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Human nature is the most unpredictable force in the world. No one can say for certain whether a person will always choose the right path throughout their life. Perhaps this very unpredictability is what makes humans who they are today.
There are all kinds of people in this world, shaped by different circumstances.
Some are blessed with happiness — lives under their control, unbound by the chains of fate. They live for themselves, cry for themselves, and walk whatever path they desire.
And then… there are those who exist in the shadows.
People who struggle just to take control of their own lives, puppets dancing in the hands of an unseen master. Their destiny is not their own. The darkness eventually devours them.
But among them are a rare few — those who refuse to be consumed.
Instead, they embrace the darkness… and in doing so, become darkness itself.
Inside a dilapidated room deep within the main palace of Chronos, a six-year-old boy swung a wooden sword back and forth. His focus was absolute. His arms were thin, his eyes dull, yet within those eyes burned a certain defiance — eyes that refused to yield, eyes that refused to kneel.
His dark-grey hair and matching grey eyes added to his quiet charm, though none of it could hide the malnourished state of his body.
This was his fate — no, the fate of all those labeled worthless.
In a world where the strong rule, he was a sinner.
A sinner for being weak.
Eight hours had passed since he began swinging his sword, yet he had not stopped. Eventually fatigue overwhelmed him, the sword slipped from his weakening grip, and he collapsed onto the cold floor. His breathing grew heavy. Even so, his callused hand searched blindly for the fallen sword.
He had not given up.
Not yet.
In Celestia, talent is synonymous with strength. Only those with superior talent can rise to become true powerhouses.
Talent is measured through ancient magical devices — ranked from the lowest E to the highest SSS.
SSS-rank talent was once considered a myth in ancient times… but that myth has been shattered by fourteen individuals:
the thirteen young masters and mistresses of the Overload Families, and a certain goliath from the previous generation.
The boy resumed his training, refusing to rest. He couldn't afford such luxury.
In a world where talent is worshipped above all else, he was an E-grade —
a worthless, a talent so common it makes up half the population of ordinary commoners.
Time crawled by, and eventually the boy collapsed into sleep on the ground.
Around him, a shadow slowly materialized — an abyssal entity with deep, bottomless eyes. It gazed at the boy's callused hands, its expression carrying a rare hint of pity… and a profound emotion that words could never describe.
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