The name Valehart was not just noble — it was sacred.
A bloodline that had stood beside kings, ruled provinces, led armies, and signed peace treaties older than most empires.
The only Grand Duke house in the Empire.
But that wasn't what made them feared.
What truly set them apart… was the blood of the Mirans that flowed through their veins.
---
Miran
Mirans are rare beings born with a unique power no one else can replicate — a gift tied to their very soul, awakened from childhood, belonging solely to them.
It cannot be learned.
It cannot be passed on.
And it cannot be copied.
In the entire Empire, only one house has carried this bloodline without interruption for centuries:
The House of Grand Duke Valehart.
The oldest.
The most prestigious.
The most dangerous.
Yes, a Miran can be born into any noble family — but it's exceedingly rare.
Less than 1% of the population awaken such power.
And now…
The heir of that bloodline stood right in front of them.
---
Silence fell across the hallway.
There was no sound.
Not even a breath.
No one moved.
They had completely frozen — stunned.
Their expressions shattered — from arrogance to sheer disbelief.
Eyes trembled.
Jaws slackened.
Color drained from every face.
Cael's breath caught in his throat. The casual sneer vanished in an instant.
George's hand visibly trembled.
Alice took an unconscious step back. Eyes wide. Lips parted—
But no sound came out.
It was like time had cracked.
As if the weight of that name had dropped like a stone, crushing the very air around them.
The tension was so sharp, it felt like it could cut skin.
No one dared to speak.
Because suddenly—
The boy they had mocked stood in a light far too dangerous to ignore.
---
"We… apologize for our rude behavior. Please… forgive our disrespect, young Grand Duke," Alice said awkwardly, lowering his head.
Eiren just smiled brightly.
"No problem! We're friends, right? So please, talk to me casually."
The others were genuinely moved by his kindness.
"Phew… thank goodness he's not like the other nobles," Alice mumbled under his breath.
They were stunned just by hearing about my status—their behavior instantly grew cautious.
But they don't know that the one with the highest status here… is Aslan.
I wonder how they'll react when they find out.
---
Alchemy Class
"Tomorrow, you'll be working in groups," the professor announced, adjusting his glasses. "Each group will be assigned a different project topic. Prepare accordingly."
With that, the bell rang.
Students began packing up, chattering about their project partners.
As the class emptied, Professor Elric stayed behind, calmly gathering his scattered notes and placing them into a worn leather folder.
At the far end, Aslan hadn't moved.
He rose slowly from his desk and walked toward the professor.
"Professor Elric," he said, his voice quiet yet firm. "May I speak with you for a moment? I… need to ask something."
The professor looked up, surprised, then gave a gentle nod.
"Of course, Aslan. What's on your mind?"
Aslan hesitated, then spoke.
"It's about the Vikir incident."
Elric's expression shifted — no longer the calm instructor, but a man listening with complete focus.
"When I was fighting him," Aslan said, "he pulled out a small vial… filled with a black liquid. The moment he drank it, something changed. He became… inhumanly strong. There was this strange black energy pouring out of him."
Elric's brow furrowed.
"And not long after," Aslan continued, "his body started turning pale. He began bleeding — badly. Alice said it was the side effect of something called Voidbrew."
"I know I shouldn't get involved," Aslan added, voice low, "but ever since then, I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. What was that?"
Elric placed the folder down slowly.
"…I understand your concern," he said, choosing his words carefully. "What you witnessed was indeed Voidbrew — a forbidden substance, created through a mixture of ancient black magic formulas and years of dangerous experimentation. Drinking it grants a temporary power boost — about ten percent — but at a terrible cost."
He glanced out the window, as if to ensure no one was listening.
"The energy you saw? That's not just magic — it's madness.
Voidbrew destabilizes the body and mind.
The drinker becomes stronger… but loses control. They enter a berserk state.
And after half an hour, their own power turns against them.
Most die in agony. No one survives."
He looked back at Aslan.
"That's why it was banned by the Empire long ago."
---
A heavy silence fell between them.
"But then," Aslan said slowly, fists clenched, "why did I hear… that the Empress was poisoned by something similar? A black liquid. One that no one has been able to cure."
Elric froze.
His face darkened.
"Yes," he admitted quietly. "The best physicians and alchemists in the Empire are working tirelessly to find a cure.
But if what you say is true — if the substance she drank is even remotely related to Voidbrew…"
"…Then there may be no cure at all."
---
Aslan's voice broke the heavy silence.
"But isn't there anything?" he asked, almost pleading.
"A potion… a healing tonic… something that can fix any wound or neutralize any poison — even something like Voidbrew?"
Professor Elric didn't answer immediately.
His eyes drifted, gaze fixed on some distant thought.
"There is one thing," he said at last.
"But it's more legend than fact. A mythical elixir said to heal all injuries, nullify every poison… even bring someone back from the brink of death."
Aslan's breath caught.
"What is it?" he asked, eyes wide.
Elric looked him dead in the eye.
"The Elixir of Dragon Heart," he said quietly.
"But no one's seen it in generations.
And even fewer believe it truly exists."
---