Moonlight poured over the Frostwind Highlands like silver rain.
The night was calm, untouched by the noise of civilization. Ancient pines whispered beneath the mountain winds while countless stars glittered above the world.
Then...
A streak of emerald fire tore across the heavens.
It crossed the entire sky before crashing beyond the walls of Ashenford, a quiet border city of the Kingdom of Valoria.
The impact lasted only a heartbeat.
The clouds rippled.
The mountains trembled.
And then everything became silent again.
At the summit of a lonely cliff, an old hermit slowly opened his eyes.
His weathered face reflected the fading green light.
"So..."
He smiled faintly.
"The heavens have chosen another."
"Whether they send a savior... or a calamity... only time will decide."
---
Sixteen Years Later
A young man lay comfortably on the same cliff, hands folded beneath his head as he stared into the endless sky.
His black hair danced in the breeze.
His eyes, however, looked strangely distant, as though they had witnessed countless years instead of merely sixteen.
"Sixteen years..."
He let out a quiet sigh.
"How much longer must I wait?"
His name was Adrian Ashbourne.
To everyone in Ashenford, he was known by a much simpler title.
The Outcast.
---
Ashenford was a small frontier city.
To the mighty Kingdom of Valoria, it barely deserved a place on a map.
The nobles of the capital had likely never even heard its name.
But people living in small towns always found stories to entertain themselves.
For over a decade, every tavern conversation eventually drifted toward the same three names.
The Rose.
The Prodigy.
The Outcast.
Curiously, all three had been born on the very same day.
Some called it destiny.
Others called it a cruel joke from the gods.
---
The Rose was Lady Evelyne Ravenshade.
Her beauty had long surpassed the borders of Ashenford.
Traveling merchants claimed that even among the daughters of dukes and princes, few could rival her elegance.
Many dismissed such stories as exaggeration.
Until they saw her themselves.
---
The Prodigy was Lucien Blackthorn.
At only sixteen, he had already awakened his Seventh Mana Circle.
Such talent was almost unheard of in the northern frontier.
Rumor claimed that the prestigious Arcane Citadel would soon send envoys to recruit gifted youths.
Everyone believed Lucien would become one of them.
It was no longer a matter of if.
Only when.
---
Then there was Adrian.
Unlike the other two...
He possessed no mana.
No blessing.
No gift.
Every examination ended with the same conclusion.
An empty core.
Unable to awaken.
Unable to cast.
Unable to cultivate power.
In a kingdom where strength determined one's worth...
That was a life sentence.
Yet Adrian's story became famous for another reason.
When they were children, the Ashbourne and Ravenshade families had arranged a marriage between Adrian and Evelyne.
Back then, both families had laughed together.
Who could have imagined fate would play such a cruel trick?
As Adrian grew older without awakening even the slightest spark of mana, whispers slowly turned into ridicule.
Why should Ashenford's brightest flower marry a man who could never protect even himself?
The engagement survived only because the Ashbourne family remained the city's oldest noble house, and Adrian's mother happened to be Evelyne's aunt.
Family honor kept the promise alive.
Nothing more.
Everything changed after Lucien Blackthorn appeared.
A genius.
Handsome.
Confident.
Destined for greatness.
Compared to him...
Adrian looked like little more than a shadow.
People no longer asked whether the engagement would be broken.
They only wondered when.
---
News spread quickly.
The Arcane Citadel would arrive in exactly one month.
For Ashenford, it was an event that happened perhaps once in several generations.
No one doubted the true reason behind the visit.
Lucien.
Everyone knew it.
Once he entered the Citadel, the Blackthorn family would rise above every noble house in Ashenford.
Old loyalties would disappear overnight.
The Ravenshades noticed this before anyone else.
Power always attracted power.
And what alliance could be stronger than marriage?
---
As dusk settled over the city, Adrian finally descended from the mountain.
He wore simple white clothes without any family crest.
His appearance was undeniably handsome.
Sharp jaw.
Calm features.
Eyes dark as midnight.
Yet something inside those eyes felt strangely empty.
He walked through the crowded streets while ignoring the countless glances following him.
A butcher chuckled.
"Look who's back."
"The mountain ghost."
"I said he'd last two weeks before crawling home."
His companion laughed loudly.
"Seventeen days."
"I won the bet."
Several nearby merchants burst into laughter.
Adrian didn't react.
Years of mockery had dulled their words into meaningless noise.
Another voice rose from the crowd.
"I heard Lady Evelyne will soon become Lady Blackthorn."
"About time."
"Imagine wasting a jewel like her on someone who can't even light a candle with mana."
The group erupted again.
Someone added with a grin,
"If I were him, I'd disappear before the wedding invitations were printed."
More laughter.
A child pointed innocently.
"Father... why do they call him the Outcast?"
The father hesitated before answering quietly.
"Because life isn't fair, son."
Before anyone could continue—
"Enough."
The single word sliced through the street like winter wind.
Silence fell instantly.
A young maid in emerald robes stepped forward, glaring at everyone around her.
Behind her stood a girl dressed in flowing silver.
Moonlight seemed to gather around her naturally.
Lady Evelyne Ravenshade.
No one spoke.
Even those who had been laughing moments earlier lowered their heads.
The maid crossed her arms.
"You people call yourselves civilized?"
"If you're brave enough to insult someone, at least have the courage to say it to his face."
Several townsfolk awkwardly looked away.
Adrian merely continued walking.
The maid frowned.
"Are you seriously going to pretend none of this happened?"
He finally stopped.
Without even turning around, he replied calmly,
"What would you have me do?"
"Start a fight?"
"Argue until sunrise?"
"They've been saying the same things for years."
"They're growing repetitive."
His indifferent tone caught everyone off guard.
The maid opened her mouth—
Then closed it again.
She had expected anger.
Humiliation.
Anything.
Instead...
Nothing.
Adrian resumed walking.
Home.
His mother would be waiting.
She always waited.
Just as she always believed in him.
"Cousin."
The gentle voice drifted through the evening air.
For the first time...
Adrian stopped.
Slowly, he turned.
Evelyne met his eyes with a calm expression.
"The Arcane Citadel arrives next month."
"I'll leave with them."
"Our paths are separating."
"I don't want either of us chained to promises made by our parents."
"I hope you understand."
There was no cruelty in her voice.
Only quiet certainty.
To her...
The future had already been decided.
Adrian studied her for several moments.
The entire city called her a goddess.
Yet standing before her now...
He felt absolutely nothing.
Beauty faded.
Power faded.
Even kingdoms disappeared with time.
How much could one human life truly matter?
A faint smile appeared.
"I wish you good fortune."
That was all.
No pleading.
No resentment.
No heartbreak.
He turned and walked away once more.
This time...
A familiar laugh echoed through the street.
"Leaving already?"
A broad-shouldered young man wearing black leather armor stepped forward.
His confident smile carried the arrogance of someone accustomed to admiration.
Lucien Blackthorn.
Ashenford's greatest genius.
He folded his arms.
"I've been speaking to you."
"The least you could do is answer."
Adrian continued walking without even glancing back.
Lucien's smile stiffened.
For someone who had always been the center of attention...
Being ignored was a greater insult than any curse.
Several spectators exchanged uneasy glances.
The air between the two young men suddenly became far heavier than anyone expected.