In a world of countless races—humans, elves, dwarves, beastfolk, demi-humans—all living in relative harmony, peace was considered the norm. The only outliers were the demons, who saw themselves as superior beings and refused to mingle with what they called "lesser blood."
In a remote part of the human realm, nestled quietly within the borders of the Algira village, a small estate stood beneath the thunderous roar of a storm. The crimson moon cast a haunting glow over the rain-soaked rooftops as midnight struck.
Within the manor of Baron Edric Valmore, a child was born.
Wrapped in soft white cloth, the boy's eyes opened slowly—deep blue, like the ocean before a storm. The first thing he saw was a beautiful woman with golden-blonde hair and gentle sky-blue eyes, gazing at him lovingly as she cradled his small body.
She smiled, brushing his soft black hair with trembling fingers.
"Neron… Valmore. What do you think, my dear?" she whispered.
Behind her, a tall man stood in silence, dressed in an elegant black suit. His black hair shimmered in the lightning flash, and his deep crimson eyes—sharp yet warm—softened at the sight of his newborn son.
"I think it's a great name, Eliora," Edric said, stepping forward to place a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Our little Neron… may he carry the fire of Valmore within him."
---
The next day, the household welcomed a new servant into Neron's life—a caretaker chosen with care.
His name was Lucien. Only fifteen, yet far from ordinary. A demi-human—half-human, half-demon— with black hair and golden eye bearing a single horn on his head. In demon culture, the horn represented potential. One horn at such a young age was rare... and dangerous.
Lucien had no family. An orphan taken in by Baron Edric years ago. Though he once served the Baron loyally, his new master was now the newborn child—Neron Valmore.
At first, Lucien expected a typical infant: cries, fussing, sleepless nights. But this boy was... unsettling. In the weeks since his birth, Neron hadn't cried once. His eyes were too sharp—watchful, calculating.
> "If this child grows smart enough," Lucien thought, "he may elevate House Valmore to heights unseen. But if mishandled... he might just become something else entirely."
And so, Lucien made a decision.
He would begin training the boy from early childhood.
---
Years passed.
By the age of five, Neron had become something of a mystery within the household. He devoured books—on history, psychology, strategy, and alchemy. Lucien, who had expected to struggle to keep him focused, found himself running out of advanced reading material instead.
The child didn't just learn—he understood. As if he could see through the very thoughts of the authors themselves.
---
Lucien's POV
In the young master's room, silence ruled.
He sat on his dark-themed bed, beneath walls painted in pale blue. A towering bookshelf stood nearby, overflowing with volumes. Neron wore simple nightclothes, legs crossed, a massive tome in hand. It was easily over a thousand pages—but he was already halfway through.
I sat nearby, in my usual chair, flipping through a book of my own. Then—
"Lucien."
His voice was calm, but there was always a sharp edge behind it.
"Tell me—what is the biggest mistake humans make, in your opinion?"
I looked up. "Are you sure you want to hear that, young master? You are human yourself, after all."
He shot me a glare—cool and piercing. I chuckled lightly, giving in.
"Well, if you insist... I'd say it's a mix. Greed. Pride. Sorrow. Sloth. Gluttony. Lust. Emotion. And above all, overthinking. These lead to irrational decisions—ones that bring ruin under the illusion of hope."
Neron closed the book with a thud and leaned back, thoughtful.
"Interesting... But for me, the greatest mistake is ambition."
His voice lowered slightly.
"People desire too much for too little effort. They achieve their goals through lies, begging, betrayal—whatever it takes. Hard workers are laughed at. The honest are seen as fools. That twisted nature... it's what makes most humans so disgustingly low."
I blinked. For a moment, it was easy to forget he was just a boy.
"Young master," I sighed, "you're far too charismatic to be spouting things like that before your birthday."
He smirked. "What, are you my mother now?"
"No," I said dryly, "but I am your caretaker. And I insist you get some sleep. Tomorrow, nobles from across the state will arrive for your fifth birthday. You'll need energy to deal with them."
I walked over, closed his book, and gently pushed him into bed.
"Good night, young master."
As I reached for the light—
"You know, Lucien," he muttered, "for a mere butler, you sure don't act like one."
I paused, chuckled, and switched off the lamp.
> "This damn child," I thought as I left the room. "I really should've taught him proper manners first."
But I couldn't help smiling.
Tomorrow would be a grand day for House Valmore.
--
The day of Neron's fifth birthday arrived with lively colors and chatter filling House Valmore.
Head butler Oswin, with his slicked-back grey hair and stern expression, orchestrated the event like a seasoned conductor. The manor, usually quiet, now pulsed with activity. Servants darted back and forth, carrying trays, flowers, ribbons, and velvet drapery. The air smelled of roasted herbs and sweet wine.
In the young master's room, Lucien swung the door open.
"Young master, let us get ready for the event. We—"
He paused. The bed was neatly made, but empty.
"...Young master?"
Just then, a soft hand tapped his shoulder.
Lucien turned to see Mira, her flame-orange hair tied neatly, eyes calm as ever.
"He's with the Baroness," she said. "She insisted on dressing him herself today."
Lucien sighed. "Very well. I'll assist Oswin then."
Downstairs, he joined the older butler, who gave him a respectful nod. They moved like clockwork, silently fine-tuning details together.
---
By noon, the carriages began to arrive, each bearing a banner of noble lineage.
The Guests:
1. House Darvon – A coastal barony known for its trade routes. The baron, Gelan Darvon, arrived with his twin daughters, both shy and mild-mannered.
2. House Ferris – Mountain lords famous for taming griffins. The current baron, Ruthar Ferris, was loud, boisterous, and proudly displayed a claw mark on his shoulder from a "training accident."
3. House Thornveil – A quiet, intellectual family. Baroness Lira Thornveil came alone, dressed in black and silver, her words few but sharp.
4. Viscount Astelan – The highest-ranking guest. A tall, calculating man with silver eyes and a commanding presence. He brought his son—
> Aurther Astelan – Only five, like Neron, but already built like a future knight. He wielded a wooden training sword strapped to his back and bore a quiet confidence. Whispers said he had the strength of a teen already—and may be a future candidate for the Hero's Party.
The Hero's Party—a mythical group said to balance the world's power against the Devil Emperor. Each generation, the world chooses a Hero, and with them, powerful allies from various races. To be chosen is to be legendary.
---
As the guests mingled, Baron Edric Valmore raised a glass.
"My friends, today we celebrate the birth of my son, Neron Valmore. May he grow strong, wise, and worthy of the name he carries."
The crowd clapped as drinks were poured and food was served.
And where was the young lord?
Seated in a corner, immersed in a book.
Lucien approached, arms folded. "Young master. At least greet the nobles."
With a sigh, Neron stood. "Fine, fine..."
He walked slowly across the room, eyes half-lidded, a practiced smile on his lips. Despite his age, he bowed with elegance, greeting each guest briefly.
When he approached Viscount Astelan, the man looked him over with interest.
"I've heard quite the rumors about you, Neron Valmore," he said.
Neron tilted his head. "Only rumors, my lord?"
The Viscount chuckled. "So it seems. I'm eager to see the truth someday."
Beside him, Aurther eyed Neron silently. Their gazes locked—one filled with raw potential, the other with dangerous insight.
It was a brief, wordless challenge.
And just like that, the true game had begun.