The rain fell in heavy sheets, drumming against rooftops and cobblestones as if the heavens themselves were mourning.
Thunder rolled overhead. A woman cloaked in black slipped through a narrow alley, her boots splashing in shallow puddles. In her arms she carried a small basket, wrapped tightly with cloth. Inside, a baby slept soundly, untouched by the storm raging above.
At last, she stopped before the door of a modest wooden house. Kneeling, she gazed down at the child's face — serene, unaware of the world's cruelty waiting beyond this moment.
Her hands trembled as she pulled a silver cross necklace from within her cloak. She slipped it carefully around the child's neck, her voice breaking as she whispered:
"This will stay with you… even if I can't."
A flash of lightning lit the street, and the rain seemed to pour harder.
"Live well," she murmured, her lips quivering. "Grow strong… please."
She set the basket gently on the doorstep. Cold droplets splashed against the baby's cheeks, making him stir, his tiny lips twitching in protest. The woman knocked — once, twice, three times — then vanished back into the storm.
Moments later, the baby began to cry.
The door creaked open. A young woman peered out, her eyes widening at the sight of the drenched basket.
"My dear!" she gasped, calling over her shoulder. "Come quickly—look what's here!"
A man appeared behind her as she bent down, lifting the basket into her arms. She hushed the baby softly, and, almost miraculously, his cries ceased.
The man frowned deeply. "Who would leave a child out in this storm…?"
The woman turned to him, pleading. "Ronald… can we keep him?"
He hesitated, conflict flashing in his eyes. Finally, he sighed. "Let's… go inside and talk."
Inside, the warmth of the hearth softened the storm's roar. The woman gently removed the baby from the basket, rocking him against her chest. As she did, a folded slip of paper fluttered to the floor.
"We're keeping him, aren't we?" she asked again, hope plain in her voice.
Ronald's gaze lingered on the child nestled in her arms. The baby clutched at her dress with tiny fingers, as if claiming her already.
"…Fine," Ronald said at last, his voice softer. "We'll raise him. Together."
Joy broke across her face. She kissed the child's forehead. "Then I'll love him with everything I have."
She stooped to pick up the fallen paper, unfolding it. Her eyes moved across the faded ink.
"…Lucien," she whispered.
Ronald glanced over. "So that's the name he was given."
"Then Lucien it is," she said warmly.
Ronald stepped closer, and the baby caught his finger, holding tight with surprising strength. His stern expression melted.
"He's not so bad," Ronald murmured, brushing his lips against the child's forehead. "We'll raise him right, Beatrice."
She leaned against him with a soft smile. "Of course. He's our boy now… our Lucien."
---
Present Day
Morning sunlight spilled through the window.
Lucien sat up in bed, his black hair tousled, crimson eyes half-lidded with sleep. With a lazy yawn, he scratched his head, shuffled into the bathroom, and soon wandered into the living room.
"Morning," he mumbled.
At the stove, Beatrice turned with a smile. "Already awake? Good morning, Lucien."
On the couch, Ronald lowered his newspaper. "Didn't sleep well?"
Lucien rubbed his eyes. "Couldn't shut my mind off."
His stomach growled loudly, cutting through the air.
Beatrice laughed. "Sit down. Breakfast is almost ready."
Lucien dropped into a chair. Minutes later, steaming plates were set before him, and he ate eagerly. Ronald joined them at the table.
"Tomorrow's the big day," Ronald said between sips of tea. "You ready for the academy?"
Lucien smirked around a mouthful of food. "I've been waiting for this forever."
"That's our boy," Beatrice said proudly.
When breakfast ended, Lucien carried the dishes to the sink and hurried back to his room. As he entered, his silver cross tapped softly against his chest. He tucked it beneath his shirt, his eyes drifting to the poster on his wall:
Aether Crest Academy.
A grin tugged at his lips. "Tomorrow can't come fast enough."
