Prologue: A beggar's end

Not by choice. Hunger had its own schedule, and it never let him rest for long.

Tonight, though, the cold didn't bother him as much. He curled into the ragged blanket he had stolen, his mind elsewhere, lost in dreams of a different life.

One month. That was all.

In one month, the Academy entrance exam would take place, and for once, even a beggar like him had a chance.

Maybe he had a hidden bloodline. Maybe he would awaken power—like so many others had before him.

Maybe he wasn't meant to be weak.

His family had died for nothing—a casualty of some careless experiment by the monster who ruled this town. Their lives had been erased, and no one had cared.

But deep down, he knew the truth—nothing he wanted ever lasted.

The town, despite its grim reality, held opportunities not found elsewhere. Being so close to the Magic Forest, where one of the Legendary Nine resided, meant the rules were different. It was a place where the strong thrived, where ambition could outweigh birthright. Even the current King of the Realm had once been a farmer before his bloodline manifested.

But if he passed the exam—if he became something more—then maybe, just maybe, he could make the world care.

With that final thought, he let sleep take him, unaware that the night would shatter his dreams before they even had a chance to begin.

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The first explosion ripped through the night, and he awoke choking on dust.

For a moment, confusion gripped him—was the town under attack?

Then he saw the sky.

It was wrong.

Magic twisted the heavens into something unnatural, flames and lightning clashing like vengeful gods.

The town was in chaos—men, women, and knights fleeing, their shouts drowned out by the roar of two figures battling above them.

One of them, he recognized instantly.

The town's protector. Alister, The Legendary Mage.

And he was bleeding.

For the first time in his life, the beggar saw the untouchable god of the city wounded.

And something inside him broke free.

A laugh—hoarse, bitter, uncontrollable.

So it was finally happening. The monster was going to die.

The invading mage looked stronger, faster, merciless. The town's so-called protector was losing.

He laughed again, shoulders shaking, not out of joy, but out of twisted justice.

"You finally get to feel what we felt."

His mother. His father. His siblings. They had all burned because of this mage's experiments.

For so long, he had believed the mage to be untouchable, invincible—a god who walked the earth unchecked. But now, his blood dripped onto the ground like anyone else's. A crack in the sky, a break in the legend.

Maybe he had a chance. Maybe this war would rid the world of him. Maybe justice, at long last, was real.

But even as he laughed, a part of him hesitated. Would it last? Could anything ever last?

His laughter turned wild, his chest shaking, his throat raw. He clutched his sides, tears forming at the edges of his vision. The people the mage had crushed, the lives he had burned—all of them, finally avenged.

Now it was his turn.

And maybe—just maybe—he would follow them.

————————————————————————————————————————————

The battle raged above him. Power shook the very air, warping reality itself.

He saw the Legendary Mage's staff crack, his breath ragged, blood seeping into his robes.

The invading mage smiled. "This is where you fall."

The beggar's grin widened. Yes. Let him fall. Let them all fall.

But then—the world betrayed him.

A great groan of wood and stone split the air as the shattered remains of a building finally gave way. He turned, just in time to see the splintered beams collapsing toward him.

He tried to move, but he was too slow, too weak, too insignificant.

A jagged wooden stake, thick as his arm, drove straight through his chest.

His chest caved, pinning him like an insect. He gasped, but his lungs wouldn't obey. Blood filled his throat, thick and metallic. His fingers twitched uselessly, the weight pressing down harder, harder.

There was no moment of pain, no time to scream—just impact, weight, and a sickening crunch.

His thoughts blurred, but in those final moments, realization set in.

He had survived too many times already. He should have died with his family. He should have died in the winter. He should have died a thousand times. But he never did.

Of course.

It never lasts.

His whole life had been one long cruel joke. Every time he found hope, it was ripped away from him. Every moment of safety, every dream, all gone in an instant.

Was it bad luck? Or was this his fate all along?

His fingers twitched. His lips curled, but no laughter came.

He had wanted to see the mage fall.

But he never got to see the end.

And then, before his body could even grow cold—before his thoughts could fully fade—

The world exploded.

————————————————————————————————————————————

Fire swallowed everything. The streets, the people, the sky itself—erased in a storm of magic that defied reality.

Nothing should have survived.

And yet.

In the next moment, everything slowed. The fire flickered unnaturally, the sound of battle became distant, muffled, like the world itself was waiting. And then—

A breath.

A gasp.

And then, eyes opened.