Second Choice Noble Son: Apparently I’m Stronger Than the Summoned Heroes

(Elara’s POV)

The courtyard was quiet after dusk — the best time to train.

No chatter. No spectators. Just the soft hum of mana through my blade and the rhythm of my own breathing.

I focused on my form — fluid, clean, disciplined.

Each swing drew a faint arc of cyan light, cutting the air with perfect control.

I wasn’t chasing speed anymore. I was chasing stillness.

But peace never lasted long here.

The sound of boots pounding stone broke through the night.

Too fast. Too angry. Too familiar.

“Elara!”

I froze mid-swing.

Only one person shouted my name like that — full of both admiration and fury.

Seris.

She appeared at the far end of the yard, her hair loose, eyes wild, her uniform half-unbuttoned like she’d run through half the academy.

“Elara!” she shouted again, voice shaking.

I sighed, lowering my sword. “Seris, what are you doing out here?”

“What am I doing?” she snapped, marching closer. “I should be asking you that!”

“I’m training.”

“Training?” Her voice cracked. “It’s the end of term! Everyone’s leaving — we’re supposed to leave!” New ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄhapters are published on novel•fire.net

I sheathed my blade calmly. “Not me.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re staying?”

I nodded. “The academy needs instructors for the new class. It’s good experience, and I can keep working on my form. You know that.”

Seris’ hands balled into fists. “You’re always working on your form! Always training, always perfecting! For what, Elara? You’re already better than everyone here!”

Her words hit harder than I wanted them to.

But I kept my expression cold. “That’s not true.”

“It is!” she shouted. “And you still won’t go home— won’t see your family, won’t see him—”

The last word cracked in her throat.

Rooga.

I closed my eyes for a moment. “Seris…”

“No!” she said, voice trembling. “You don’t get to say my name like that — not when you’re the one keeping me from seeing him!”

I opened my mouth, then stopped.

That was the real reason.

This wasn’t about me.

It was about him.

“You’re going back,” I said quietly.

“Yes!”

“Then go,” I said. “But don’t drag me into it.”

Her anger faltered. “You… don’t care?”

I turned away, my voice flat. “It’s better if I don’t.”

For a moment, there was only silence.

Then Seris’s voice came again — smaller, trembling.

“Why?”

I didn’t answer immediately.

Because if I did, I’d have to say it out loud — that I was afraid.

That every time I thought of going home, I saw blood and my brother’s broken body.

So I gave her the answer that hurt less.

“Because I have nothing to go back to right now.”

Her face twisted, somewhere between rage and heartbreak.

“That’s a lie. You have him. You have them.”

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I met her eyes finally, my voice low but firm.

“I have guilt, Seris. That’s all I have.”

She stepped closer, eyes gleaming with anger. “Then I’ll go in your place.”

“You’ll what?”

“I’ll go to the Borderlands,” she said, her tone hardening into resolve. “If you won’t see him, then I will.”

I stepped forward so fast she actually flinched.

“No, you won’t.”

She looked up at me, defiant. “You can’t stop me.”

“I will stop you,” I said coldly. “That place isn’t what you think it is. It’s not your fantasy. It’s not a playground for you to chase your feelings.”

Seris’s jaw trembled, but she didn’t back down.

“I’ve waited long enough. I’m not like you — I don’t want to get stronger just to be alone!”

The air between us buzzed with mana.

Her emotions flared like fire — raw, hot, desperate.

Mine stayed cold and steady, like tempered steel.

We stood only a few steps apart, two sides of the same wound.

“You don’t understand what you’re walking into,” I said quietly.

“Then explain it!” she shouted. “Explain why you’re so afraid to go home!”

I hesitated.

Because how do you tell someone that home was the place where you nearly killed your own brother?

“Because,” I whispered finally, “I don’t deserve to stand beside him yet.”

Seris stared at me for a long moment, her fury softening into something smaller — something sad.

Then she looked away, her voice shaking.

“I don’t care what you deserve,” she said. “I’m going.”

I sighed, shaking my head. “You’re stubborn.”

“You taught me to be.”

That stung more than it should have.

I watched her turn and walk away, her steps uneven but determined.

