"Y-Young Master Demian, y-your mother has been kidnapped by someone!"
The servants of House Bentley were frantic, their voices trembling with fear as they struggled to speak before Demian.
"Demian!"—
A voice rang out.
It was a girl, sixteen years of age, with flowing black hair like silk. Her beauty held an air of grace, though her face was pale with dread.
She was Julia Bentley, Demian's elder sister.
"Sister, what happened?!"
Demian cried out, his voice thick with worry for their mother.
Julia began to speak, her voice quivering, "Demian... Mother was taken by a mercenary dressed in black robes. It seemed they came for her alone—they avoided unnecessary chaos. I've already dispatched our knights to gather information."
Demian stood frozen, the words striking him like thunder.
Shock overwhelmed him, and in the next moment, a strange force burst from within his body. Julia gasped as the air in the room turned heavy with fear—his raw, untamed emotion had unleashed a wave of mystical power that caused even the walls to tremble.
"Demian, you—!"
But he was already gone.
He dashed toward the western forests of Pelion, following the trail of the mercenaries. A radiant light burst from his back, and from it emerged two great wings of gold.
Boomm!—
Like a comet streaking across the sky, Demian surged past cities and valleys, his speed nearing that of sound itself as he entered the wild reaches of Pelion Forest.
"Over there!"
A voice echoed within his mind—someone, or something, was guiding him.
Pelion Forest was known for its abundance of mystical beasts. Though rarely hostile to humans, these creatures thrived in the forest's vibrant, life-giving energy. The trees here were ancient and immense, their boughs trailing like curtains from the heavens.
Boomm!—
Demian crashed into one of the black-robed mercenaries, catching them off-guard.
"What the—? Why is a child chasing us? Who is he? But... he hasn't even undergone a divine evolution yet!"
One of the mercenaries snarled and lashed out, casting a chain that bound Demian's limbs. With cold precision, he began to chant an ancient spell:
"Deus Caelestis Ares, da mihi virtutem tuam! Per pactum antiquum, fiat puer iste sacrificium flammae ardentis pro luce belli!"
(Heavenly Lord Ares, give me my strength! By ancient covenant, let this child be a blazing fire offering for the light of war!)
Boom!—
Flames erupted, engulfing Demian in a blazing inferno.
The mercenaries left him behind, vanishing into the forest depths with his mother in tow.
---
One week later, Demian awoke in a wooden cabin deep within Pelion. His body was wrapped in layers of bandages, a sign that someone had tended to his wounds.
"So, you've finally awakened," came the voice of an old man.
The old man still carried an aura of strength that made younger soldiers hesitate to underestimate him. His hair, long and gleaming like aged silver, fell to his shoulders, sometimes loosely tied behind his head. The lines of age marked his face—not as signs of weakness, but as testaments to decades of battle and unwavering loyalty.
He wore a simple black shirt, crisp despite its modesty, layered beneath a worn brown leather vest—weathered by time yet sturdy still. It was the kind of garment worn by those well-acquainted with the training yard and war room alike. His trousers were jet black, neatly tailored with a practical cut—ideal for swift movement or long marches. No jewelry adorned him, no gaudy symbols of nobility—only a presence that radiated quiet honor.
His frame remained upright, muscular but not excessive, like a veteran knight who had never truly laid down his sword. Each step he took was firm, deliberate. And when he spoke, his deep voice filled the space like a blacksmith's hammer striking steel—gravelly, resonant, and impossible to ignore.
"Umm... Thank you for saving me. But—what about my mother?"
Demian asked, a desperate glimmer in his eyes.
The old man paused, then sighed. "Your mother? I saw no one else when I found you—only your body, scorched and dying in the flames."
Tears welled up in Demian's eyes. He had failed.
"I failed to receive the blessing of the Moonlight Goddess... and now I've failed to protect my mother."
The old man looked at him solemnly, then gave his name.
"I am Samuel Leonardo, former dean of aetherthorn academy. I specialize in the control of mystical energies, currently in Phase Four of devotion to Helios, God of the Sun."
"And what is your name, boy? Where do you come from, how did you end up here, and what happened to you—your body is covered in burns."
"My name is Demian—Demian Bentley. I hail from the Bentley family," he answered, his voice hoarse yet steady. "I came here to pursue my mother… she was taken—abducted by mercenaries. I tracked them, and I nearly caught up… but in the end, this is what became of me."
Leonardo's eyes widened at the name. Demian... that child?
He was the son of them—the Bentleys. Both parents were known to be Phase Four. And yet… they had fallen so easily to mere mercenaries?
Unless—no, it must be that the mercenary leader was also Phase Four. At the very least.
He narrowed his eyes.
"You... should have died. And yet something unknown enveloped you in that moment. You've not even reached Phase One, yet somehow your soul resisted death. Tell me, have you received a divine blessing?"
Demian shook his head, his voice bitter. "No. I failed to receive the blessing from the Church of the Moonlight Goddess."
Samuel frowned. "Strange. It's true that all living things possess an innate seed of mystical energy—but without divine blessing, it remains dormant. Yet somehow... your body has awakened that seed."
His curiosity deepened. Upon examining Demian's core, Samuel gasped.
"Within your body... I found twenty-four sealed runes encasing your mystical core. One of them is beginning to unravel—that's why you were able to release power without divine approval. Fascinating..."
A burning curiosity gripped the dean.
"Demian, I would like to stimulate this awakening further. I've never encountered a case like yours—and I must study your core if we are to understand it."
He began to chant, drawing blood from his palm. Ancient runes formed in the air, and the cabin filled with radiant light.
"Sol lucem fert mundo tenebroso, purgat omnem chaos, caelum terramque convertit. Deus Caelestis Helios, hunc servum tuum adiuva!"
(The sun brings light to a dark world, cleansing all chaos turning heaven and earth upside down, heavenly god helios help this servant!)
Ding!—
Leonardo's power surged into Demian's core, stirring it awake.
Strange, foreign energies flooded into the boy's body.
Boom!—A massive surge of mystical force exploded outward!
"Hey, boy! Are you alright?!"
Samuel panicked as the entire room shook. But when he looked again, his eyes widened in disbelief.
"T-this... it worked. Unbelievable. This boy—he's achieved the impossible. His body has reached Phase One of mystical evolution... without any connection to a divine church!"
---
In that moment, Demian found himself in the depths of his subconscious.
"Where am I...?"
he murmured, pale and disoriented, walking through a sea of fog.
Then, a voice echoed in his mind once more.
"So... you've finally unlocked your core. Congratulations."
"Who are you? Were you the one who guided me to those mercenaries?"
The mists parted.—
Before him stood a towering, angelic being—seated upon a great throne. It had twelve wings, and its face remained hidden behind a veil of fog.
"Yes. It was I who led you there. But I cannot say more—for time is short, and your strength is not yet ready. Our journey is far from over, Demian. Keep moving forward."
The vision faded.
Demian awoke, and saw Samuel Leonardo scribbling in a thick tome.
"Ah, so you're awake?"
The old man turned.
"There's something you must know. And you must never speak of your power to anyone. This—"
He handed Demian the tome.
"—is my full study of your condition. While you slept, I wrote down my theory. Read it."
Demian opened the book and read. His eyes widened with every page.
The analysis was intricate—describing in great detail the structure of his mystical core and the twenty-four sealed runes that bound his true power.
---