Darkness, swallowed by even more darkness. Where light had once flourished as the peak of divinity, nothing could remain in the end. Those who had thought the divine glow would last forever were fools, blind to the truth of this rotten world.
The wind carried a chill that seeped into his bones; even the air itself seemed to mourn the vanished light. Shadows that shouldn't exist twisted unnaturally at the edges of his vision, sneering at those who once dreamed of a lasting dawn.
"It looks like he should save them. Him—once the brightest light, now the darkest shadow. What a joke," he thought, as his eyes snapped open.
A sharp pain flared along his ribs, dragging him out of the lingering dream like a hook through flesh.
"Hah! Who am I?"
A short, silver-haired teenage boy lay in the wet grass.
The metallic scent of blood mingled with the damp, earthy aroma of the forest. With each forced breath he took, it felt as if the forest itself was watching him.
His fingers brushed the cold, rough surface of the goblin's body, confirming that his victory was all too real.
A shallow wound burned across his forearm, blood mixing with the rain-soaked grass beneath him.
The boy's sharp, grey eyes intently glared at the bright yellow sun, as if trying to recall a long-forgotten memory.
"Oh, right! How could I even forget such a thing?"
He picked up the small mana crystal from the ground, clutching it as he ran toward the nearby village.
The sun had already started its descent, gradually stretching the shadows along the floor.
The wet moss almost made him stumble and the small water droplets glowed faintly, as if judging his every move.
Each crystal felt like a step toward power, yet he knew no sword could define him.
Still, he weighed the blue stone in his palm, counting how many more he'd need.
As he left the eerie forest and descended the steep hill, the faint spring breeze ruffled his silver hair.
"I don't have to be nervous. I'll definitely get a good one," he muttered under his heavy breath.
His grey mantle clung onto his body, when he passed through the large gate at the front of the village. Some people carefully glanced into his direction, recognizing his silver hair.
"Look! It's Nox van Strier, the youngest son of House Strier. I heard he's turning sixteen today."
"That means there's a stigma ritual today?"
"He's definitely going to get a good one. Both of his brothers were blessed as well after all."
"I hope so," Nox thought, a nervous laugh escaping his lips. His fingers curled into his sleeve, nails biting into fabric as their words followed him.
Thanks to the grace of the gods, everyone who turned sixteen had the opportunity to attend the stigma ritual.
It's was a festival meant to attract the attention of divine beings, where these teenagers would then receive a mark, granting them the powers of a specific god.
Even without a Stigma, anyone could manipulate the four main elements—earth, water, wind, and fire—but only basic spells could be learned. True mastery required a Stigma.
Just as Nox was about to enter a nearby store, an old woman approached him.
"You weren't hunting again, were you?" Her smile faltered for half a heartbeat before she replaced it with cheer.
"You're finally back again. But why even ask if you already know the answer, Holga?"
"Have you forgotten what day today is?" he added.
"Hah! Happy birthday! But you'll always be my little Noxi to me," she replied, brushing his hair. Her fingers lingered on his head slightly longer than necessary, but she quickly shook them as if brushing off a stray thought.
"Just tell me how much you'll give me for these," Nox said, pulling out a small bag and shaking it upside down.
Holga's eyes widened slightly as dozens of tiny blue stones fell out of the seemingly small sack.
"You bought a dimension bag? The crystals are all the lowest grade, though, so I can only give you five silver coins for them. Come inside so I can pay you."
As Nox entered the wooden building, a familiar scent greeted him. The interior was dark and crammed with all kinds of magical items and weapons.
Nox's eyes landed on a sturdy stone sword. A faint red glow emanated from it, as if something unusual was calling to him from within.
"Nox, you don't have to worry about the sword being bought. I'll reserve it for you." She flipped a silver coin, signalling him to take the money.
He threw the crystals onto the table and packed his newly obtained coins to his collection.
After stealing a last glance at the items, Nox left the store and made his way to the outskirts of the village.
Preparations for tonight's festival had already begun. Some workers briefly glanced at him with warm, yet stressed smiles before returning to their tasks.
As Nox continued walking along the narrow street, he caught sight of something fabulous: a property stretching over hundreds of metres, surrounded by at least ten small pavilions, with a palace-like house at its centre.
Inside, marble columns gleamed in the morning light, reflecting a rainbow of colours from the meticulously polished floors. Servants scurried around, carrying trays, lanterns, and scrolls, yet none dared to disturb him.
To Nox, the scene was ordinary, but to any outsider it could have been mistaken for the court of a goddess.
Prices were low on the land, meaning even nobles of modest means could afford such estates.
In the centre of the hall stood a broad, middle-aged man with a beautiful, short woman at his side. They were his parents, Annika and Algus van Strier.
They were a noble family, descendants of the legendary hero who had once saved a god, but to Nox they were just ordinary people.
Algus gazed at him with barely restrained pride, while Annika's hands trembled slightly as she adjusted her husband's cuff. However, Nox saw only the mundane in their grandeur: a house, a family, and a legacy he had yet to fell a part of.
"Nox, my son, where have you been? You need to prepare for tonight's festival," his mother said.
"Relax, Mum. There are still hours to go," Nox replied, a mixture of calmness and nervousness evident in his voice.
"Yes, honey. Our boy is growing up. After all, he could succeed me and become the family head someday."
Algus looked at Nox excitedly, as if waiting for him to agree. When Nox turned away, uninterested, his face mixed with frustration and expectation.
"His gaze seemed different today, but… he's the same as always," he thought, turning away with a disappointed grin.
Nox strolled through a magnificent, wide hallway and entered a room adorned with children's drawings.
A short, blonde maid stormed out as he entered. She was around Nox's age, her eyes flickering with panic.
"I'm so sorry, young master. I just wanted to make some tea, but I spilled the water and now the floor's all wet!"
"Don't worry, Lydia. Have you forgotten that I'm a mage?"
Nox stepped into the room and extended his arm toward an open window. With a quick movement of his hand, the droplets hovered in mid-air, trembling as if alive and reflecting the sunlight like tiny prisms.
At his command, they surged upward, spinning and twisting like a miniature storm, obeying his will entirely before bursting through the window in a sparkling arc. The sound of shattering splashes echoed faintly in the courtyard below.
Looking out the window, he saw a soaked butler looking around in confusion.
"Wow, that was so impressive! As expected of the young master," Lydia shouted, staring at him in disbelief.
She marched to the wardrobe and grabbed a pair of clothes.
"Please try these on before attending the ritual tonight," she said, leaving the room with hurried steps.
Nox's gaze swayed through the room, stopping at a large full-body mirror. He checked himself out before stepping closer in confusion.
"Since when's my hair that dark?"
He leaned closer, tilting his head until the light caught the features just right. He rubbed his cheek, trying to find something that wasn't there.
"The others didn't say anything, so it might just be my imagination."
Nox jumped onto the big bed, his body sinking deeper than usual. His eyelids sank, and the hum of the waking world faded into nothingness.
In that quiet void, he sensed a faint yet insistent presence, a whisper of power waiting to be claimed.
Nox allowed himself to drift, not knowing whether what was about to come was a gift or a warning.