The Beginning

A flame blazed across the sky, streaking like a comet of destruction.

Below it, a village smoldered in ruin. Charred houses collapsed in the distance. Smoke coiled through the air like snakes, blackening the twilight sky. Ash drifted like snow, settling on broken rooftops, shattered carts, and corpses.

The stench of burning flesh mixed with blood and wood. It was suffocating.

Bodies littered the dirt streets—hundreds, maybe thousands. A man lay with his head severed from his torso, eyes still open in terror. Another's intestines spilled onto the cobblestones, glistening. One had been nailed to a wall, a sword thrust through his mouth.

From within the fire, a figure emerged.

He walked slowly, like a shadow given form. His face hidden by the flickering darkness, he stepped on entrails with one foot, crushing a skull under the other. Unfazed. Silent.

Suddenly, movement stirred in the nearby trees. A dozen cloaked figures stepped out, surrounding him. Their black robes blended with the night.

Assassins.

The figure stopped.

One of them stepped forward. "This is your last day."

He flicked his wrist. A knife flew.

It missed—just barely—but sliced the man's cheek. Purple blood welled up.

The figure looked at it on his fingers... and smiled.

The assassins froze.

That smile didn't belong to a normal man. It whispered of something ancient, dangerous.

Then, it began.

A dark purple aura exploded from his body, rippling like waves. The air thickened. Leaves curled, trees trembled. Even fire bent backward, repelled by the force.

Some assassins hesitated. One stepped back.

"There are twelve of us!" barked their leader. "He's alone. Kill him!"

They charged.

The man only smiled wider.

He slit his palm.

Purple blood streamed out, glowing faintly. "You've made the worst mistake of your lives."

Before they could reach him, their bodies stopped mid-air. Frozen.

The aura wrapped around them like chains, lifting them into the sky. Their legs kicked. Eyes widened.

The man raised his hand—and slowly closed his fist.

Crack.

One assassin's ribcage collapsed. Another's spine twisted. Screams tore through the night as bones shattered one by one.

Blood burst from mouths, eyes, ears.

Then—boom.

A rain of flesh and bone.

He stood alone again. Silent.

He sat down among the ruins, blood coating his face.

"It all started eight years ago," he whispered, "when I was just a kid."

present time

Leon Graves was twelve years old, and today was the most important day of his life.

Morning sunlight streamed through the jungle canopy, dappling the dirt road. Birds chirped nervously—there were whispers of demons in these woods.

A wooden cart creaked forward, pulled by two black horses.

Leon sat quietly on its edge, boots muddy, eyes focused.

In the world of Astralis, four great nations floated like islands, surrounded by the endless Great Ocean. His homeland—Azrathis—was a kingdom ruled by strength. And that strength came from blood.

In Azrathis, blood wasn't just life. It was power.

The color of one's blood determined everything.

Most were born with red. Normal. Weak.

But those born with colored blood—blue, green, gold, purple—were touched by magic. Gifted.

On every child's twelfth birthday, they were sent to Astralis Academy, to awaken their true blood.

The cart rolled over a crooked root.

"Leoooooon!"

Leon turned.

Finn Carter came sprinting from behind, panting, hair wild, grinning wide.

"You didn't think you could leave without me, did you?"

Loud, energetic, and always late—Finn was the complete opposite of Leon. But they were inseparable.

They climbed aboard. Leon's family servant flicked the reins, and the cart rolled deeper into the forest.

The air grew heavier.

Tall, twisted trees loomed like guards. Vines hung low. Shadows danced along the path.

Even Finn went quiet.

Then—a scream.

A girl's scream.

The horses startled. Birds scattered from the trees.

Leon and Finn looked at each other.

"Did you hear that?" Finn whispered.

Leon nodded. "We need to check it out."

Their servant hesitated, but Leon's firm gaze settled it.

They turned toward the sound.

Soon, they reached a clearing.

Three broken carts blocked the path. In the center, a girl in a wheelchair clutched a white bunny to her chest, while two older boys jeered and pushed her.

One kicked her chair. The other laughed and tried to grab her bunny. She held it tighter.

Nearby, her servant was held down by two men, screaming in vain.

Leon's eyes narrowed. He knew the girl.

Amelie.

He jumped down from the cart.

"Hey!" Finn shouted. "Leave her alone!"

The bullies barely turned.

Leon stepped forward. "I'm from House Graves. Noble blood. Want to test me?"

The boys froze.

"Is he bluffing?" one whispered.

"We can't take the risk…"

They ran.

Amelie looked up, surprised.

Leon knelt beside her. "Are you okay?"

She smiled. A soft, real smile.

Behind them, Finn smirked. "Man, don't fall in love so fast."

"Shut up," Leon muttered, face pink.

"Thank you," Amelie said softly.

"Why were they hurting you?"

She looked down. "They were trying to burn my bunny. I stopped them... so they turned on me."

Finn's fists clenched. "Monsters."

Amelie giggled at his anger.

Leon's expression softened. He had known her since childhood. While training with swords, he'd always sneak off to visit her.

She had no friends. No one, except him.

"Your cart's broken," Leon said. "Want to ride with us?"

She hesitated—then nodded.

Night fell. Crickets chirped. The moonlight cut through the trees like blades.

They arrived at a village and booked a small inn.

Inside, a beautiful receptionist greeted them with a smile. Finn turned red and nearly tripped over his words.

Leon sighed and pulled him aside.

Amelie laughed behind them.

They booked three rooms.

Later that night, a soft knock.

Amelie wheeled into Leon's room.

She took his hand.

Leon's face turned red. "W-What are you—?"

"Shhh," she whispered. "You were hurt earlier. Let me apply medicine."

She pressed a cloth to his arm gently.

"Didn't your parents try to stop you from coming?" he asked, voice quiet.

Her hand paused. She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "They never cared. I'm better off without them."

Leon looked at her. Her loneliness matched his own.

"You're not alone," he said. "You have me. And Finn now, too."

She looked at him, heart full. "Thank you. For everything."

Their eyes met in silence.

Then she pulled away. "I should go."

Leon nodded.

After she left, Finn slipped back in.

He saw the blush on Leon's face… and just smirked.

The next morning, they arrived at Astralis Academy.

Massive gates loomed. Students bustled everywhere—over five thousand children from all over Azrathis.

Inside the gate, a statue of a man with a golden spear stood tall.

Leon whispered, "That's Zareth Kaine. Strongest warrior in 500 years. Seven years ago, he vanished into the Demon Forest. They say the Demon King—the Unmasked—killed him."

They stepped through the crowd.

Leon spotted the bullies from yesterday.

His eyes narrowed.

Finn stopped him. "Not worth it. Fighting's banned here."

Leon sighed.

Then, a loud horn blared.

An instructor's voice echoed: "All students, report to the central grounds."

At the heart of the academy stood a golden throne.

Upon it sat King Aldric Veyron, ruler of Azrathis. Eyes sharp, crown gleaming.

Beside him sat the heads of the four noble families: Everhart, Ravenshade, Beaumont, and Stormhale.

The instructor raised a crystal vial.

"This," he said, "contains the juice of the Celestara Fruit. Each of you will drink. If your blood changes… you are gifted. If not…"

A hush fell over the crowd.

One by one, students were called forward.

The moment had come.