September 9th, 2027.
The cries of a woman echoed through the sterile, brightly lit corridors of the Ashbluff estate. Doctors moved swiftly in and out of the delivery room, their faces taut with focus. Valen Ashbluff, the King of the West, stood leaning against the cold metal wall outside. His stoic expression was betrayed only by the faint purse of his lips and the rhythmic tapping of his right fingers against the hilt of the dagger at his waist.
From inside, Camila's screams intensified, piercing through the heavy steel doors. Valen's lips tightened further, and for a fleeting moment, a glimmer of unease flashed in his dark eyes.
'We should have just gone with artificial wombs,' he thought bitterly. 'Who cares if the child can't use mana… it's better than her enduring this much pain!'
But Valen knew better. In the Ashbluff family, children born without the ability to wield mana were seen as expendable, their fates sealed from birth. The thought was a jagged stone lodged in his chest.
The screaming ebbed, fading into silence that felt heavier than the noise before it. Valen's heart thudded in his chest as the magnetic door finally hissed open. A doctor stepped out, bowing low.
"Your Majesty," the doctor said with practiced reverence. "Her Majesty has delivered safely. Please, come inside."
Without hesitation, Valen strode into the room, his footsteps measured but brisk. Inside, he found Camila reclining on the pristine white bed, her face pale and sweat-drenched but radiant with a tired smile. In her arms, she cradled two newborns wrapped in soft, silken cloth.
Valen's breath caught as he approached. "Twins?" he murmured, his voice uncharacteristically soft.
"Twins," Camila confirmed, her eyes glowing with pride. She looked up at the medical staff, who stood nearby, their heads bowed. "Thank you all. You may leave us."
The staff bowed deeply. "Congratulations, Your Majesties," they said in unison before exiting the room, leaving the family alone.
"Come here, Valen," Camila urged, gesturing him forward. "Hold them."
Tentatively, Valen stepped closer. He reached out and gently lifted the infant resting in Camila's right arm. The baby's tiny weight settled in his hands, and for a moment, the stoic King's features softened.
"That's our daughter," Camila said with a weary smile. "What shall we name them?"
Valen gazed down at the two children, their identical black hair and eyes reflecting his own. His lips curved into the faintest of smiles.
"Rin and Jin," he said decisively.
Camila's smile widened. "Perfect."
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Years passed, and the twins grew together, their stoic and composed natures mirroring their parents. By the age of five, it was time for them to awaken their mana cores, a sacred ritual within the Ashbluff family.
Jin went first. The room buzzed with anticipation as the appraiser conducted the ritual. Mana swirled around the boy, and a moment later, the appraiser's face lit up with excitement.
"You have the Gift of Necromancer's Touch!" the appraiser announced.
Valen's chest swelled with pride. The Gift of Necromancer's Touch—a cornerstone of the Ashbluff family's legacy. He placed a firm hand on Jin's head, giving him an approving nod.
Then, it was Rin's turn.
The mana in the room seemed to shift, growing darker, heavier, as it coalesced around the girl. Her black hair shimmered ominously under the flickering light. The appraiser leaned in, his expression tense.
And then…
Blood splattered.
The appraiser let out a strangled cry as he stumbled backward, clutching a deep wound that had appeared across his chest. Valen's eyes widened in shock as he instantly reacted, twisting the ambient mana in the room to lock Rin in place.
"Rin?" he said carefully, his voice low and steady.
Rin's dark eyes flicked to her father. They were cold, devoid of the warmth or innocence of a child. Her lips twisted into a snarl.
"Kill," she hissed, her voice unnatural and chilling. "Kill. Kill."
Valen's heart sank. He took a step closer, his hand trembling ever so slightly. "Sleep," he whispered, pouring his mana into the command. Rin's body slackened as she collapsed into unconsciousness.
He turned to the appraiser, who was still clutching his wound, his face pale with terror.
"What the hell is wrong with her?" Valen barked, his voice sharp enough to cut steel.
The appraiser dropped to his knees, bowing deeply despite his injury. "Y-Your Majesty," he stammered. "Your daughter… she has a black mana Gift!"
For a moment, the room was silent. Then, Valen's mana surged, crackling with an intensity that made the air vibrate. His expression darkened, his mind racing.
"None of you will speak a word of this outside this estate," he growled, his voice a low rumble that brooked no argument. "From this moment forward… Rin Ashbluff, the princess of the West, is dead."
The appraiser nodded frantically, trembling under the weight of Valen's aura.
And so, Rin Ashbluff was sealed away by her father, confined to her bedroom as the world outside continued to turn, oblivious to the storm brewing within the Ashbluff estate.
Valen and Camila worked tirelessly in secret, combing through ancient texts, consulting forbidden grimoires, and even beseeching the aid of reclusive sages. Their goal was singular: to save Rin.
Valen no longer cared about Magnus Draykar's rise to prominence or how his own power waned with the seal that bound Rin. His focus was absolute. Rin was his daughter, and he would defy gods and demons alike to save her.
But it was impossible.
Black mana. The curse of humanity. Instead of normal mana, Rin was born an anomaly, a human touched by black mana and bearing the Gift of Duality. The Gift corrupted her consciousness, twisting her instincts to seek the destruction of humanity. Her very existence was a paradox—a child who loved her family yet was driven to destroy them.
Valen stared at the sealed door to her room one evening, his hands trembling. Camila placed a hand on his shoulder, her expression a mirror of his own despair.
"We can't save her," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Not like this."
"She'll surpass me soon," Valen said, his voice hollow. "And when she does, the Ashbluff family will fall."
Years later, in the present, Rin appeared before Arthur at the door to her mind.
Her black hair flowed freely, and her eyes, unclouded by black mana, gleamed with an unsettling clarity. She looked almost serene, but her words were anything but.
"You saw it, didn't you?" she said, her voice melodious but edged with cold finality. "I'm going to kill my own family."
Arthur studied her carefully. This Rin was different from the one he had seen in Valen's memories. This was Rin untainted, a fragment of what could have been.
"Just kill me already," Rin said, a shallow smile playing on her lips. "Me being alive is the worst crime possible."
"Sorry, but no," Arthur replied, shrugging as though her request were no more significant than asking for the time.
Rin's expression darkened. "I won't thank you for saving me," she said. "I just want to die so I won't be a burden to my family anymore. I don't feel. I can't exist. Don't save me. Don't care about me. Just kill me."
Arthur's gaze didn't waver. "You love them, don't you?" he asked simply.
Rin flinched. "I do," she admitted. "How can I not love my own family?"
"Then you want to give up on them?" Arthur's voice sharpened. "After your father sealed you for eighteen years, desperately trying to find a way to save you? You want to throw that away? You're stupid."
Rin's composure cracked. "No, you don't understand, I am—"
"I know who you are," Arthur interrupted, his tone firm. "And I don't care."
Before she could respond, Arthur stepped forward, his resolve unwavering.
And thus, Arthur entered the world of her mind fully.