---
The Next Day
The sun rose over the glorious capital of Velmoria, gilding its spires with light.
Lucien stood at the foot of Aether Crest Academy's gates. They loomed above him — polished silver, carved with twin crescent emblems. Ancient runes shimmered across the arch, glowing blue and gold as morning light touched them.
Beyond lay a city within walls: shining white towers, fluttering silver banners, fountains that glimmered like crystal, students bustling through courtyards, beasts prowling at their masters' sides. It all seemed too perfect, too distant from the life he knew.
Lucien adjusted the strap of his worn coat. "So this… is the famous academy."
The gates swung open with a surge of magic. Students poured through. A squat figure stood atop the stairs, clearing his throat.
"Line up, all of you!"
Lucien blinked. A goblin?
"I am Instructor Levi," the green-skinned man barked. "I'll oversee your entrance evaluation. Follow me."
They marched into a grand chamber. At its heart stood a glowing orb, radiating faint pulses of light.
Levi gestured to it. "This is the Aether Globe. It measures your mana… and more importantly, your bloodline."
Gasps stirred the crowd.
"Blue means you pass," Levi continued. "No glow, you fail. If it shines another color… well, that's rarer."
A troll girl stepped forward. She pressed her palm to the orb.
Fwoosh. A clear blue glow rippled out.
"Good," Levi nodded. "Mana, but no special bloodline. Next."
Students stepped up one by one. Most passed. A few touched the orb in vain, leaving disappointed.
Then came Lucien's turn.
He swallowed hard, stepped into the circle, and pressed his hand to the orb.
Nothing.
The silence was deafening.
Lucien's pulse quickened. "Why… why isn't it glowing?"
Levi rubbed his brow. "Alright, Lucien, that's enou—"
BZZZT!
The orb pulsed faintly, flickered silver… then erupted in a storm of crimson-violet light, twisting like fire.
Gasps filled the room.
Lucien's lips curled in triumph. "I knew it…" he whispered.
But then—
CRACK!
The glow shattered. The orb went black.
A panel beside it flashed:
[ERROR. No mana detected.]
The hall fell silent. Levi's eyes darted between the orb and his records.
"No noble line… no magic ancestry… yet a demon?" he muttered under his breath. He cleared his throat. "Lucien, step aside. Your results will be… reviewed."
Confused but clinging to hope, Lucien obeyed.
The room stirred as two girls stepped forward — one bold, the other reserved.
"The Lucivar twins…" someone whispered. "Nobles."
Lucien's eyes widened. Royal demon bloodline?
"Selaris Lucivar. Velira Lucivar. Step forward."
Selaris, crimson hair flowing like fire, placed her hand on the orb.
BOOM!
Golden brilliance exploded, blinding. Students shielded their eyes.
Lucien's jaw dropped. "What the…?"
Selaris smirked and withdrew. "That should suffice."
Velira followed, hesitant. Her silver hair glimmered as she touched the orb.
BOOM! Golden radiance, even brighter.
She flinched. "S-sorry…"
Levi blinked. She apologized? He cleared his throat, regaining composure. "Enough! Written exam next—move to the hall!"
---
Later
Students gathered outside. Overhead, a glowing panel unfurled across the sky.
"These are the names of those who passed!" Levi announced. "If you don't see yours, you failed."
Lucien scanned the names, heart hammering. Cheers erupted all around as students spotted theirs.
But his wasn't there.
"Lucien," Levi called, beckoning him aside.
Lucien hurried over, still searching the sky. "Why'd you pull me? Maybe they missed my—"
"Forget it," Levi interrupted.
Lucien froze. "…What do you mean?"
Levi's voice was low, almost pitying. "Your name isn't on the list. That's all there is to say."
The words struck like a blade.
"No. No, you must've overlooked it—"
But Levi had already turned away.
Lucien stood alone, hands trembling, his chest hollow.
"I… I failed?!"
---
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