Chapter 9 : Blindfold

Silence.

A silence so profound, so suffocating, that no one dared to break it.

The entire training ground stood frozen, unable to process what had just happened.

A five-year-old boy had awakened his mana core.

But no—this wasn't just a normal awakening. This wasn't something that could be explained by mere talent or luck.

It felt otherworldly. Monstrous.

Mana core awakenings required an awakening stone—a conduit to help someone touch mana for the first time, to gently guide it through their body. But Lucas had done it without one. He had done it with sheer will.

The destruction around them told the full story.

The training ground was unrecognizable. The once-solid earth had been reduced to cinders. The equipment? Burned beyond existence. Every structure, every piece of metal, every inch of the ground bore the mark of a god's wrath.

If not for Noah's protection, they would not have walked away unscathed.

And that thought alone filled them with something they had never expected to feel toward a child.

Fear.

Orion clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white. His entire body was trembling—not with cold, but with something far worse.

A primal instinct. A voice in his head whispering—step closer, and you will burn.

It infuriated him. His pride screamed in denial. How could he fear a five-year-old?! But no matter how hard he tried to suppress it, the feeling wouldn't go away.

Selena and Caius, both known for their unshakable calm, had nearly suffered a heart attack.

Dante, ever the smug and confident one, had gone completely silent. There was no humor left in him—only the lingering presence of death.

Even Aldred, who feared no opponent, who had fought on countless battlefields, found himself standing still.

A five-year-old should not feel like a threat. And yet, he did.

And Ester?

She didn't hesitate.

The moment she saw her son standing there, eyes wide, body trembling with the aftershock of his own power, she ran to him.

Noah was still.

He didn't need to process it. He already knew.

His son had awakened.

And when he looked into Lucas' eyes—

He took a step forward.

Lucas' POV

None of this concerned Lucas.

Because right now—he was drowning in euphoria.

Something inside him had clicked into place.

He felt whole.

It was like a missing piece of his very being had suddenly woken up—aware, alive.

Before him, a golden screen floated in the air.

[Congratulations, Host. You have awakened.]

Lucas' lips twitched. 'Oh, now you show up?'

After all this time without a sign of the system, after nearly giving up hope that it even existed, now it decides to greet him?

He wanted to laugh—but before he could focus on the screen, voices called out to him.

"Lucas."

"Son."

Ester's eyes were filled with worry. Noah's face, usually so unreadable, was tense with concern.

Lucas met their gaze, and warmth filled his chest.

They weren't afraid of him. They weren't staring at him like a monster.

They cared. They only wanted to know if he was alright.

And then—he looked at everyone else.

Flinch.

The reaction was instant.

The moment his gaze met theirs, they recoiled.

Some took an involuntary step back. Others stiffened, their bodies locking up as if standing before a being they couldn't comprehend.

And then—the heat rose.

A few of them started sweating profusely. Then came the burning. Their skin reddened. Their bodies heated unnaturally.

They were about to combust.

Lucas instinctively shut his eyes immediately.

The heat vanished. The air cooled.

Silence returned.

It was in that moment that everyone—Noah, Ester, Aldred, Orion—and even Lucas himself finally understood.

Lucas' eyes weren't normal.

On that day, Lucas Ignis started wearing a blindfold.

On that day, the world learned a simple truth—when Lucas removed his blindfold, death would follow.

And so, on that day, a Legend was born. The legend of The Shrouded Pyre.

Meanwhile – The Territory of the Mindweaver Clan

Far from the burning ruins of the training ground, in a city made of silver, a girl stirred from her sleep.

Everything in this place—the roads, the buildings, even the trees—gleamed with a metallic sheen. Every structure bore the same insignia: A silver eye wearing a silver crown.

The symbol of the Mindweavers.

The masters of fate. The seers of truth. The ones who knew.

And in the heart of the city, within a grand silver mansion, a young girl sat up in bed.

She looked no older than twelve.

Yet when her silver eyes opened, they shone with something far beyond her years.

She is Iris. Iris Mindweaver, The Heir of the Mindweaver Duke Family.

Before her, a man dressed in a pristine butler's uniform stood at attention. Albert, a veteran servant of the Mindweavers.

The girl's voice was sweet—sickeningly so, yet disturbingly hollow.

"Albert."

The butler bowed. "Yes, my lady?"

She tilted her head. "What did Mother say about my request?"

Albert remained expressionless. He had served the Mindweaver family for far too long to be disturbed by their peculiarities.

"The Lady has agreed to contact Duke Ignis," he said evenly. "A meeting will be arranged to discuss the possibility of your engagement to the heir of House Ignis."

Silence.

Then—a smile.

A shudder crawled down Albert's spine.

This was not a normal smile.

This was obsession.

'Finally.'

She had waited long enough.

Since the day of her own awakening, she had seen glimpses of him—her fire. In her dreams, in the whispers of fate, in the ever-burning vision that scorched itself into her mind. She had felt him, known him, longed for him.

And now?

She knew. He had awakened. The world had changed.

Her lips curled into a slow, deliberate smile—a thing too sharp, too knowing, too dangerous for a child.

Albert took an unconscious step back.

Then she whispered, her voice carrying an unshakable certainty, an unholy devotion:

"Lucas Ignis… wait for me."

And as she spoke, the silver sigil of the Mindweaver family pulsed with an eerie glow—fate itself shifting in recognition.

End of the Chapter