The chamber of the Starborne Council was a cathedral of power, its vaulted ceilings carved from obsidian and etched with ancient runes that glimmered faintly even under the subdued light of enchanted sconces. The lingering scent of scorched air and the faint crackle of residual flames from Veldora's earlier fury filled the space. In the center, kneeling before the council, was Elias Starborne—broken, stripped of any illusions, staring into the burning crimson gaze of his father.
The verdict of exile had landed upon him like a hammer forged from molten iron. His knees ached, his hands clenched into fists, yet the pain in his limbs was nothing compared to the hollow ache gnawing at his chest. It was the weight of betrayal, the bitter truth that all the years of yearning for recognition, all the careful observation, patience, and quiet effort, had amounted to nothing.
Delphine's figure trembled a few steps away, her frost-tinged aura flickering in faint agitation as she watched her youngest brother bow under the judgment of the council. Tears streaked her face, yet she remained still, restrained by Christian's stern glance. Christian, standing tall and resolute beside the council's inner circle, looked down at Eli with a mixture of pity and frustration. His blue flames danced faintly across his fists, a testament to the power that had come to define him—but his heart softened as he took in the hollow shell of his youngest sibling kneeling on the polished floor.
Eli's mind, however, was far from the chamber, locked in a whirlpool of despair and rage. The words of his father, the scorn of the council, the silent judgment of Christian, and the faintly bitter sorrow of Delphine all twisted in his mind like serrated blades. Each word of condemnation replayed endlessly:
"You are a waste, Elias Starborne. From birth, we have hoped you would awaken a talent worthy of this house, and yet… nothing."
"You dare claim a Shop skill? You insult this family with such childish nonsense."
"A failure. A shadow. Nothing more."
"You are talentless, a burden we have carried in vain."
The words looped, unyielding. The cries of disapproval, the sneers of derision, the echo of his father's authority—"Lord Starborne"—they all became a cadence of torment that burned hotter than any flame he had ever seen. His own pulse thundered in his ears.
Eli's vision tunneled inward, a memory surfacing unbidden: a rooftop, his past colleague Walter, and the betrayal of a lifetime. Eli remembered how Walter had stolen his work, the Stock Flow Analysis AI, had presented it as his own, and claimed accolades Elijah had worked hard for. The memory was reckoning and a bitter reminder of how effort and intellect could be plundered without remorse, without recognition, leaving only the hollow shell of the one who had to watch it all happen.How he was always called weak and timid by his siblings also resurfaced among those memories of his past life.
Why does the world never see effort? Eli thought, a bitter chill settling over him. Why must merit be invisible to all eyes but those who profit from its theft? Why must I be condemned for existing, for simply being?
The room felt colder now, though the heat of Veldora's aura still lingered. Eli's mind crystallized, a dark clarity forming like ice along his spine. He would not weep, he would not plead, he would not crumble any further. he slowly stood up from his kneeling position he understood it .The exile was final, the verdict decided, and if the Starborne family thought to see him grovel, to see the boy they dismissed, they were gravely mistaken.
When he spoke, his voice was calm, measured, and ice-cold.
"Thank you, Lord Starborne," he said, each word clipped, deliberate. The title "Father" had been stripped from the syllables, replaced with the formality of authority, respect, and distance. He had drawn a line, an invisible chasm between himself and the people who had spurned him, severing any remaining sentiment. This was his way of severing any form of relation with Starborne family that abandoned him.
He lifted his gaze slowly, turning to Christian his elder brother.he remembered all the time Christian was mocking him and a memory popped up in his head during his training with Christian and Christian leaning against the wooden training post, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Really, Eli? That's the best you can do?" he said, his voice dripping with scorn. "I've seen first-year kids put more power into a basic aura gathering technique than you just did."
Eli's hands trembled as he tried again, energy flickering weakly around his palms. "I… I'm trying," he muttered, avoiding his brother's sharp gaze.
"Trying?" Christian laughed, loud and harsh. "Kid, you're embarrassing yourself. You can't even form a proper aura sphere. It's not some magic trick—this is the basics. If you can't even do that, how do you expect to keep up with anyone else?"
Eli's cheeks burned red, a mix of anger and shame. "I… I'll get it next time," he said, gritting his teeth.
Christian shook his head, still smirking, and pushed off the post. "Next time better be soon. Otherwise, I'll start wondering if your aura's just… defective."
Staring at Christian with blank emotionless eyes Eli said "Farewell, Great Blaze Knight, Young Duke Christian Starborne," he said, the words carrying no warmth, only a hollow reverence that felt more like a blade to the heart than affection.
Delphine's face fell, her hands clenching at her sides. Eli's red pupils, gleaming like coals stoked in shadow, bore into her, emotionless, yet heavy with the weight of his suffering. "Farewell, Great Twin Mage, Delphine," he continued, voice steady and devoid of tenderness.
