"Power decides your future. Rank defines your worth. And I… was born with nothing.
—Kairo Vex
The sky burned like a second sun.
Above the capital city of Dareth, crimson banner rippled in the wind as firelight shimmered across thousands of waiting faces. The city was alive, buzzing with chants, drums, and thunderous cheers—as the entire kingdom gathered for the Rite of Flame.
This wasn't a festival. It was judgment day.
Every child who turned ten this year would be tested by the sacred flame to awaken their Power Rank—a status that would shpe the rest of their lives.
E-rankers would become laborers.
B-rankers might join noble guilds.
S-rankers could command armies.
And those blessed with SSS Rank would be feared like gods.
But no one spoke of the other possibility.
The Unraked.
Those the flame rejected entirely.
Those born cursed.
Those the world would rather forget.
Ten-year-old Kairo Vex stood in line behind fifty other children, all dressed in white ceremonial robes. His robe was too short. His sleeves were torn. And his sandals didn't match.
He tried not to notice the sideways glances from the others.
Some sneered openly. One boy whispered something and the line behind them erupted in quiet laughter.
Kairo's hands clenched at his sides.
Ignore them. Just get through this.
But even he knew the odds. He had no noble blood. No family crest. No training, no allies, no name.
He was a nobody from the Outer Ring, the slums beyond the marble walls.
The only thing he had was the strange burn mark on his chest—faint, blackened, shaped like a broken sun. He'd had it since he was six, after a fever nearly killed him. The mark never healed. It pulsed sometimes when he was angry.
But he had never told anyone.
The Flame Altar stood at the center of the obsidian amphitheater, surrounded by seven glowing spires. Magic symbols spiraled upward from its base, illuminating the towering crystal pillar at its heart—the Flame Pillar.
This was where destinies were decided.
A priest in flame-red robes raised his staff and called, "Let the sacred ceremony commence!"
One by one, children stepped forward. A girl named Serah Illum approached. The crowd erupted with cheers—she was the daughter of a high-ranking guildmaster.
She touched the pillar, and it blazed gold.
"S-Rank!" the priest announced. More cheers.
Another child came. Then another.
Red flames. Blue flames. B-Rank. A-Rank. F-Rank. C-Rank.
And then…
"Kairo Vex, of the Outer Ring," the priest called with a touch of disdain.
The crowd quieted.
Kairo swallowed. His throat was dry. His feet felt heavier with every step.
The platform was hot. The runes glowed beneath his toes. Thousands of eyes bored into his back as he approached the pillar.
The priest didn't bother hiding his disgust.
"Place your palm on the Flame Pillar and receive your fate," he said.
Kairo lifted his hand slowly, breath caught in his chest.
Please… just let me have a rank. Even F. Anything.
His hand touched the crystal.
At first, nothing happened.
Then—BOOM.
An explosion of heat and sound rocked the amphitheater.
The Flame Pillar cracked. Runes flashed violently and extinguished. The seven spires pulsed once, then shattered in sparks.
And the flames turned black.
Gasps filled the air.
The priest stumbled backward.
The sacred fire, for the first time in recorded history… died.
Only ash remained.
Silence fell like a crushing weight.
Then the priest screamed, "This child has been rejcted by the flame! He bears the Unranked Curse!"
The crowd erupted in panic.
"He's a Voidborn!"
"He tainted the flame!"
"Kill him before it spreads!"
Kairo stepped back, shaking. "I didn't… I didn't do anything!
But he could feel something. Deep in his chest.
The mark.
It was glowing—hot and painful—like fire trying to crawl out of his ribs.
Guards rushed forward and grabbed him roughly.
"Let me go! he shouted. "I didn't—!
He was dragged down the altar steps like an animal.
Children recoiled. One girl screamed. A woman threw a rotten fruit at his face.
And in the midst of the chaos, Kairo's eyes locked onto a single figure.
A girl in the crowd. About his age. Dressed in silver silk, with glowing violet eyes and long white hair tied behind her shoulders.
She didn't look afraid.
She didn't look angry.
She loked… curious.
Their eyes met.
And in that moment, Kairo knew he wasn't entirely alone.
That Night…
The cell was cold. The stone walls smelled of mold and old magic.
Kairo curled up on the straw mat, arms wrapped around his knees. His wrists were bruised from iron shackles. His robes were torn.
Tears burned behind his eyes, but he refused to let them fall.
He had dreamed of this day since he was five. He had watched the Rites every year, cheering for the ranked, hoping one day it would be his turn.
But he hdn't been ranked.
He had been erased.
Outside the bars, a voice spoke.
"He's still breathing?"
"Unfortunately," said a guard. "The priests wanted him executed, but the Flamekeepers intervened. Something about… studying the effect."
"So he's not just Unranked. He broke the pillar."
"First time in history. They're calling him a walking curse."
The voices faded.
Kairo turned over slowly.
His chest ached.
He lifted his robe and looked.
The mark… the broken sun… was now glowing faintly blue.
And for the first time, Kairo didn't feel fear.
He felt anger.
Meanwhile...
Far away, in a marble toer high above the city, three old men sat in silence before a mirror of flame. In the glass, they had seen the black fire, the mark, the boy.
"Are you certain,asked one, voice dry like sand.
"He bears the Heaven Mark," the second confirmed. "The seal of a Braker.
"That power was lost centuries ago," said the third. "If it's returning…"
"Then the system we built may not survive.
They look at each other.
And together, they whispered a name not spoken in centuries:
"Heaven Breaker.