Online Game: Starting With SSS-Ranked Summons-Chapter 253: Legendary Skill, Orbit.

[You have received the skill <Orbit>]

Arthur smiled at the skill, expanding its status to see the details. And... he wasn't surprised at how powerful it was.

—

<Orbit>

<Rank: Legendary>

<Active>

<Description: Create a gravitational field around yourself or a designated target, causing objects to orbit at varying distances and speeds. The gravitational pull can be precisely controlled, allowing for attraction or repulsion of specific objects without affecting others in the same field. Can manipulate up to 20 objects simultaneously, with effects lasting until dismissed. The field has no cooldown and solely depends on your mana reserves.>

—

"Perfect," Arthur whispered, already imagining the applications of his new skill.

The memory of the cosmic display still burned bright in his mind—stars and planets dancing in gravitational harmony, black holes twisting the very fabric of space-time.

This skill wouldn't let him manipulate celestial bodies, of course, but it offered control over smaller-scale gravitational effects.

Arthur closed the skill description. The obsidian pillar still stood before him; he had passed the pillar's test.

[Congratulations. You have passed the qualifying test. You now have the qualifications to enter 'Regulus's Vengeance']

"Huh? Regulus's vengeance? What does that mean... is he like some evil spirit now?" Arthur was able to mutter before he was once again teleported.

The world dissolved around him, reality rearranging itself before settling back into focus. Arthur's vision adjusted to find himself in what appeared to be the same courtyard he'd just left.

"I felt the teleportation. I'm definitely not in the same place. But why is it exactly the same? Are there multiple gardens like this?" he muttered, scanning his surroundings with suspicion.

The layout was identical—the same flowering trees, the same small stream, even the same pattern of stones along the garden path. But something felt different. The air carried scents of cooking food and woodsmoke rather than the purely floral notes of before.

Before Arthur could investigate further, a woman's voice called out across the garden.

"Regulus, honey! Come here, the food is ready!"

The voice was gentle yet strong, filled with that particular warmth that only a mother's call can carry. It echoed across the garden from a small wooden house at the edge of the clearing that Arthur hadn't noticed before—or perhaps hadn't existed in the version of the garden he'd occupied.

"Alright mom, I'll be there soon!" a young voice replied.

Arthur turned toward the sound, finding a boy of perhaps twelve years standing in the middle of the garden.

'He hadn't been there a moment ago.'

The boy was hunched over, hands resting on his knees as he caught his breath. His hair was pure gray despite his youth, an unusual color that matched his eyes perfectly. His face was flushed with exertion, his expression a mixture of frustration and determination that seemed too intense for a child.

A small magic staff was clutched in his right hand, its tip still glowing faintly with recently cast magic.

"Damn it," he cursed in a low tone, glancing around as if to ensure his mother hadn't heard such language.

"When will I be able to master this talent..." he whispered, his gaze falling to a small rock on the ground. From the boy's defeated posture, he had clearly failed at doing what he wanted.

He straightened, eyes hardening with resolve that seemed out of place on such a young face.

"The ceremony is soon. To change my family's fate... I must master it."

The heavy weight of responsibility in those words made Arthur's chest tighten unexpectedly. Something about the boy's determination struck a familiar chord—the desperate drive of someone trying to alter a path that seemed predetermined.

The boy—Regulus, Arthur presumed—tucked the staff carefully inside his pocket and turned toward the small wooden house. As he walked, his shoulders squared, chin lifting as if putting on a brave face for whoever waited inside.

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Arthur stood motionless, knowing he couldn't interact with this scene. This was a memory, a replay of events long past.

He was merely a witness to history unfolding.

The boy hesitated at the doorway, taking a deep breath as if preparing for a performance. Then his posture changed, the weight seeming to lift from his small shoulders as a bright smile replaced his serious expression.

"Coming, Mom!" he called, his voice deliberately lighter, more childlike than the determined whispers from moments ago.

'He is hiding his struggles from her,' Arthur realized. This child was shouldering burdens he didn't want his mother to see.

As Regulus disappeared into the house, the scene began to shift around Arthur. Colors faded slightly, time accelerating as shadows lengthened across the garden. Day was turning rapidly to evening.

The door to the house opened again, and Regulus emerged.

"The Academy only accepts one scholarship student from the outer districts each year. This is my chance," he muttered, his small face set with determination beyond his years. "I can't sleep while others are training. I can always be stronger, faster... better."

He walked back to the same spot where he had been practicing earlier, the soft glow of moonlight illuminating his silver hair. The staff in his hand seemed to pulse with his determination as he took his stance.

Arthur watched in silence as the boy trained through the night. Hour after hour, Regulus repeated the same motions, perfecting each gesture, each incantation. When he failed—and he failed often—he would clench his jaw, wipe away tears of frustration, and begin again.

No breaks. No rest. Just relentless, punishing dedication.

His small hands became blistered from gripping the staff. His voice grew hoarse from repeating incantations. Twice he collapsed from exhaustion, only to force himself back to his feet minutes later.

As dawn's first light crept over the horizon, painting the garden in soft gold, Regulus finally allowed himself to stop. His shoulders sagged with fatigue, his steps unsteady as he slowly crept back to the small house, careful not to wake his mother as he slipped inside.

Arthur watched with mixed emotions. The boy's drive struck a chord within him—that desperate hunger to improve, to overcome, to transform weakness into strength. He recognized it because he'd lived it.

'He looks 10? Maybe younger...' Arthur thought, a heaviness settling in his chest.

Children should be playing, protected from the harsh realities of the world. Yet here was Regulus, already shouldering burdens that would crush most adults.

Just like Arthur had once done.

Time accelerated again, the garden cycling through seasons in moments—summer flowers wilting, autumn leaves falling, winter snow covering the ground, spring bringing renewal. The trees grew slightly taller, the house weathered further.

When time resumed its normal flow, Arthur found himself watching as Regulus walked toward the house, clutching a scroll in his hand. The boy seemed taller, perhaps a year older than in the previous vision, but the most striking difference was his expression—pure, unbridled joy illuminated his face.

"Mom! Mom!" Regulus called, his voice cracking with excitement.