His parents noticed the transformation immediately. Their son no longer rose at four—he studied until four. The medieval knights adorning his walls disappeared, replaced by charts of legal precedents and constitutional amendments. They exchanged worried glances in the hallway, their whispered conversations outside his door a mixture of relief and concern.

Mike wasn't broken—he'd simply shifted battlegrounds. Ten years of relentless sword training had forged more than muscle; it had tempered his focus into something terrifying. Where once he'd practiced a single strike a thousand times under the merciless sun, now he devoured case studies until dawn broke. Algebra equations became combat sequences to dismantle. Historical conflicts transformed into tactical problems requiring strategic foresight. Within months, his abysmal grades metamorphosed into a string of perfect As that left teachers speechless.


The family dinner discussing college majors crackled with tension. His father, tumbler of scotch in hand, made his case for business school. "Business is warfare without bullets, son. Your mind is built for it." His mother gently suggested history or philosophy—safe, respectable paths for a young man with his intellect.

"I'm studying law." Mike's voice wasn't raised, but it carried the unmistakable weight of decision already made.

"Law?" His father's frown deepened. "Why? Those sharks will say anything to win, twist any truth for a dollar. That's not justice—it's commerce." His mother nodded. "You're too principled for that world, Mike."


Mike met their eyes, speaking with a maturity that startled them both. "Graystone didn't teach me the sword so I could kill. He taught me to protect. He said a blade should serve only justice." His fingers brushed the worn cover of his law book. "In this century, justice isn't defended with steel. It's defended with this."

His parents fell silent. They recognized the fire in his eyes—the same unwavering light that had burned when he'd stood in the yard, wooden sword in hand. The argument was over before it began.


Throughout college, Mike became a ghost. While fraternity houses roared with weekend revelry, he haunted the law library's quietest corners. Social life evaporated as he immersed himself in criminal defense and constitutional law. He developed an almost fanatical interest in self-defense statutes, necessity doctrines, and citizen's arrest provisions—as though honing an invisible blade and crafting its perfect scabbard.

In 2011, Mike graduated summa cum laude from Harvard Law. Before the ink dried on his diploma, elite firms from Wall Street to K Street circled like predators, dangling starting salaries that made his classmates salivate.