Chapter 1: Prologue – Part 0
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"No… don't do this!"
A hand cloaked in darkness descended from the heavens like a divine judgment, massive and merciless. It struck the earth with overwhelming force—buildings shattered like glass, the streets split asunder, and a tidal wave of screams rose and was silenced in an instant. Lights flickered, blood painted the pavement, and then—
everything vanished.
Adrian jolted awake, gasping for air. His chest heaved, and cold sweat drenched his skin, gluing strands of hair to his forehead. The room was shrouded in thick shadows, the kind that seemed to breathe with the weight of a dream not quite gone.
"Again... the same nightmare," he muttered hoarsely, staring up at the ceiling, which remained swallowed by the darkness.
The silence pressed in around him—dense and absolute. Only the steady tick-tick-tick of the clock dared to speak, like the heartbeat of a world that refused to answer.
"Just when I thought... I'd finally found peace?"
He pulled his knees to his chest, curling inward as if bracing against a cold that wasn't physical. His eyes drifted aimlessly across the room, searching the dark corners not for monsters—but for memories.
"Mom… Dad…" His voice cracked. "I miss you so much. I wish you were still here…"
Beyond the window, pale moonlight filtered through the curtain's thin fabric, casting long, trembling shadows on the walls. The trees outside whispered as the wind stirred their leaves—like voices from another time, murmuring secrets he could no longer understand.
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Part 1: Genesis – The Awakening
Adrian Elian, orphaned and lost, had grown used to calling himself ordinary. It was easier than acknowledging the night everything changed.
He'd lived at the orphanage since he was six. Now, at sixteen, a new storm loomed—one not in the sky, but inside him. As the first light of dawn bathed the world in gold, he stood silently by the window, his gaze distant, anchored to the clouds drifting above.
"Adrian! Lunch is ready!"
Maria's voice rose from downstairs, steady and warm, like the creak of old wood you've always trusted.
"Coming! Good morning, Maria!" he called back, forcing cheer into his voice. But it didn't quite reach his eyes.
Maria was more than a caretaker. To the children, she was an anchor. Her weathered hands spoke of work done without complaint. Her gaze carried the weight of someone who had seen too much and endured it all. Her rare smiles—when they came—had a quiet power to soothe even the most fractured spirits.
Rumors swirled about her past. Some said she'd once stood among legends. Others whispered she had command over powers long forgotten. But none dared to ask, and she never offered the truth.
As Adrian descended the stairs, Maria stood waiting at the bottom. Her eyes met his with a calm that stripped away excuses.
"Adrian," she said softly, but firmly, "what will you choose?"
He stopped. He didn't ask what she meant—he already knew.
In this world, there were those known as Heirs—chosen by divine spirits, inheritors of ancient myths. Once awakened, they carried within them the power to shape destinies. Some joined noble factions, others carved out their own paths, and a rare few challenged the silence of forgotten divine realms alone. Then there were those who waited, praying for a glance from something greater, offering themselves as servants or subordinates.
And then… there were people like Adrian.
He felt the pressure of it all—like invisible chains tightening around his chest.
"So what do you want me to do?" he snapped, the sharp edge in his voice betraying how long he had wrestled with this. "The power you get as a servant or subordinate to one of those heirs is pitiful. The real strength—bloodline powers, divine legacies—they pass those down to their kin. At best, I'd inherit something pathetic. Maybe an orc's brute strength, or if luck's on my side, the speed of a centaur."
He laughed bitterly, his eyes hardening. "And then what? Take that weak gift and pretend I can protect a future family? Watch helplessly while disaster strikes again? Watch my wife… my children… die in front of me, just like before? Because I wasn't strong enough to stop it?"
Maria didn't flinch. She didn't scold him or offer hollow comfort. She simply looked at him—truly looked—as if seeing not the boy he was, but the man he was afraid to become.
Outside, the breeze stirred the trees. The curtains swayed as if reacting to something unspoken, brushing gently against the window frame like a silent farewell.
Adrian didn't wait for her to respond.
He turned, footsteps echoing as he sprinted out—through the hallway, past the peeling paint and worn floorboards, into the sharp morning light.
Behind him, the silence returned.
Before him, the unknown awaited.
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