For centuries, Tsuyokuni was forgotten. The once-powerful territory that dominated the ages a thousand years ago became the last among the five territories of the continent. Its glory erased by time, its strength corroded by stagnation. While rival powers evolved, Tsuyokuni withered... until he appeared.
Akirama no Renzou.
Born outside the Akirama family, he was considered an unmatched prodigy from a young age. Even without the name, his talent echoed throughout the nation. The ancient mages, the court knights, and even the most arrogant nobles... all recognized the potential of that young man who climbed the magical circles as if called by the very essence of the world.
And when he finally touched the ninth circle, something no son of Tsuyokuni had done in the past two hundred years, the patriarchs of House Akirama knelt in pride and fear. They opened the gates, offered the name, riches, lands... and the hands of their daughters Renzou did not refuse.
He accepted the burden of the name, not out of ambition, but out of duty. He wanted to see his people strong again. He knew that Sanos, the absolute power of the continent, would never be surpassed easily, not when they possessed the only tenth-circle mage born there who always vanished with that curiosity of his, three ninth-circle mages—two born in the country and one from another, the highest concentration of dungeons rich in treasures, and lastly, the best king to appear in years across the entire continent.
He could accept that. But to remain in last place, below all others, was unacceptable to Renzou.
The second greatest power on the continent, Tianlong is a territory where tradition and rigor intertwine with the relentless pursuit of absolute strength. Known as the land of celestial dragons, the nation is famous for its strict martial culture, its inflexible hierarchy, and its magical schools that do not forgive failure.
Although the country does not currently have a tenth-circle mage, Tianlong's history holds three Archmages of that level who shaped past eras. Their legacy still influences the politics, strategy, and training of all young mages and knights in the territory. Tianlong's strength is not only in the past. It lies in the steel structure that sustains its people. They possess the highest concentration of eighth-circle mages on the continent, their training programs are considered the most brutal and effective, Tianlong's force is the most loyal and organized, and the country housed two ninth-circle mages until recently—though one allied with Sanos, further tipping the balance between the four territories toward Sanos.
Even so, Tianlong did not stop. They continue their relentless quest to forge the next tenth-circle mage, subjecting promising youths to survival missions in wild zones and long periods of meditation under elemental pressure.
In Tianlong, strength is not a blessing; it is an obligation. They do not wait for miracles—they forge them.
In third place among the five great territories of the continent, Floravita houses two of the four Nartheis Kairom-Level—powerful entities that challenge the very foundations of magic and life. Their mere existence draws a constant flow of Nartheis that have a greater chance of evolving within Floravita's lands. This constant threat has forged a country with the highest rate of daily combat on the continent. Mages and warriors are forced to fight from a young age, and the weak simply do not survive. Because of this, Floravita has the highest number of seventh-circle mages and the second-highest number of eighth-circle mages on the continent, and lastly, it houses the third strongest ninth-circle mage on the continent. Unlike Sanos or Tianlong, Floravita does not focus on dungeons or experiments. Its strength comes from survival, from endless battle, and from the pressure of living in a field where magic must be refined with every breath.
It is a kingdom where mages have no choice but to evolve... or die.
Vesparello, in fourth, bet on alchemy. Its eighth-circle mages, aided by legendary elixirs, achieved brutal feats. The country was the second richest on the continent, second only to Sanos, and housed the fourth strongest ninth-circle mage, who was said to be training in a hidden location, trying to reach the tenth circle quickly. According to Vesparello's high command, he was meditating on the moon.
And then came Tsuyokuni. No high-ranking names. No feared armies. No grand dungeons. A kingdom in ruins... until Renzou rose. And with him, a new flame was reborn.
He worked tirelessly for years. Polished talents, reformed magical education, established academies and fortresses. Negotiated alliances. He even neglected a daughter and a son without potential to polish other talents, which led to his greatest pride his daughter Rina, a genius who, since the age of four, already understood the structures of magical circles with frightening ease.
She would surpass him—and he accepted that with joy. For Renzou, Tsuyokuni could shine again.
But then came the Kagenai.
The disease was known, Rare, Deadly,Only two percent of Tsuyokuni's population could carry it in their blood... and once activated, time became the greatest enemy, with only forty days until death. No cure. No chance. The first symptoms were mild—first a strange fatigue. Then, fever. Cold sweat at night. The skin began to fade. His eyes lost their sharpness. And the magic... his reservoir began to fail. Like a well drying up day by day.
Only his closest knew. Three wives. Eight children—Raizen, the eldest, tried to remain strong but cried in silence. Rina, silent, refused to accept it. The others, between hope and tears, watched the man who sustained Tsuyokuni fall apart. Only the two children he had rejected were expressionless, which made sense to him, as it was his fault.
And then, on the thirty-sixth day, everything went dark, and the world seemed to vanish. His body ached as if needles of fire pierced him from within. His lungs burned. His mind buzzed with noise. His ears no longer caught words—only echoes. The Kagenai consumed every cell, and Renzou felt death was near.
Four days remained.
'Why...? Why me?'
That was what he thought, but he had accepted his death. Renzou, the first ninth-circle mage of his land in two centuries, would close his eyes as a symbol of the nation's tragedy. But then... something warm ran down his mouth. A liquid. Sweet and warm. At first, he thought it was delirium. But seconds later, the buzzing in his ears stopped. His body, still weak, no longer hurt. An inexplicable relief replaced the torture, and slowly... the world returned.
He saw light, then blinked and saw the embroidered ceiling of the noble chamber. The golden columns. The muffled whispers. Familiar voices.
He was alive. When he tried to rise, hands supported him. His blurry eyes found familiar faces. His third wife was crying, and Raizen trembled, kneeling beside him, holding his hand tightly.
"Father"
The cry of his daughter Kaena ran toward him, and two others—Rina with red eyes but firm, and Airi nearly crying—approached as well, soon followed by the other children. It felt like a sea of emotions. Renzou, dizzy, just smiled. He still felt the remnants of the Kagenai, like shadows in his bones, but... he was cured.
"I... am..."
"Yes"
Raizen replied, tears falling down his face.
"You... came back..."
And then, Raizen turned to a golden-haired boy with eyes of the same color who observed everything with slight embarrassment. He must have been fifteen. He wore a kimono, but his gaze carried something rare. Renzou's wives reverenced him, and the children looked at him with gratitude. Even the guards of the chamber seemed to begin to respect him—especially his right hand, Daigo, who seemed the most grateful to the boy, perhaps because Renzou had saved his life.
"It was him, father..."
Raizen introduced the boy after thanking him.
"He's the one who cured you, father..."
Renzou raised his eyes with difficulty. He didn't recognize the face. How had a boy cured him? Who was he? A new alchemy genius? Perhaps a healer with the magic of an angel, maybe?
He made an effort and asked with a hoarse voice to the boy,
"What... is your name...?"
The boy smiled, simple and natural.
"Enrico Solcren Ferreira"