The year was 545.
The bright afternoon sun poured over a city somewhere in the great Southland kingdom. Townspeople went about their routines, each task touched with a faint magic.
A florist conjured water with a flick of her hand to spray her plants; a builder floated to the top of an unfinished building, concrete blocks hovering in his hands. Children played in the square, laughter mingling with tiny sparks of magic dancing between their palms.
The city seemed peaceful, alive, almost comforting.
Yet beneath the streets, a darker kind of magic lingered. In the sewers, the stench of iron and decay clung to the damp walls. A hooded figure crouched over a woman's body, green eyes gleaming in the dark.
He tore flesh with almost reverent patience. Footsteps echoed faintly above. He paused, listening. A smile curled at the edge of his lips.
The city was full of prey — and tonight, he had found his feast. Every movement was precise, almost ceremonial. This was no crime to him. It was a ritual.
Far from the shadows beneath the capital's streets, life continued undisturbed. A day's journey away, a small nameless town bustled with energy.
Merchants shouted over one another, travelers wandered between stalls, and horse-drawn carriages rattled over cobblestones.
The scent of fresh bread and herbs mixed with the faint tang of magic in the air. Even the wind seemed alive, carrying whispers of power that made the hair on a young, dark-skinned boy's neck stand on end.
Dominic, short and wiry with snow-white curls and glowing navy blue eyes, darted between the crowd, weaving past vendors and travelers alike. He had a single goal: the worn book that might hold the secrets of the Monarchs. His pulse quickened as he neared the small trinket shop that promised answers.
Nearby, a young couple wandered into the store. The man held the door for his pregnant partner, the bell above jingling as they entered.
"Welcome, welcome," said the storekeeper, a round-faced man with a permanent warm smile. "You look like you've traveled far… why not pick something for your future child?"
The woman rubbed her swollen belly, smiling softly. "What do you recommend?"
"Well…" the storekeeper began, distracted by a shelf of curiosities, "there's plenty…"
Dominic crept past them, eyes glued to the bookshelves. Finally, he found it: The Tales of Great Mages. His fingers trembled as he flipped through the pages, scanning illustrations of the legendary Monarchs. He barely noticed the sound of a throat clearing until it froze him in place.
"Hi," he said, voice shaking.
"Hello, Dominic," the storekeeper said, towering over him. His polite smile was strained, controlled, a mask over patience.
Before Dominic could react, he was lifted telepathically and dropped outside.
"Come on, man! I'm super broke. Can't I just have it?"
"No," said the storekeeper coldly.
"You stupid bald cheapskate!" Dominic yelled, his white eyebrows twitching in frustration.
The storekeeper stopped, a flash of sunlight reflecting on his smooth bald head, just as a fist smacked Dominic's head. Behind him, a tall man appeared.
"Pops," Dominic groaned, rubbing the ache.
"You dumb-ass," Pops muttered, lightly tapping him again. "Let's go. I'm really sorry about him," he added, bowing slightly to the storekeeper.
The merchant huffed, glancing back at the couple browsing. "Just… make sure it doesn't happen again." He left, muttering under his breath.
Dominic's cheeks burned with shame, but inside, a spark of determination flickered. I'll get that book one day…
Twenty minutes later, Dominic scrubbed dishes in a small, humble restaurant. The tang of oil and baked bread filled the air. Pops moved efficiently around the kitchen, memorizing orders from a passing teen.
Dominic hesitated. "Are you mad?"
"Yes and no," Pops said, moving a pot to the stove. "I'm mad you snuck out for a book… and mad I couldn't just buy it for you. Also, you're starting to sound like me."
Dominic frowned. "Sorry."
Pops exhaled, smoke curling around him. "It's not your fault. I'm not exactly father material."
Dominic considered that as he scrubbed a plate. He's not perfect, but he's the closest thing I've got. "Well… I'm happy you're taking care of me. That orphanage looked awful."
"It's okay. Despite rough edges, you're a good kid," Pops said, tapping his cigarette against the stove.
