Reincarnated with SSS-Rank Trait and Unique Ability-Chapter 12: Unexpected Letter

"Too fast!"

The thought barely had time to form before the shimmering Jian sliced through the air at a speed Ares couldn't even comprehend. It was faster than anything he'd ever seen—even faster than any strikes he had seen from his mentor. His eyes simply couldn't track it.

But before he could process what was happening—and before the blade could reach its mark—another weapon flashed into existence, seemingly out of thin air.

Clang!

The sharp ring of metal clashing against metal sent a shiver down Ares's spine.

His eyes widened. They followed the second blade and landed on the person wielding it.

There stood his mentor, his Soul Weapon drawn, a shadow darkening his face.

"Ah, Nicholas," the prince said, a sly grin curling across his lips. "Have you come to watch our spar?"

"No. I did not," Nicholas replied, his tone ice-cold. "I came to give you my answer."

The prince lowered his weapon, and as he did, the blade dissolved into glowing blue particles before vanishing entirely.

Nicholas did the same.

Ares, however, remained still—his grip tight around his own weapon, eyes clouded with thought.

"That speed... How can the gap be so vast when we're both Intermediate Rank? What kind of enchantment was that?!"

But his reflection was short-lived. The prince's voice snapped him back to the present.

"Well then, will you join me?" the prince asked, his gaze locked on Nicholas.

The young soldier gave a single, silent nod.

Ares barely registered the conversation. His heart still thundered in his chest, the memory of that near-death moment drowning out the prince's voice.

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"What would've happened if Nicholas hadn't shown up? Would the prince have pulled back... or—" He forced the thought away.

"Too weak," Ares thought bitterly, the scene replaying in his mind.

The weight of that truth settled deep in his bones.

"Good," the prince said, turning on his heel with a grace so fluid it seemed even the air followed his movement. "Then we move at noon."

Nicholas remained silent, his eyes trailing the prince until he disappeared from view. Then, without a word, he walked past Ares—pausing only long enough to place a hand on his shoulder.

"You did well," Nicholas murmured, just loud enough for Ares to hear. "Don't beat yourself up too much. The prince isn't an easy opponent. He's said to be nearing Expert Rank."

Nicholas lingered a moment longer, his hand steady on Ares's shoulder.

And then, without another word, he was gone—fading from sight like a phantom.

Only now did Ares release his Soul Weapon, his gaze following the blade as it dissolved into particles of light and vanished.

That's when it hit him.

A dull pain bloomed in his abdomen—not excruciating, but persistent, like a warning knock from within.

"Tskk," he hissed, wrapping an arm around his stomach.

He could feel it.

His mana was gone.

It had happened once before, back when his grandfather had been there to catch him—right before launching into a long lecture about the dangers of pushing beyond your limits.

Every core had its threshold. And though it was built from mana, it was not inexhaustible. When the mana runs out, the body begins to draw mana from the core itself.

In the best-case scenario, recovery was possible. In the worst? The core shatters—and with it, the ability to wield mana ever again.

Fortunately, this wasn't one of those times.

Ares had only just hit the bottom of his reserves.

With no more battles ahead today, he slowly straightened his back—wincing at the pain—and began the long walk home.

He moved in silence. Each step felt heavier than the last, his legs dragging as if weighed down by the thoughts swirling in his mind. The prince's terrifying enchantment, Nicholas' sudden appearance, and that chilling moment when death had seemed inevitable.

By the time he realized where he was, he was already standing in front of his house.

The wooden frame looked the same as ever—warm, familiar, unmoving—an anchor in a day full of chaos. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and stepped inside.

"Ares!" his mother called the moment he crossed the threshold. "Where have you been?"

He opened his mouth to respond, but she didn't give him the chance.

"You know what, never mind. Look at this!"

She held up an envelope—white paper trimmed with intricate gold patterns. A crimson wax seal pressed it shut, gleaming under the light.

Something about it made Ares's exhaustion vanish for a moment, replaced by curiosity... and unease.

"A messenger came to deliver it just now. It has a royal seal!" his mother exclaimed, her eyes narrowing as she caught the perplexed expression on his face.

"Did you do something I should know about?"

A worrying look crossed her face.

"Huh?" Ares snapped out of his thoughts, his mind scrambling for a response.

"No. Of course not, mother," he said, offering a faint smile to hide his growing discomfort.

He reached out, taking the envelope from her hand. With a swift, practiced movement, he broke the seal and picked up the neatly folded paper.

The elegant script on the page seemed to pulse with a weight of its own, each word carrying a quiet, undeniable significance.

***

"To the esteemed Headmaster of Lotius Academy,

I, Prince Damon, hereby recommend Ares, House Unknown, for admission to Lotius Academy, effective immediately.

His abilities have been witnessed by me and shall not be questioned.

Regards,

Prince Damon"

***

Ares read it once.

Then again.

And a third time.

Each word dug deeper into his mind.

He stared at the letter, a deep frown pulling at his brow.

"Well?" his mother asked, arms crossed, foot tapping against the wooden floor.

"It's a recommendation," Ares muttered, holding the letter out for her to see.

She snatched it from his hand and scanned the contents quickly. Her eyes widened, and a radiant smile lit up her face.

But Ares didn't share her joy.

Lotius Academy.

The very place he had once dreamed of attending.

A dream that was buried ever since his father's passing.

And now, out of nowhere, a royal recommendation? From Prince Damon—the very person he had just sparred with?

Why?

What was the prince planning?

Was this a gesture of genuine kindness... or a calculated move on a board Ares didn't even know he was a part of?

His mind swirled with questions, doubt crept in like a heavy fog.

"Ares..." his mother whispered, stepping closer. She wrapped her arms around him, the letter still crinkling in her grasp.

"This is great news," she said, her voice trembling slightly, a mixture of excitement and disbelief.

Ares hugged her back, but his eyes stayed fixed on the letter, even as it crinkled in her grasp.

He wasn't sure what this letter meant, but he was almost certain—it wasn't as great news as his mother believed it to be.