When Noctus opened his eyes, the morning light filtered through the embroidered curtains, casting fiery patterns across the walls of his chamber. The scent of smoke and roses lingered faintly in the air—unique to Ignisar Manor. He sat up slowly, his body still stiff, the weight of his dual memories pressing heavily upon him.
A single glance in the mirror confirmed what he already knew. The young man staring back at him was handsome, his sharp features betraying a noble heritage, his eyes like pools of endless darkness. He didn't linger on it; he had no need. He had already studied this face in detail yesterday. This morning, he wasn't interested in appearances. He was interested in survival.
His thoughts drifted back to the translucent screen he had dismissed before. Yesterday, when it had first appeared, disbelief had clouded his mind. He hadn't dared to look at it too deeply, fearing that he was hallucinating. But now… he couldn't afford to ignore it.
A flicker, and the screen emerged again.
[System Active]Functions: Status | Identify | Quests | Shop
His gaze lingered on the unfamiliar option—the Shop.
Shop accessible only through Aura Exchange. Aura can be absorbed from surroundings, defeated foes, or willingly offered lifeforce. The exchange rate varies according to the quality of aura.
Noctus's eyes narrowed slightly. "Aura exchange… interesting."
He wasn't unsettled. If anything, he was curious. Aura was the root of existence, and if the system allowed him to trade it for tools or power, then it was simply another path to strength. Dangerous, perhaps, but no more dangerous than the world itself.
He closed the screen with a grim sigh, turning instead to the window. From here, he could see the sprawling capital of the Ceraunos Kingdom. The jewel of humanity.
At the heart of it rose the royal palace, its silver towers laced with veins of lightning that never ceased, even under the bright sun. The Royal House of Ceraunos was unmatched. Their thunder affinity was said to shake the heavens themselves, and their rule had been unbroken for centuries. The people revered them as both rulers and protectors—the storm made flesh.
But the royals were not the only pillars holding the kingdom upright. Alongside them stood the three ducal houses, each with their own sphere of influence.
House Ignisar, his family, bore the flame. Warriors and conquerors, proud and unyielding. To wield fire was to dominate, to scorch one's enemies into ash. For generations, they had produced heroes and generals, legends who carried the kingdom through its darkest hours. Yet in a house that worshipped power and brilliance, a weak flame like his former self had been nothing but a stain.
House Marivelle held the waters. Unlike Ignisar's blunt force, Marivelle's strength lay in subtlety. They were politicians, diplomats, and schemers, shaping kingdoms with treaties and words instead of swords. Their influence flowed like rivers—sometimes gentle, sometimes overwhelming, but always unstoppable in time.
House Caelwyn commanded the winds. Their cavalry was unmatched, striking with the swiftness of storms, and their fleets ruled the skies as if born to it. Where Ignisar burned and Marivelle weaved, Caelwyn cut—a relentless gale tearing through opposition.
Together with the royals, these houses formed the foundation of Ceraunos. But beneath the surface, Noctus could see it for what it was—a delicate balance, where the smallest crack could send the whole structure tumbling.
And he, the unwanted son of Ignisar, was already that crack.
His hand tightened against the window frame as the old memories clawed at him again—the original Noctus bent over books, ink-stained fingers trembling as he studied until dawn, desperate for recognition. But no matter how hard he tried, his parents never once looked at him with pride. In their eyes, he was nothing. Less than nothing.
The boy had wanted love. Instead, he found despair. And that despair had driven him to rebellion, staining his name with arrogance and cruelty. The echoes of those sins were still alive, and the quest system had confirmed it: someone would come for him. Perhaps many someones.
He forced the bitterness down. So be it. Let them try.
But it wasn't only humans he had to consider. Beyond the walls of the capital, the world was wide and dangerous. His inherited knowledge painted a tapestry of countless races—the long-lived elves with their ancient forests, the dwarves whose forges blazed beneath mountains, the beastkin tribes who ruled the plains with primal ferocity.
And above them all… dragons.
Even among nobles and scholars, dragons were spoken of with a mixture of awe and fear. They dwelled in the hidden valley known as Dragon Valley, their domain untouchable by mortals. A single hatchling was born with power equal to a Sovereign, and they grew only stronger as years passed. To humans, elves, or even angels, dragons existed on another level entirely—as if their strength belonged to a different dimension.
Prideful beyond measure, they recognized no master but themselves. Their affinity was not with the simple elements, but with chaos and dissonance, forces so wild and unpredictable that even gods hesitated to provoke them.
The thought sent a chill through Noctus. Dragons were calamities made flesh. Yet if the hints buried in the memories were true, one of them might walk the mortal lands even now.
He turned back toward the bed and sat heavily upon it. His chest rose and fell with steady breaths as he whispered, "Ignisar may call me disgrace, but disgrace can be sharpened into a blade."
The system pulsed faintly in response.The words etched into his soul repeated themselves—
Quest: Survive until the Coming of Age Ceremony.
And survive he would.