The tears streaked down her cheeks more freely now. She had adored her little brother, had seen in him potential that the family ignored, had hoped that even in his quiet demeanor, he would grow into something remarkable. But these eyes—ash-colored, cold, and distant—were not the Eli she had known. They reflected only shadow, rage, and a burgeoning damnation.
Even Veldora faltered, a muscle in his jaw tightening as he processed the words. "Lord Starborne," Eli had said. Not Father. Not Son. Not anything intimate. Only the title of authority, formal and detached, the very thing Veldora had always wielded against others. And now it was directed at him, sharp and cutting as a sword.
The council members shifted uncomfortably. For all their experience, they had never witnessed such a complete severance of filial bonds, the quiet coldness of a child turned almost overnight into something other.
"You may take what you will from the family treasury," Veldora said finally, voice steady though the embered fury of his aura lingered. "As a final gift, a token for your exile. Choose wisely."
Eli's lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes scanned the treasury—a gleaming hall of gold, silver, and jewels accumulated over centuries. His hands hovered over the coin, touching them lightly and a notification came that said
[1000 gold detected]
[would you like to convert it into System coins Y/N?]
Eli pressed Y and
[10,000 SC Acquired]
[1000 gold stored in inventory]
The Shop skill hummed to life as it always did, translating tangible wealth into system currency with a subtle shimmer of magic. 1,000 gold coins converted instantly into 10,000 system coins, appearing in his storage within the Shop skill, tangible only to him, invisible to all else. He smiled faintly, coldly, as he stored the currency thinking "It was enough. It was more than enough to begin anew."
The council members remained silent, some murmuring among themselves, yet none dared speak against the decision, for it had already been rendered and sealed by Veldora's authority. Christian's gaze softened slightly, a flicker of regret passing over his sharp features, while Delphine's tears spilled freely, uncontrolled now, her chest heaving as she struggled to contain the grief that threatened to overwhelm her.
The next hours were a blur of formalities. A procession of well-wishers, emissaries, and members of the duchy came to offer their respects, though many bowed low in sadness at the exile of a boy who had been gentle, kind, and fair even to the most downtrodden of the city's folk. Criminals, rogues, and merchants alike spoke in hushed tones of his benevolence, of the times he had shared bread, coin, and kindness when it would have cost him nothing to ignore. Some even wept openly, watching as the Starborne heir—once invisible, now a figure of tragic dignity—prepared to leave their lands.
Eli remained composed, the red glow in his eyes simmering just beneath the surface. He accepted the well-wishes with a nod, but his mind was elsewhere, sharpening like a blade in shadow, each slight and injustice stored away, filed meticulously for the day they might be repaid.
When the time came to bid farewell to his siblings, he requested a private moment with Delphine in his chamber. The door closed softly behind her, and for a heartbeat, there was silence, heavy and laden with unspoken emotion. Delphine, usually poised and commanding in her mastery of twin elements, could only stand, trembling, her hands clenching at her sides.
"Eli…" she whispered, voice thick with emotion, "I… I don't want you to go. You—"
He turned to face her, his red pupils locking onto her icy blue gaze. There was no warmth, no affection, no trace of the boy she had loved. Only cold calculation and the simmering shadow of vengeance.
"Farewell, Twin Mage," he said, each word clipped, precise, emotionless. The title "Delphine" was replaced by the formal recognition of her mastery and status, as though she were no longer his sister, but merely an opponent or an equal to be acknowledged, not loved.
Delphine gasped, stepping back instinctively. The depth of rage, despair, and damnation that radiated from him was palpable, chilling the room like frost carried on a gale. Tears streamed unchecked, carving tracks through her makeup, her body trembling under the weight of loss. "Eli…" she whispered again, but the boy—or man now hidden behind the veneer of composure—did not answer.
He simply turned and left, passing through the halls of the Starborne estate one last time. Each step was deliberate, a quiet drumbeat echoing in the polished corridors, marking the distance he had created between himself and the family that had cast him aside.
Outside, the gates of the estate opened to the rising sun, spilling light across the courtyard. Servants and townsfolk alike had gathered, whispers rippling through the crowd as Eli passed. Some bowed, some wept, some turned away in quiet shame at the injustice of it all. Even the criminal elements, those who had been spared his justice and kindness, offered silent nods and murmurs of respect.
And as he mounted the horse that would carry him to Dawn City, the ashes of the boy who had been Elias Starborne settled within him. The cold, burning fire of rage, despair, and calculated purpose fanned itself in the deep shadows of his eyes.
The journey ahead would not be easy. Dawn City was broken, a ruin of past glories, neglected and suffering. But Eli did not flinch. With the Shop skill humming in his chest and the system coins secure in his storage, he carried the tools of a different kind of power—one not built on magic, combat, or aura, but on knowledge, strategy, and commerce.
And in that quiet, resolute moment, he swore to himself, to the shadows of the Starborne estate fading behind him: he would not simply survive. He would rise.
He would make the world remember the name Elias Starborne, even if it meant becoming a storm the Starborne family would never anticipate.