I Wrote Trash Novels to Level Up, Now Everyone Thinks I'm the Hero

A moonless night. Cold wind off the Vael-Kharas snow peaks swept across the glazed black-tiled roofs of House Vance's estate, carrying the season's first thin flurries of snow.

A small dark shape slipped across the rooftops, light as smoke, gliding over the granite parapets without a sound, without a single ripple of mana disturbing the air.

Layered Focus: Activate. Sound Cadence: Maintained. Silent Step: On.

Lucian stopped on the dome above the main hall, narrowing his eyes at the three interlocking layers of magical wards spread out before him.

The outermost layer was the crown's standard intrusion-detection net. The second was a ground-vibration sensor array Regulus had built himself. And the innermost spatial filter was lethal to outsiders — but keyed to Vance blood, so it would recognize Lucian as family rather than an intruder.

That left the real problem: getting out without triggering a household alert. Lucian had memorized every surveillance sweep, and his stealth skills were built for exactly this kind of gap.

He timed it to the instant two mana sweeps crossed, opening a blind spot roughly a foot wide, and pushed off with a light bend of his knees. The ten-year-old's small frame threaded through the gap like a strand of silk, landing softly on the windowsill of his father's study.

Slipping past the latch, Lucian eased into the room, his footsteps never touching the floor as he crossed straight to the desk.

He opened the second drawer on the right and found exactly what he'd expected — the silver, ruby-inlaid key Regulus had "accidentally" left behind. He fit it into the lock of the small safe under the desk. A soft, satisfying click.

The safe door swung open.

Inside sat dozens of gleaming bars of pure magical gold, diamonds the size of pigeon eggs, and handfuls of pitch-black cursed gemstones.

Lucian glanced over the dazzling hoard without so much as a blink.

Gold bars were heavy, bulky, and easy for the household mages to trace with a mana-tagging seal. Only amateurs made off with bars of gold.

His small hand ignored the precious metal entirely and reached straight for the back corner, pulling out a small leather pouch.

Inside was a stack of Vance bearer notes backed by documented publishing revenue, along with three special border passes stamped in red wax with the Vance seal.

The notes were redeemable at any Vance branch on the continent, fully documented, entirely legal, and far easier to move than cursed gold.

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Lucian tucked the banknotes into the spatial ring hidden under his collar, muttering to soothe what was left of his conscience.

"I'm just collecting the royalties from Volume One that the publisher never paid the author. This is legitimate debt recovery. Not theft."

He carefully shut the safe and slipped back toward the window. He launched himself up onto the estate's outer wall, over a hundred meters high, tapped lightly off a row of anti-theft steel spikes, and landed in the dark alley beyond the grounds as light as a falling leaf.

Ting!

The system's clear chime rang out through the still night:

[Household surveillance layer bypassed without detection.]

[Silent Step proficiency increased.]

[Duration: 10 seconds → 20 seconds.]

[Mana cost reduced by 30%.]

At that same moment, on the balcony of the master bedroom on the estate's top floor—

Valeria leaned against the stone railing, a glass of deep red wine swirling in her hand. The night wind tossed her long dark hair, revealing blood-ruby eyes bright with amusement.

She watched the small dark shape leap the wall and vanish into the distant night streets.

"He moves so gracefully," Valeria said, taking a sip of wine, her voice full of a proud mother's warmth. "The way he timed those surveillance sweeps — not a heartbeat early or late. Just like when I assassinated the last Pope."

On the plush goose-down bed behind her, Sword Emperor Regulus lay dead asleep, snoring in steady, thunderous waves. Snnnrk... snnnrk...

His arms were still wrapped tight around the Volume 2 manuscript, hugging it like a body pillow, his mouth occasionally mumbling in his sleep.

"The knight... Threefold Void Fracture... so cool..."

Valeria shook her head, smiling faintly, and turned back to the vast darkness outside.

Both of them, of course, had known their son was slipping away the second he stepped out of his room. But in their minds, a child born to a Sword Emperor and a former Fourth Horseman couldn't stay locked up in a silk-lined cage forever.

Lucian wanting to go out and experience life among common folk for a few days — or hunt down that "great anonymous scholar" to study literature under him — read as nothing but a heartening sign of growth and independence.

Let the boy run off and enjoy himself for a few weeks. He'd crawl back home once he ran out of money.

At the base of the capital's western wall, the night caravan staging ground buzzed with the whinny of horses and the rattle of cartwheels.

Lucian pulled his ash-grey traveling cloak in tight and lowered his hood to hide half his face. He slipped past the busy dock workers loading and unloading cargo, then quietly climbed into the back of a wagon loaded with dry straw and coarse wool.

This particular wagon carried textile materials on a night run, headed straight for the western border without stopping at any of the mid-route checkpoints.

Creak... creak...

The crack of a leather whip snapped through the air. The heavy wagon rolled forward, easing out through the capital's fortified gates, sinking into the thick fog rolling over the trail toward the lawless territory of Oakhaven.

Leaning back against the warm pile of straw, Lucian watched the capital's spires shrink toward the horizon and let out a long, satisfied breath.

"Goodbye, cringe operas. Goodbye, soul-crushing quotes."

He closed his eyes, the corner of his mouth curving into a small smile.

"Ancient dungeon. Here I come."

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