He stood there, alone on the magnificent stage, under the gaze of the silent statues of the gods.
Then, the sound came.
At first, it was just a small murmur. Like the buzzing of bees. Then it turned into loud whispers. And finally, it became an uncontrollable wave of sound.
"What?! No blessing?!"
"Did you hear that? The son of Duke Larvin has no power!"
"How is that possible? His older brothers are genius monsters, but he's... empty?"
"Even a farmer's child sometimes gets a physical reinforcement blessing. Is he really zero?"
"A disgrace. This is truly a shame for the Larvin Family."
Calian lowered his head. He stared at the shiny marble floor, seeing the reflection of his own ashen face.
Time Loop... The word still echoed in his head, contrasting with the 'No blessing' verdict he had just received. Was the crystal broken? Or... was the writing not a blessing? Was it a curse?
But no one cared about what he saw. To the world, he was now trash. Trash wrapped in expensive silk.
The expressions of the people around him changed drastically. The respect and fear they had shown when he stepped out of the carriage earlier had vanished without a trace.
A noblewoman covered her mouth with a fan, whispering to her friend with shrewd, narrowed eyes. "No wonder the Duke never brought him to parties. Turns out he's a failed product."
A knight guarding the side shook his head, his face showing deep disappointment. "The blood of a lion gives birth to a sick kitten. What a pity."
Calian felt a tightness in his chest. He wanted to vomit. He wanted to scream that he saw something! That there was writing there! But who would believe him? A failed child trying to find an excuse? It would only make him look more pathetic.
"Young Master," the Head Priest said softly, trying to politely usher him away so the ceremony could continue. "Please... descend via the side stairs."
Via the side stairs. Not the main stairs. That was the path for those who failed.
Calian lifted his face. He did not cry. His eyes were dry, but his gaze was empty. He nodded slowly at the Priest—the last remnants of his noble dignity—then turned around.
His footsteps as he descended the stage felt incredibly light, as if his body no longer had weight. He walked through the crowd who now looked at him with a mixture of disgust and satisfaction. People like to see great people fall, and today, they got their spectacle.
As he was about to reach the exit, a boy from a Baron's family—the one who had just received a common 'Iron Sword' blessing—deliberately stepped slightly into Calian's path.
"Heh," the boy sneered, loud enough for those around to hear. "I thought the Duke's family was special. Turns out, I'm more useful than a Larvin."
The boy's friends snickered.
Calian stopped.
His blood boiled. Not because he felt strong, but because he felt hurt. The pain from his parents' rejection, the loneliness of many years, and now this public humiliation... all mixed into a bitter poison.
Calian turned slowly. His amethyst purple gaze—the only thing that proved he was his father's son—stared sharply at the boy.
"Move aside," Calian said softly.
"What if I don't?" the boy challenged, feeling superior because he had a 'blessing' and Calian did not. "What are you going to do? You have no magic. You have no aura. You're just a spoiled brat who—"
"I said move aside," Calian cut in coldly.
He stepped forward, bringing his face closer to the boy. Although Calian was thin, the murderous aura he had copied from his father—the result of watching his father intimidate war generals—came out naturally.
"You're right. I have no magic," Calian said, his voice trembling with contained fury. "But I am still a Larvin. Do you think my father will allow an outsider to insult his family name, even if the one insulted is a failure like me? If you touch me, or block my path... tomorrow morning your family name will be wiped from the empire's map!"
It was a bluff. Calian knew his father might not care. But the Baron's son did not know that. Duke Larvin's name was too terrifying.
The boy's face went pale. His mocking smile vanished. He quickly backed away, giving him passage.
"M-My apologies, Young Master..." he squeaked.
Calian did not answer. He straightened his collar and walked out, leaving the hall full of poisonous whispers.
As the temple doors closed behind him, fresh air hit his face. However, the air could not cool the heat in his heart.
Sebastian stood next to the carriage. The butler's face remained flat, but he did not immediately open the door. He looked at Calian, scanning his young master's expression. He must have heard the commotion from inside. Bad news traveled faster than fire.
"Let's go home!" Calian ordered curtly, getting into the carriage without waiting for assistance.
Sebastian bowed deeply, closed the carriage door, then climbed onto the driver's seat.
Inside the dark, luxurious carriage cabin, Calian's defenses crumbled. He slumped in his seat, burying his face in his hands. His shoulders shook, but no sound of sobbing escaped. He had forgotten how to cry out loud.
Time Loop... Time Loop...
The words kept spinning, mocking him.
"What's the point..." he whispered hoarsely into the darkness. "What's the point of that writing if the result is still the same? I'm trash. I'm empty."
He looked at his own palm, the hand that had touched the crystal.
"Father will kill me," he muttered, his eyes staring blankly ahead. The image of his father's cold and disappointed—no, not disappointed, but disgusted—face appeared in his mind. "Or worse... he'll just pretend I don't exist at all."
The horse carriage sped through the capital's streets, carrying home a boy who felt the world had just ended for him, unaware that a strange destiny had just begun to turn its wheels behind the shadows of the unsaid ancient writing.