked clearly important... but not at all like the arrogant heirs they were used to dealing with.

There was a quiet gravity about him. Something dangerous beneath the surface but... not cruel.

He had a terrifying aura, yes.

But he’d treated them with respect.

Now, more than ever, they wanted to know...

Who is Lucien?

•••

Lucien and Maxim walked slowly through the estate.

But with every step, a strange sense of unease crept in.

Something felt off.

Lucien couldn’t explain it. It wasn’t anything obvious.

Just a prickling instinct... like a whisper at the back of his mind.

He quietly activated Divine Sense.

He looked around.

To anyone watching, he looked like a curious kid, taking in the grandeur of the Silvermine mansion.

He glanced back toward the gate.

The guards radiated warm and pleasant colors. Trusting and genuine.

Then he looked to Maxim. His aura was clear, straightforward and easygoing. Just as Lucien expected.

But as his gaze swept the surroundings again, something caught his eye.

A color.

Foul.

Malignant.

Malicious.

He froze.

It writhed like rot beneath fresh paint. There were several of them... Dark patches among the warm hues. He blinked, deactivating Divine Sense.

And when he looked again...

They were just servants.

Older ones.

Kind faces.

Calm eyes.

They walked with practiced grace as they approached, smiles on their faces.

They greeted Maxim with cheerful warmth and gave Lucien polite nods of welcome.

Nothing seemed out of place.

Just loyal staff doing their duties.

On the surface... it was a completely normal scene.

But Lucien knew better.

Lucien activated Divine Sense once more and he...

... nearly staggered.

The malicious color was back and this time, it almost made him vomit.

It was difficult to describe.

Not just a color but something alive. It slithered between a bruised violet and a black so deep it felt like staring into the abyss. It pulsed with a sickly sheen. Oily and unnatural.

There was hunger in it.

Cruelty.

Greed.

Malice.

It wasn’t just seen... it was felt.

It whispered through his spine like cold breath or pressed into his chest like invisible hands. Worst of all, it felt like it was watching him back.

"Fuck... No wonder Clara became crazy. If I keep looking at this, I might too."

The longer he stared, the more distorted the world became.

He quickly used Inspect.

And there it was... the reason for the sickness crawling beneath his skin.

But he said nothing.

Not yet.

He glanced at Maxim who remained unaware, greeting the staff with his usual warmth.

Lucien kept his face calm and let the "servants" drift away. Their smiles never faltered.

The two continued forward with more greetings offered along the way.

Pleasant faces.

Polite bows.

But Lucien never let go of Divine Sense.

He couldn’t afford to.

At last, they stepped into the mansion... and Lucien quietly exhaled.

Relief washed over him.

The oppressive sensation from earlier faded, though not entirely. Still, the atmosphere here felt more... stable.

The interior matched the estate’s grandeur but with restraint.

The entrance hall was vast yet serene.

A tall ceiling arched overhead, where a massive chandelier hung with its delicate crystals catching the light like frozen rain.

The walls were lined with smooth vertical stone, pale gray and subtly veined.

A faint scent of lavender lingered in the air.

Lucien took it all in.

The Silvermine family’s wealth didn’t scream for attention. It whispered through every detail.

Refined.

Elegant.

Deliberate.

This wasn’t a place that flaunted power. It embodied it.

Maxim led him forward across the polished black marble floor. Their footsteps echoed faintly in the high-ceilinged hall as they climbed the sweeping staircase.

They walked down a long corridor where Maxim finally stopped in front of a large double door.

Lucien came to a halt beside him.

Maxim knocked. Firm but casual.

"Brother, it’s me. Maxim."

A pause.

Then... a deep commanding and stern voice from inside echoed.

"Enter."

Maxim glanced at Lucien and gave him a small, reassuring smile. Then, placing a hand gently on his shoulder, he pushed the door open and stepped inside, bringing Lucien with him.

Waiting for them was an older man, Edric Silvermine, seated near the room’s center.

He bore a strong resemblance to Maxim.

Same sharp features though aged with time. His beard was full but trimmed with precision.

His posture was straight and his presence composed.

But the moment he sensed Lucien...

His gaze sharpened.

There was alertness in his stance now. A subtle shift as if he felt an unfamiliar force standing beside his brother.

Lucien met his eyes, calm but cautious.

Lucien activated Divine Sense again.

And then... he saw it.

The old man’s aura was unlike any he had seen before.

A spiraling blend of light and shadow, good and evil swirling together like smoke drifting through still water.

But the dark hue wasn’t malicious. It moved with weight, not malice.

It danced with the lighter tones, not in conflict but in balance.

No struggle.

No resistance.

Just coexistence.

The lighter color shone brighter. It was steady and dominant as if it held the darker shade in place, tempering it without trying to erase it.

’Politics always stain the hands of those involved.’

Lucien thought. Not in judgment but understanding.

’This man... he isn’t evil. Just someone who’s had to make difficult choices.’

The old man studied Lucien carefully.

Then, in a deep voice laced with familiarity and subtle suspicion, he spoke.

"Max... When did you have a child?"

Maxim’s eyes widened in panic. "Wha—hey, no! You’ve got it all wrong!"

"Oh? Then did you kidnap a royal heir from a foreign nation?"

Lucien blinked.

Maxim groaned.

The two brothers exchanged sharp jabs and playful scowls like seasoned sparring partners. The tension dissolved with each sentence and Lucien found himself smiling.

It was warm.

Familiar.

Finally, they settled down and Maxim let out a sigh.

"Brother... let me properly introduce you."

He placed a hand on Lucien’s shoulder.

"This is Lucien Lootwell. He’s the son of the friends I told you about from the borderlands. He’s now the Baron."

Maxim’s voice lowered slightly, his eyes meeting his brother’s with unshakable seriousness.

"And more importantly..."

He paused.

"He’s the one who healed me... of "that" curse."

When Maxim mentioned the curse...

The effect was immediate.

Edric stood so fast his chair screeched and toppled behind him.

His heart was pounding.

"Healed?!"

In a blur, he crossed the room and grabbed Maxim’s wrist. He closed his eyes, pushing mana through the connection.

Searching. Verifying.

Then...

"HA! HAHAHAH!! Brother! It’s true! It’s really true!"

His voice cracked with disbelief and joy.

"You’re close to Tier 7 again... By the gods—it’s true! GHAHAHAHA!"

He threw his head back and laughed. The sound echoed off the marble walls. His eyes brimmed with tears as he clutched his brother’s arm.

Maxim smiled, watching him.

Lucien stood quietly beside them.

There was no fakeness here. No act.

Only a moment of genuine, overwhelming joy.