Aric sat upright in bed, his mind still reeling from the chaos of the previous hours. His gaze flicked to the glowing screen where Ivy stood, her red hair shimmering faintly against the void-like background. 

Well if Ivy didn't give me answers, that means she doesn't know either, I guess I should do something else to figure out where the hell am I and what I am.

"Alright." he muttered under his breath.

"You said something about… Creation Magic?" He glanced down at his hands, which now felt charged with an energy he couldn't quite comprehend. It wasn't fire or lightning—it was something else entirely.

Raw possibility, waiting to be shaped by thought alone.

Ivy. he called mentally,

What exactly does 'Creation Magic' mean? If I imagine something, will it just… appear?

[In theory, yes.] Ivy's voice echoed smoothly in his mind with amusement.

[But don't get too excited. Even EX-tier potential doesn't mean instant mastery. You'll need practice—and caution.]

Practice and caution. Aric repeated dryly, flexing his fingers experimentally. A small spark of light flickered in his palm before sputtering out. He frowned, unimpressed.

So I'm basically a toddler playing with matches right now?

[Oh, darling.] Ivy teased, leaning casually against the digital frame.

[Even toddlers grow up eventually. And when they do… well, let's just say you won't be lighting candles anymore.]

Aric smirked. There was something oddly comforting about Ivy's presence—her snarky humour and unwavering confidence acted as a counterbalance to the storm brewing inside him. But comfort could only distract him for so long.

Questions lingered, heavy and pressing.

Deciding he needed answers and fresh air. Aric swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. The plush carpet beneath his feet muffled his steps as he made his way toward the door. With each step, the weight of uncertainty grew heavier on his shoulders.

Who was Vayne Arkwright? What kind of monster had he been? And why did everyone seem so terrified of him?

As soon as he stepped into the hallway, the atmosphere shifted dramatically. Maids and butlers who had been chatting animatedly fell silent, their conversations dying mid-sentence. Heads bowed low, avoiding eye contact as if they were afraid even glancing at him might incur wrath.

One particularly nervous-looking butler approached cautiously, wringing his hands together like he was holding onto a lifeline.

"M-Master Vayne" he stammered, bowing deeply.

"Forgive me for disturbing you. I'll fetch your breakfast immediately."

Before Aric could respond, the man scurried off, disappearing around a corner. Confusion settled over Aric like a thick fog.

Was this how Vayne treated people? Did they expect cruelty simply because of who—or what—he used to be?

He shook his head, pushing aside the unease gnawing at him. For now, he focused on exploring the palace.

Perhaps understanding this new environment would give me some clarity.

The hallway stretched endlessly before him, lined with intricate golden moldings and towering windows that bathed the space in soft sunlight. Each pane of glass was etched with delicate patterns resembling vines curling upward toward the sky. Expensive tapestries adorned the walls, depicting scenes of battles long past, royal ceremonies, and serene landscapes painted with such precision that they almost seemed alive.

Aric ran a hand along the polished mahogany railing of the walkway, marvelling at its craftsmanship. Every detail screamed wealth and power—the kind reserved for those at the very top of society. He wondered absently how many rooms this place contained.

Dozens? Hundreds? How could one family possibly need so much space?

His footsteps echoed softly as he moved forward, taking in the sheer extravagance surrounding him. The decorations weren't merely ornamental; they told stories. Stories of conquest, alliances, betrayal. He paused briefly to examine a painting of two knights locked in combat, their swords clashing in a fiery explosion of sparks.

Beneath it, an inscription read: "Honour Above All."

Honour. Aric thought bitterly. I doubt Vayne knew the meaning of the word.

Eventually, he reached a grand staircase spiralling downward. Four flights, each more opulent than the last. Crystal chandeliers hung suspended above, casting prismatic rainbows across the marble floors. Gilded railings gleamed under the light, while statues of mythical creatures stood guard at every landing.

With each descending step, Aric became increasingly aware of how disconnected he felt from this world.

This palace wasn't home—it was a monument to someone else's legacy. Someone who had squandered it spectacularly, judging by her anger.

By the time he reached the ground floor, the scale of the mansion hit him like a punch to the gut. The central hall was cavernous, dominated by a massive crystal chandelier that looked like it belonged in a cathedral.

Paintings covered nearly every inch of wall space, their subjects ranging from stern-faced ancestors to vibrant depictions of fantastical beasts. In the center of the room stood a portrait of Vayne and Seraphina, larger-than-life and framed in gold. Their names were plated there, Seraphina Arkwright and Vayne Arkwright.

Aric stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the portrait. Vayne—no, he —looked younger here, his features softer, less hardened by whatever sins had defined his later years. Beside him stood Seraphina, radiant in a flowing gown that accentuated her curves. Her silver hair cascaded over one shoulder, framing her face perfectly.

Together, they looked every bit the picture-perfect noble couple.

But there was something unsettling about their expressions. Vayne wore a smug smirk, his arm possessively draped around Seraphina's waist. She, on the other hand, gazed off slightly to the side, her blue eyes distant and cold despite the smile tugging at her lips.

Aric grumbled under his breath, tilting his head slightly.

Why is it that this douchebag, I'm guessing I am the douchebag—and me—have one thing in common? He paused dramatically, scratching the back of his neck.

We both somehow managed to piss off insanely hot women.

He continued wandering through the halls. The architecture grew even more elaborate as he ventured deeper into the mansion. Arches adorned with floral carvings led to sprawling corridors filled with antique furniture and priceless artifacts. He counted at least twelve archways branching off in different directions, each promising another labyrinthine path to explore.

It wasn't long before he found himself hopelessly lost near what appeared to be an observatory wing. The ceiling here was domed, painted with constellations that sparkled faintly as though infused with magic. Telescopes and celestial charts littered the room, hinting at a fascination with astronomy—or perhaps astrology though that's not a real thing.

Aric leaned against a nearby table, letting out a slow breath.

This place is absurd. Beautiful, yes—but overwhelming. Like stepping into someone else's dream, only to realize it was a nightmare disguised as paradise.

As Aric took in the observatory, a strange sensation prickled at the edge of his awareness.

Something about this room felt… wrong. Not dangerous, necessarily, but off. As if the stars painted on the ceiling were watching me.

[I wouldn't linger too long there if I were you.] Ivy chimed in suddenly, her tone unusually serious

[There are secrets buried in places like this. Secrets best left undisturbed.]

Aric raised an eyebrow, turning his attention back to the starry dome.

Secrets, huh? Guess I'll add that to the growing list of things I don't understand.

With a final glance at the glittering constellations, he turned and headed back toward the main hall.