Mortheum Kingdom, a realm made up of dozens of cities, including Hoeim City.
A city surrounded by vast wilderness, protected by towering stone walls that shielded its people.
Buildings of solid marble, painted in various colors, formed the foundation of every structure within Hoeim City. Rain poured from the dark clouds above, soaking the cobbled streets where horse-drawn carriages moved along.
The townsfolk walked through the rainfall beneath their umbrellas. At the very heart of the city stood a statue of a man wielding a sword, carved with dignity and grandeur. At the base of the statue, an inscription etched into stone read: Arthur the Hero.
Arthur was a legendary champion who once saved humanity from the apocalypse. According to ancient tales, Arthur defended mankind against the cruel Demon King, fighting alongside his loyal companions.
But that tale was from thousands of years ago, and over time, the story of the hero became no more than folklore, passed down through generations.
Not far from Arthur's statue stood a grand mansion—the residence of one of Hoeim City's noble families: the Ethuida household.
The head of the family, Bara Ethuida, was a swordsman of great renown, respected by all who knew his name.
Bara had two wives. From his first wife, he fathered three children. From his second wife, he had only one son—Isama Ethuida.
Tragedy struck when Bara's second wife was found dead in her chamber. No one knew whether she had been murdered or whether some darker fate had befallen her. For young Isama, only twelve years old at the time, the incident left a heavy scar upon his heart.
Grief weakened his frail body further, and as the years passed, his condition only worsened. By the age of seventeen, Isama could no longer attend the Sirion Academy like his siblings. Instead, he remained confined to his room, staring longingly out the window while life outside passed him by.
That day, Isama wore a white nobleman's long-sleeved attire paired with black trousers. His pale face and weary eyes gazed through the glass at the rain that fell freely from the skies. His messy black hair hung down to his shoulders, framing his thin, fragile body that stood straight yet seemed so frail.
"Master Isama, your meal is ready," said a young blonde-haired maid in a servant's uniform, bowing politely behind him.
"Let's go," Isama replied softly in his weak voice to his personal maid.
That maid was Olivia, assigned by Bara Ethuida to remain by Isama's side at all times. She was the same age as him.
Following Olivia's announcement, Isama began walking slowly toward the dining room, his steps echoed by Olivia's soft footsteps behind him. They passed through long corridors decorated with white and gold ornaments that glistened elegantly beneath the lamps.
Finally, they arrived at the dining hall—only for Olivia to freeze in shock.
The meal she had carefully prepared for Isama was already gone, devoured by none other than Beirtho Ethuida, Isama's third brother.
"Lord Beirtho! That food was meant for Lord Isama!" Olivia shouted, her voice trembling with anger.
Beirtho sat smugly, his muscular frame and broad shoulders contrasting with his casual attire. His large, glaring eyes and short black hair gave him a menacing presence.
"Lord Beirtho was hungry, so he ate everything," sneered a servant standing behind him, clad in servant's garb. His name was Loco, Beirtho's personal attendant.
"And besides," Beirtho added with disdain, glaring at the empty plate, "I had no choice but to eat this garbage anyway."
Olivia clenched her fists, fury welling up inside her at their insults.
"Master, let me report this to the head of the family," she said, her voice sharp with anger.
"Go ahead. What's the point of preparing meals for someone who's going to die soon anyway? Hahaha!" Beirtho laughed cruelly, mocking Isama.
Isama, hearing those words, lowered his head. They stung—but they also carried a bitter truth. His body truly was frail.
Olivia's anger boiled over, but before she could leave, Isama gently raised his weak hand to stop her.
"There's no need," he whispered.
"I'm not hungry anyway," he added with a faint smile, trying to ease her frustration. He didn't want his father burdened with more conflict.
Olivia's heart ached at the sight of his forced smile. Time and again, Isama endured his siblings' cruelty in silence.
"I'll head to the library," Isama said quietly before leaving the dining hall.
"Yes, Master," Olivia replied, bowing sadly.
"Go on then, you walking corpse! Hahaha!" Beirtho jeered as Isama left the room.
...
The Ethuida family library was Isama's sanctuary. In its silence, surrounded by shelves of books, he found a rare sense of peace.
While his relatives had no interest in reading, Isama devoured books of every kind—history, theories, and especially one thick tome he often returned to: The Theory of Magic.
Magic, he had learned, was rooted in three elements: Mana, the energy source; Magic Circles, the medium of conversion; and Spells, the intended outcome. The greater the spell, the more Mana required.
But unlike others, Isama was born without a Mana Core—the vessel within the body where Mana was stored. This meant he could never perform magic.
Thud!
The sound of something falling startled him.
"Who's there?" Isama asked weakly, walking toward the noise.
His eyes widened when he found not a person, but a book lying on the floor.
"...Anarchy?" he muttered, reading its title.
It was unlike any book he had seen before—its blackish-purple cover bound in chains, revealing only a single word: Anarchy. Surprisingly light in his hand, its pages were thin, yet carried an ominous weight.
"Has this always been here?" he whispered, his weak voice betraying his curiosity.
Instead of returning it to the shelf, Isama carried the book back to his desk. Carefully, he opened the cover.
"The tale of the forgotten god…" he read aloud.
"A god born between light and darkness. A god who acts at will, without regard for what is right or wrong."
Isama kept reading, his soul seemingly drawn deeper and deeper into the text, until he finally reached the last page.
"...A contract?" he whispered, puzzled.
Just then, the edge of the page sliced his thumb, and blood welled up from the cut.
"Ouch…" he winced. A drop of blood fell onto the page marked Contract. Suddenly, the book slammed shut on its own.
At that moment, the library door creaked open. Olivia entered, carrying a bag of bread and light snacks she had purchased outside for him.
"You bought food from outside?" Isama asked quietly, noticing the bag. Olivia froze, avoiding his gaze, afraid he would be upset.
Then her eyes widened. "Master, your hand!" she exclaimed, rushing forward at the sight of his bleeding thumb.
"It's just a scratch," Isama said, embarrassed at her panic.
From her pocket, Olivia pulled out a small medical kit she always carried—prepared for moments like this. She carefully cleaned the wound with alcohol, applied medicine, and wrapped it with a bandage.
Watching her tend to him, Isama felt anger at his own weakness. His frailty always forced others to suffer for his sake.
Only then did he notice Olivia's damp clothes, her back still wet from the storm outside. Despite the umbrella, the heavy rain and wind had soaked her.
"Olivia… you should change your clothes quickly," he said softly.
"Yes, Master," Olivia smiled gently. "But first, you must eat." She placed the bag of food in front of him.
"I'll leave you now," she added, still smiling, before quietly exiting the library.
Isama watched the door close, his weak eyes lingering on it as the sound of rain continued to fall outside.