Arcanum: House of Augustus — a Prestigious Lineage.
"Push!"
"Push!"
The cries of childbirth filled the Augustus estate, echoing through generations of magical excellence. The air pulsed with anxiety and pride. The House of Augustus had produced countless legendary mages — prodigies, archmages, masters of entire schools of magic.
Every child born bore the same expectation: to at least reach the legendary class.
"You can do it, honey!"
Ferdinand Augustus stood by his wife, Aurelie, gripping her hand tightly, his eyes alight with hope.
And at last — the child was born.
A boy.
A child believed to possess unmatched potential.
Or so everyone thought.
Eighteen years later…
He had become everything a mage family could hope for: a prodigy, a genius, a relentless academic powerhouse destined to overshadow all others. The greatest of the Augustus children.
But when the day came for magical awakening, alongside his seven brothers… fate revealed its cruelty.
Only one failed.
Only one had no latent mana.
Christopher Matthew Augustus.
The one-in-a-billion fluke. A statistical impossibility. A failure.
He was disowned, cast out from the house that once called him their greatest pride.
But the Augustus family wasn't without mercy — or perhaps they simply didn't want their reputation stained. He was granted a final opportunity: enrollment into Bluetide Academy, Arcanum's most elite magical institution. Alongside his seven brothers.
A last chance.
But that didn't mean it would be easy.
It was anything but.
…
"Goddammit!"
Christopher Augustus shouted, gripping his hair as he paced around his dorm room.
Books were everywhere — some torn, some burnt, some stained with ink and frustration. The bed was unmade. Papers littered the floor. It looked like a room belonging to a student on the verge of collapse.
A student running on nothing but caffeine, anger, and a severe lack of sleep.
"I've been acing everything, and now they decide to throw in a mana exam!? Why now!?"
He slammed his hand on the desk, sending scattered quills and scrolls flying.
None of the eight Augustus brothers were official students yet. While they all had dorm rooms, admittance into classes required passing an entrance exam — a combination of practical and magical assessments.
For Christopher, that exam was supposed to be easy. Laughably so. The theory was his playground. The written test? Crushed.
But the academy had changed the rules just in time for him.
Mana resonance was now a required component — and Christopher had none.
"I'm going to burn this place to the ground!" he roared, clenching his quill tight. The tip snapped instantly, ink splattering across his notes.
His voice echoed through the dorm walls, filled with rage, helplessness, and the bitter sting of irony.
The prodigy who was supposed to surpass them all — now barred from the starting line.
"Shit…"
Christopher muttered under his breath, chewing on a fingernail as he paced across his cramped dorm room.
His thoughts spun like a whirlpool. He had survived this long on the meager allowance his family granted him before disowning him—just enough to keep the lights on. Every coin he didn't spend on rent or rations, he poured into books. Manuals, course guides, magical theory. He had memorized the entire first-year curriculum before even stepping into Bluetide's halls.
Only scraps went into food. Weeks passed on dry bread and instant soup.
He'd pinned all his hopes on one thing: official enrollment. If he passed the academy's entrance exams, he could qualify as a student assistant and earn money that way. It wouldn't be glamorous, but it would be honest work. A lifeline. A future.
Now?
That future was shattered.
The moment they added mana resonance to the test, it was over. He had no latent mana. None. No way around it.
He couldn't even qualify to sit the exam.
KNOCK. KNOCK.
A sudden knock at the door froze him mid-step.
"Not now! I'm busy!" he shouted, irritation bleeding through his voice.
Of course, his privacy meant nothing now. Not when he was a mana-less reject. No one respected a failure—especially not in Arcanum.
The door creaked open anyway.
And there he was.
Michael Augustus.
The second-born. The brother who came right after him in the bloodline. The new golden child, already glowing under the family's praise.
"I gather you've heard the news, brother?" Michael said, that smug little grin tugging at his lips.
Christopher didn't bother pretending.
"What of it?" he snapped, barely glancing at him.
He already knew what Michael was here for. Not sympathy. Not support. Just another opportunity to rub it in.
Michael strolled in uninvited, eyes scanning the cluttered mess of books and ink-splattered scrolls.
"Seems like you're out of luck," he said casually. "But hey, I might be able to help..."
Christopher narrowed his eyes. "Let me guess—you want me to play the obedient little lapdog while you sweet-talk the professors on my behalf?"
That was always Michael's style. Beneath the smiles and charm, he was petty. Vindictive. He'd never gotten over being born second. Christopher had always been the better student, the family's original prodigy. Until now.
Now, Michael was the one standing tall. And he was savoring every second of it.
"Bingo."
Michael grinned and fired off a playful finger-gun, like he'd just delivered a punchline.