Four years had passed since Aurelian von Blackthorne first opened his eyes in the Blackthorne estate, and yet the world outside his nursery had remained a mystery. Though he was only four by age, his mind was not that of a child—it was the mind of someone who had already lived a lifetime and carried the cold, calculating experience of Michael Smith.
The Blackthorne estate, nestled deep within the northern mountains of the Astra Empire, was a fortress as much as it was a home. The estate's walls were built from the rare black stone quarried from the mountains themselves, imbued with both magic and practicality, making it nearly impervious to attack. Servants scurried silently along the marble hallways, their eyes perpetually alert, for the Blackthornes were not just a noble family—they were a dynasty of warriors and mages who commanded respect, fear, and influence across Arcanor.
Aurelian sat cross-legged on the polished wooden floor of his chamber, silver hair falling past his shoulders, eyes as red and sharp as a hawk's. He had long since outgrown the fragile, infant body he had been born with. His limbs were strong, his reflexes astonishingly precise for a boy of four, and even now, he moved with a grace that seemed unnatural, as though each step, each gesture, had been carefully calculated.
A sword rested against the wall beside him. It was not just any sword—it was a practice blade, but the craftsmanship was exquisite, forged by master smiths from the family's private armory. Aurelian's small fingers gripped the hilt instinctively. In another life, he had learned countless combat techniques, but here, he could feel the potential in his young body growing stronger with each passing day. Though the power of a Calamity within him had yet to fully awaken, its pulse was always present, waiting for the moment when it would demand release.
At that moment, a familiar warmth filled the room. The door opened, and a figure entered—the radiant presence of Aria von Blackthorne, his mother. Her bright silver hair cascaded over her shoulders, catching the sunlight that streamed through the high windows. Her blue eyes sparkled with warmth and intelligence, a stark contrast to the cold, calculating red eyes of her son. Even after four years, Aurelian could not help but notice her beauty—the kind that seemed ethereal, almost otherworldly, yet full of love and kindness.
"Mother…" Aurelian's voice was soft, but even at four, there was a weight to it that made the adult in the room take notice.
Aria smiled, kneeling down to his level. Her voice was gentle, melodic, and full of affection. "Aurelian… my little star. You've grown so much." She reached out, her hands delicate yet firm, cupping his cheeks. "And yet… even now, your eyes… they remind me so much of your father."
Aurelian tilted his head slightly, studying her face with the precision of someone far older. "Do I look like him?" His voice was calm, almost emotionless, though the faintest hint of curiosity lingered.
"Yes," Aria replied softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. "Your father… Alaric, my beloved, is so proud of you. He is… a great man, and yet, my little Aurelian… even greater potential lies in you. You are not just my son… you are the future of the Blackthornes."
She hugged him then, pressing her warm, gentle frame against his small body. Aurelian stiffened for only a moment before allowing the embrace. For all his brilliance, for all his cold, ruthless calculation, there was something comforting in his mother's arms—something that stirred a long-forgotten warmth in the depths of the Calamity within him.
"You… always hug like this," Aurelian murmured, tilting his head back slightly, his red eyes glinting with curiosity.
"I hug the heir of the Blackthorne family," Aria whispered, a playful smile on her lips. "My son, the strongest and most brilliant of all our line, deserves no less." She let out a soft laugh, one that filled the room with light. "You have such a lovely family, my little one. You have me, your father, and everyone here… we all love you, Aurelian. Always remember that."
Aurelian's gaze softened just slightly. Though he had no real childhood memories, no warmth from a previous life, the feeling was… comforting. It was unfamiliar, yet he did not reject it. In a world filled with power, politics, and death, this warmth was a rare treasure—a reminder that even someone like him, a Calamity in human form, could find something worth holding onto.
Aria stayed for a while longer, speaking of small things. She described the estate, the gardens, the training halls where the young boy would eventually learn the arts of sword and magic. She explained the neighboring lords, the rival dukes, and the minor squabbles that filled the corridors of power in the Astra Empire. But to Aurelian, it was not mere stories—it was data. Every word was stored, calculated, and weighed.
Eventually, Aria stood and leaned down, pressing her lips to his forehead. "Remember, Aurelian, you are not just a child… you are the heir of Blackthorne. Our family's strength surpasses even the royal family, and in time, you will command respect and fear across all of Arcanor. Do not forget who you are… and never forget the love that binds you to this family."
With that, she left, leaving Aurelian in the quiet of his chamber once more. He sat alone for a moment, legs crossed, fingers tracing the hilt of his small sword. Though only four years old, he understood everything about the world around him. He understood politics, hierarchy, and the unspoken power structures that governed Arcanor. He understood his parents' abilities—the unparalleled swordsmanship of his father, Alaric, and the prodigious magical talent of his mother, Aria. And he understood himself—the Calamity, the force that lay within, waiting for the right moment to awaken fully.
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Noctyrr: The World Beyond Blackthorne
The world was called Noctyrr, and it was vast, divided primarily into two continents.
1. Arcanor – A continent rich in resources, magic, and life. Humans, elves, dwarves, fairies, and demi-humans lived here, each forming intricate societies, alliances, and rivalries. The lands of Arcanor were ruled by a system of noble houses, with the Blackthornes ranking among the most powerful. Here, the Astra Empire governed the central regions, while distant territories remained independent or semi-autonomous under powerful dukes and archmages.
2. Abyssara – A land of darkness, chaos, and corruption, smaller than Arcanor, but terrifyingly dangerous. Abyssara was ruled by seven demon kinds and a single Demon Lord whose power rivaled even the mightiest of human rulers. Few dared cross the borders of Abyssara, and those who did rarely returned alive. It was a land steeped in blood, dark magic, and ancient rivalries, waiting patiently for the chance to spill into Arcanor.
In the Astra Empire, there were five primary dukedoms, each led by a powerful duke commanding not only vast territories but also armies capable of challenging the royal family. Among these dukes, Blackthorne was unmatched. Its military might, combined with the magical prowess of the family, made the name "Blackthorne" feared in every corner of the continent. Where the royal family ruled with authority and diplomacy, the Blackthornes ruled with strength, precision, and intimidation.
Aurelian, even at four, understood the implications of this. He knew the names of the other dukes, the generals, and even certain royal advisors who whispered of the Blackthornes in fear. He knew the hierarchies of both magical and martial power. He even knew the secrets of his own potential—that as the Calamity, he could surpass even his father's legendary swordsmanship and his mother's prodigious magic.
And he would.
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Returning his gaze to the window of his chamber, Aurelian looked out over the sprawling estate. The snow-capped peaks of the northern mountains glistened under the morning sun. The forests stretched endlessly, the rivers glinting like silver ribbons. Everything in this world was alive, waiting, and moving.
This is my world now, he thought. Not the one I left behind, not the life I had… but mine. Every corner, every secret, every power… all of it belongs to me.
For the first time in four years, Aurelian smiled—not with warmth, but with certainty. The Blackthorne heir, the Calamity reborn, was awake. And the world of Noctyrr would soon know the weight of his existence.