A gentle spring breeze drifted through the wide-open windows, carrying the sweet scent of Sunlilies from the gardens of the Vane estate.
White silk curtains danced in the air, refracting the golden morning sunlight into the luxurious, silent room.
Standing before a full-length mirror framed in gold and carved with dragons was an eight-year-old boy.
His name was Elian Vane.
He stared at his own reflection with a gaze difficult to decipher—a look far too old for a child of his years.
His jet-black hair fell straight, framing his face like the finest silk from the Eastern Empire.
His skin was pale, almost transparent under the sunlight, accentuating a pair of pitch-black eyes that looked like a starless night sky—dark, mysterious, and seeming to swallow the soul of anyone who stared too long.
"Beautiful..." murmured the maid combing his hair from behind. Her voice was barely a whisper, filled with unconcealed admiration.
"Young Master Elian, if you were to wear a dress, I am certain no princess from any kingdom could compare to your beauty."
Elian offered only a faint smile, one tinged with melancholy. He was not built for strength.
His shoulders were narrow, his waist slender, and his limbs appeared fragile—as if he were made of glass that might shatter with a single rough touch.
In the world of Aethelgard, where physical prowess and magic were everything, Elian's appearance was an anomaly for the heir of the Duke who ruled the North.
"Hanna, don't speak nonsense. Father will be angry if he hears that," Elian said. His voice was soft but clear, like the chiming of a silver bell.
"Forgive me, Young Master." The maid bowed, though her eyes still radiated affection. Everyone in the Vane household adored Elian.
He wasn't arrogant like other nobles. He was gentle, and there was an aura about him that put people at ease. Without them realizing it, this was the affection of the World itself.
Suddenly, the bedroom door burst open.
"Brother Elian!"
A six-year-old girl barreled into the room like a miniature cannonball.
Her silver hair shimmered, and her large blue eyes blazed with fiery spirit. This was Elara, Elian's younger sister.
She wasn't his biological sister, but the daughter of his father's best friend who had fallen in battle against the Void Walkers. She had been adopted into the Vane family.
Elara jumped, wrapping her arms around Elian in a tight hug. Elian staggered slightly, nearly falling due to how weak his physique was compared to Elara, who was already showing talent for Aura at such a young age.
"Elara, be careful," Hanna chided gently.
"It's alright, Hanna." Elian patted Elara's head, feeling the soft texture of her silver hair. "What is it, Elara? Why the rush?"
"Father is home! Father is back from the border!" Elara exclaimed, her eyes sparkling.
"And he brought gifts! Father said he brought a 'Mana Stone' from the heart of a Void monster for you!"
Elian's smile faded slightly, though he tried to hide it. His father, Duke Garrick Vane, was the "Sword of the North," one of the Empire's Five Great Generals.
A gallant, powerful man feared by his enemies. Elian knew his father loved him dearly, but he also knew his father was secretly disappointed.
Elian had been born with a cracked Mana Core. He couldn't store large amounts of mana, and his body was too weak to withstand the pressure of Aura.
In the eyes of the world, he was "trash" born into a family of heroes.
But the world was wrong. They didn't know what Elian felt.
Elian didn't manipulate mana. He didn't enslave the elements. As he walked out of the room, led by Elara pulling his hand, Elian could hear them.
The wind whispered to him, telling him the direction of his father's arrival. The wooden floor beneath his feet seemed to cushion his steps so he wouldn't tire.
The mana particles in the air didn't shy away from him; instead, they danced against his skin, as if wanting to caress him.
He was a child loved by the laws of nature, yet his human body was not ready to receive such immense love.
They arrived at the main hall. The massive doors opened, revealing a giant figure in black armor and a blood-red cloak. Duke Garrick Vane.
His face was hardened and scarred, but upon seeing his two children, his expression softened instantly.
"Father!" Elara ran and was immediately scooped up in one arm by the Duke.
Garrick laughed, his baritone voice echoing through the hall. Then his eyes shifted to Elian, who was walking slowly behind.
"Elian, my son," Garrick greeted. He set Elara down and knelt on one knee to bring himself to Elian's eye level.
A calloused hand, accustomed to wielding a greatsword, gently touched Elian's smooth cheek. "You look... more like your mother every day."
There was pain in Garrick's eyes. His wife had died giving birth to Elian.
"Welcome home, Father." Elian bowed with perfect noble etiquette.
His movements were so fluid and graceful that the knights guarding Garrick were momentarily stunned, thinking they were looking at a highborn princess, not a young master.
"I brought this for you." Garrick produced a small box. Inside, a blue crystal glowed dimly.
"This can help strengthen your Core, little by little. The Imperial Physician says if you absorb it regularly, you might be able to live a... normal life."
The word 'normal' pierced him. Not 'strong,' not 'great,' but 'normal.' Enough to live without constant sickness.
"Thank you, Father. I will cherish it," Elian said, accepting the box.
As his fingers brushed the crystal, it vibrated slightly, glowing brighter as if delighted by Elian's touch, though no one noticed it but Elian himself.
"Oh, and there is one more piece of news." Garrick stood, his face turning serious again.
"The Emperor has decided. Sky Haven Academy will open enrollment early this year to screen for young talent because the movements of the Void Walkers are becoming more aggressive. It is still seven years away for you. However, there is news of a prodigy from a remote village in the South. His name is Ryker."
Ryker.
That name. For some reason, when Elian heard it, the wind outside the window roared as if in anger. Fate itself trembled.
"Rumor has it he possesses a Divine Core," Garrick continued, his tone a mix of awe and concern.
"The child prophesied to end this 300-year war. The Hero of Light."
Elian simply nodded politely. He didn't care about heroes. He only wanted to protect what he had now.
Elara smiling cheerfully, his warm Father, and this peaceful home.
However, out of the corner of his eye, Elian saw a thin black shadow creeping behind a pillar in the hall. It wasn't a normal shadow.
It was something that had no 'sound' in this world. Something alien.
Elian's instincts screamed. The World screamed at him: Danger.
"Father," Elian called out suddenly, his voice urgent.
"Yes?"
"Behind the pillar..."
Before Elian could finish, the shadow exploded into a faceless black humanoid figure. An Assassin from a foreign race.
Not just one, but dozens materialized from shadows all across the hall.
"INTRUDERS!" roared the head of the guard.
The peaceful atmosphere shattered in the blink of an eye. This was the eighth year of Elian's life, and the gears of fate had just begun to turn, bringing the scent of blood and tragedy that would shape him into an entity that would one day shake heaven and earth.
But right now... he was just a helpless little boy.
"Protect the Young Master and the Little Miss!" Garrick roared, golden aura exploding from his body as he drew his sword. "Elian, take Elara and run!"
But Elian stood frozen. His black eyes stared straight at the assassin. He felt no fear.
Instead, he felt something strange.
It felt as though the world was offering him a weapon.