Chapter 1: The Weight Of A Name

The sun hung low over the towering walls of Valeria, one of the grand cities under the empire's rule. The city bustled with life—merchants peddling their wares, knights marching in formation, and noble clans flaunting their power in lavish carriages. Yet, in one of the less distinguished districts, a boy stood alone in the training yard of the Raelith estate, fists clenched as he struggled to control his breath.

Elias Raelith. A noble by birth, yet treated as if he were anything but.

"Again!" A gruff voice barked. His father, Lord Dorian Raelith, crossed his arms as he watched his son struggle against his opponent.

Elias lunged forward, sword in hand, his brown hair damp with sweat. His opponent—a cousin from a distant branch of the Raelith family—smirked as he effortlessly deflected the strike and countered with a crushing blow to Elias's ribs. The impact sent Elias sprawling onto the dirt.

Laughter echoed from the sidelines.

"Pathetic. Are you sure he's a noble?"

"More like a peasant who got lucky with a last name."

Elias bit his tongue as he pushed himself to his feet. He had heard those words too many times before. The Raelith family had once been a proud clan, but years of decline had stripped them of their influence. Now, they were seen as nothing more than relics of a forgotten past, barely clinging to nobility.

His father sighed, shaking his head. "Enough for today. Elias, clean yourself up."

Elias's grip tightened around his sword, but he said nothing. The fight was over, and once again, he had proven himself unworthy in their eyes.

That night, he sat alone on the balcony of their modest estate, staring up at the twin moons. His mana core hummed faintly within him, its energy untapped, restrained. He had affinities for four elements—something unheard of—but without proper training, they were a burden rather than a gift.

"Four elements and yet you lose to a single elemental," he muttered bitterly to himself.

The stars seemed indifferent to his frustration. But deep within him, something stirred. A presence, faint yet vast—like a whisper from the void itself. It had always been there, lurking at the edges of his consciousness, but he had never dared to reach for it.

Not yet.