They worked through the evening, talking about Monarchs, affinities, and Dominic's burning ambitions.
"Why do you like that book so much anyway?" Pops asked, sweeping the floor.
"Because it talks about the Monarchs," Dominic replied, eyes glowing faintly with excitement.
Pops rolled his eyes. "Of course it does," he said, pulling a cigarette from his pack and immediately noticing Dominic's glare. "Chill. It's just my third one today, scout's honor."
Dominic made a face. "I don't know why you love that thing so much. It smells like burnt shit."
"You're too young to understand," Pops scoffed. "So… the Monarchs. You still want to be one?"
"Not just any Monarch," Dominic said, carrying a mop bucket across the floor. "Commander."
Pops exhaled smoke, eyes fixed on the ceiling. "Ethan Maximus… the Mage Emperor, huh."
"I'm going to surpass him and become the greatest knight in history," Dominic said, setting the mop down and picking up a damp rag.
Pops looked at him curiously. "I still don't get why you even want to be a soldier. The war ended 35 years ago. You don't need to fight."
Dominic smiled. "Knights aren't part of the Royal Army. Wars aren't the only thing they do. They save people from thieves, monsters, and natural accidents. They're real-life superheroes."
Pops let out a puff of smoke. "But the Monarchs are an exclusive group. No replacement since the originals."
"I know," Dominic said, dipping the rag into a bowl of water. "But the Dragon's retiring soon. There'll be slots for new ones."
"You're not the only one thinking like that, kid. Competing against countless soldiers and royal bloods, especially if you're going for the very top."
"I know," Dominic smirked. "And I'm going to beat them all."
Pops grinned. "That's my boy."
Dominic glanced out the window at children playing with magic. "It still sucks I don't have an affinity yet."
Pops frowned. "A mage's affinity usually shows around six. You're ten now, friends unlocked theirs long ago. You feel left behind."
Dominic's fists tightened. "Yeah."
"Don't worry. Everyone's different. Some early, some late. But it will show." Pops shrugged, pointing at him. "Even the Dragon got his at eighteen."
"And became a Monarch at twenty," Dominic added.
"It didn't matter when it appeared," Pops said. "What matters is how you train it."
Dominic nodded. Then I'll train harder than anyone.
"Besides," Pops continued, "getting that affinity doesn't mean shit if you don't put in the work. Talent only gets you so far."
Dominic smiled. "I still wonder why you left the army. You sound like a Squad Captain."
"That's because I was," Pops said, eyes darkening.
"You never told me."
"You never asked," Pops said, extinguishing the cigarette.
"Why quit?" Dominic pressed.
"You're too young to understand. War… changes people. Once you see it, you'd want to disappear too."
Dominic stared at him, conflicted. "I won't give up. No matter what I see."
Pops laughed. "We'll see about that."
They finished cleaning, locked up, and headed home.
Meanwhile, in the woods outside town, two hunters were on their way back home, carrying their captured prey in blood-stained sacks as they chatted. Their deep voices were the only source of life in the silent forest.
Until a certain cloaked figure stumbled out of the shadows and fell on their path.
"Hey." The first hunter said as he quickly approached the man with his friend right behind him. He pulled the man up onto his back. "What the hell were you doing out here…" That's when he saw the dried blood on the man's cloak.
Slowly, he turned to look at the man. His hood showered his face in thick darkness, his identity hidden… except for his eerie, green glowing eyes.
Before the hunter could react, green mana erupted, slicing through him.
The second hunter froze, horrified. His partner's blood crept along the soil as he stumbled back, weapon and prey abandoned.
As the killer stood, the second hunter immediately fled, but he barely made it three steps before a mana strike cleaved him apart.
The forest floor eagerly drank the silence that followed, as if seeking to hide the secret.
The cloaked figure crouched, inspecting the carnage. A slow smile spread beneath the hood. "Lucky me," he whispered, tongue dragging across his lips as if savoring the taste already.
Unseen by Dominic, the shadow of that killer had drawn closer to his world.