I could’ve stopped her — a single spell would’ve been enough.

But I didn’t.

Because maybe some lessons couldn’t be taught.

Only lived.

(Seris Revingale’s POV)

The moon still hung low over Asterion when I woke, the academy bell tolling softly in the distance.

Most of the students had already left the day before. The dorms were quiet now — too quiet — their walls echoing with the ghosts of laughter and goodbyes.

My trunk sat by the door, packed and sealed.

But this time, I wasn’t sneaking away.

I was leaving as a noble — a daughter of Revingale, head held high.

And I was going where I belonged.

To him.

The carriage waiting for me gleamed with the Revingale crest, silver vines carved into its sides.

Two attendants stood nearby, cloaked and armed, their expressions polite but distant.

Even the horses looked expensive enough to make commoners stop and stare.

Father insisted on a full escort.

He said it would be “unseemly for a Revingale to travel alone without a formal purpose.”

He didn’t know my purpose, of course.

If he did, he’d have burned the invitation himself.

I smiled bitterly as I stepped into the carriage.

“Proper reason,” he said.

I didn’t need a reason.

I had a name.

Rooga.

The carriage jolted into motion, and the academy’s white spires faded behind us.

I looked down at the letter on my lap — creased and worn from too much folding.

I’d rewritten it half a dozen times over the past few weeks, but no version ever felt right.

To Rooga,

It’s been another year. You’ve probably grown taller again. Everyone says your land is a miracle now — flowers blooming in winter, crops that never die. I want to see it for myself. I want to see you.

I crumpled it in my fist.

What was I supposed to write, really? I’ve been counting days until I could see you again? I hate that your sister gets to be near you while I’m trapped here pretending not to care?

No. Letters couldn’t hold what I felt.

Only being there could.

As we rode through the city gates, I caught the faint sound of my escorts whispering.

“…she’s really going to the Borderlands?”

“Apparently visiting the Valemonts.”

“Why not her family estate?”

“Who knows? Maybe she’s after that Valemont boy. The younger one — what was his name again?”

Their laughter was quiet, but it burned.

I wanted to snap at them, to remind them that Revingales didn’t gossip.

But I stayed silent.

Because they weren’t wrong.

Yes, I was going for him.

Yes, it was reckless.

But what did propriety ever give me except empty halls and colder winters?

We stopped by midday at the fork where the paved road split toward three regions: the eastern trade routes, the Asterion plains, and — straight ahead — the Borderlands.

One of the escorts, a man named Varin, dismounted and turned to me.

“Lady Seris, I must ask again,” he said carefully. “You are certain of this destination? The Borderlands aren’t under Asterion’s jurisdiction anymore. It’s… unpredictable.”

I met his gaze without hesitation. “I’m certain.”

He bowed. “Very well. We’ll continue until dusk. But once we cross the outer line, we’ll need permission from the Valemonts to proceed.”

“I’ll handle that.”

He nodded, though the doubt in his eyes was clear.

I leaned back in my seat as the carriage started moving again.

Every turn of the wheels felt like the ticking of a clock — each second drawing me closer to him.

By the time the sun began to fall, we reached the old trade road that led into Valemont territory.

I’d seen it before in my childhood — cracked, wild, lined with barren trees.

But now…

Now it glowed.

The path was clean, the air thick with mana, and the trees shimmered faintly with light even in twilight.

The land itself pulsed with life.

I could almost feel it humming under the wheels.

One of the guards muttered a quiet prayer.

Another simply stared in awe.

I smiled faintly.

This was his world.

Even without seeing him yet, I could feel him in everything — in the flowers by the roadside, in the wind that carried warmth instead of dust.

We’d stop soon for the night, but I couldn’t rest.

My thoughts swirled too fast — excitement, fear, longing.

Would he even remember me?

Would he smile the same way?

Would he still care?

I pressed my hand against my chest.

“Of course he will,” I whispered. “He always will.”

The attendants didn’t hear.

They wouldn’t have understood anyway.

This wasn’t just a journey.

It was a return — not to a place, but to him.

And no matter how many rules or names stood between us, I was done waiting.