Starting is a bit slow but i advise you to read this completely.
Also gib powerwtone pls
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37 years ago
CRACK!
A deafening peal of thunder split the night, shaking the Kira Estate as if the heavens themselves were roaring in protest.
Rain pounded the windows relentlessly, drowning out the hurried footsteps and frantic shouts within.
"Her mana is destabilizing! She won't last much longer!"
Abigail Kira writhed on the bloodied sheets, her screams ragged, each one weaker than the last.
Sweat poured down her pale face as her body convulsed under the immense strain of the magic within her.
"Aaahhh!" Her cry mingled with the storm's ferocity.
Seven doctors surrounded her, hands glowing with spells, their faces twisted in desperation.
Magical experts worked alongside them, casting barrier after barrier to protect her from the oppressive energy emanating from within her womb.
"The child's mana is consuming her! It's like a poison—uncontrolled and growing stronger!"
" Then deliver the child early!" demanded an elder from the doorway, his face grim. "Lady Abigail must survive. If she dies, House Kira dies with her!"
"But the child—" another doctor began.
"I don't care!" the elder snapped. "Do it now!"
The lead doctor gave a sharp nod. "Prepare the mana field. We'll deliver the baby now. There's no other choice!"
A flash of lightning illuminated the room, revealing their terror-stricken faces.
Boom!
The thunder followed, shaking the chandelier above.
As the magical spell was cast to induce labor, Abigail's screams tore through the room, piercing even the storm outside.
"Push, Lady Abigail! Just a little more!"
Her voice faltered, her strength fading, and the room fell silent for a moment. Then—
WAAAAAAHHHH!
The baby's first cry shattered the air like an explosion.
"What is happening?!"
A surge of raw mana erupted from the infant, rippling outward with a force that threw the nearest doctor across the room.
His body slammed into the wall with a sickening CRUNCH before crumpling lifelessly to the floor.
"Shield up!" one of the mages shouted, but his barrier shattered instantly as another pulse of energy rolled through the room.
Instruments melted, curtains burst into blue flames, and the very air shimmered with power.
"His mana—it's uncontrollable!" a nurse screamed, her skin struggling to hold against the violent waves.
Another doctor stepped forward, determined to hold the newborn.
The moment his hands touched the baby, his flesh blackened, the mana incinerating him from the inside out.
He fell with a choked gasp, his body smoldering with flames.
"Don't touch him without a mana barrier! You'll die!"
The room descended into chaos. Blood pooled beneath Abigail, now unconscious, her life barely clinging to the edge.
The child's cries continued, each one unleashing another devastating wave. Walls cracked, their surfaces scorched as if kissed by fire.
The ceiling groaned under the strain, debris falling in small showers.
"Contain him!" shouted the head mage, but his command was futile.
The barriers collapsed as fast as they were erected.
A nurse finally managed to form the thickest mana skin spell she could muster, her hands trembling as she lifted the infant.
Even then, her face contorted in pain as his energy threatened to pierce her defenses.
"His eyes," she whispered in horror, staring into the pupil less glowing orbs of the child. "They're... not human."
The storm outside raged on, a fitting mirror to the destruction within.
By the time the baby's mana had finally subsided, the delivery room was unrecognizable.
The walls bore scorched marks, blackened shadows frozen in the stone like haunting specters of what had transpired.
Abigail lay unconscious but alive, saved at the cost of those who had tried to help. The remnants of her room spoke of the devastation wrought by her newborn son.
In the nurse's trembling arms, the child let out a soft whimper, his eyes dimming as the energy around him finally faded.
But the damage was done.
Nero Kira's birth was not an ordinary one—it was a calamity, a moment that etched itself into the annals of House Kira as the day a god was born within its walls.
---
Five years later
"Where could my little knight be hiding?" Abigail's teasing voice rang through the lush garden of the Vermillion Estate, accompanied by the soft rustling of leaves.
She crouched near the rose bushes, pretending to inspect them. "Hmm, perhaps he's behind this tree?"
From his spot tucked behind the large oak, Nero stifled a giggle.
His eyes peeked out briefly, watching his mother scan the area.
His mana flared faintly in excitement, a subtle shift in the air that Abigail immediately sensed.
"Ah-ha!" she declared, spinning around and pointing directly at him. "Found you!"
But Nero was already darting out from his hiding spot, his laugh trailing behind him as he tried to escape her reach.
His small legs moved with surprising speed and precision, a testament to his advanced growth.
"Too slow, Mother!" he called, a playful smirk on his face that made him look far older than his five years.
"Too slow?" Abigail feigned offense, hands on her hips. "We'll see about that!"
She bolted after him, the lightness of her steps and the warmth in her smile a stark contrast to the stern Magic Knight she had once been.
As she closed in on him, Nero made a sharp turn, ducking past a cluster of flowers.
From her seat on the porch, Lady Vermillion chuckled softly. "You've got your hands full, Abigail. He's as slippery as his father used to be."
Three-year-old Mereoleona sat beside her, bundled in a blanket.
Her cheeks were flushed from her fever, and she pouted as she watched Nero and Abigail run around. "I wanna play..," she mumbled, her voice thick with frustration.
"Soon, darling," Lady Vermillion said gently, stroking her daughter's fiery hair. "When you're better, you'll show him how fast a Vermillion can be."
"Time's up!" Abigail called suddenly, halting in the middle of the garden. "It's time for me to leave now, Nero."
The boy slowed to a stop, his smile fading slightly.
He walked back to his mother with a small nod, his expression uncharacteristically serious for someone his age. "Okay Mother" he said quietly.
Abigail knelt down to his level, her hands resting on his small shoulders. "You were so quick today. I'll have to be faster next time, won't I?"
He gave a faint smile. "I'll always be faster, Mother."
She chuckled, leaning forward to kiss his forehead. "I'll hold you to that." With a glance at Lady Vermillion, she stood and began walking toward the estate's gates.
Nero watched her go, his gaze steady and unblinking until she disappeared from sight.
The sadness of her absence settled on him quickly.
He turned back toward the porch, his earlier excitement now replaced with a quiet frown.
"Come here, Nero," Lady Vermillion called softly, patting the empty spot beside her.
He hesitated for a moment before trudging over, his steps heavier than before.
Climbing onto the porch, he settled beside her.
Mereoleona reached out weakly, tugging at his sleeve.
"Why you stop playing?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"There's no one else to play with," he replied simply, his tone mature beyond his years.
Lady Vermillion smiled warmly, drawing him closer. "Then rest for a while. You've had a busy day."
Before he could protest, her hand began stroking his hair, a soothing rhythm that he couldn't resist.
His mana flared briefly in response to her touch but quickly settled as he allowed himself to relax.
Mereoleona shifted closer to him, her small body leaning against his side. "Me too..," she mumbled, her eyes already fluttering shut.
He huffed softly but didn't respond.
Within moments, the warmth of Lady Vermillion's lap and the soft rise and fall of Mereoleona's breathing lulled him into sleep.
The garden grew quiet, the only sounds now the gentle rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of birds.
Lady Vermillion looked down at the two children resting against her, a serene expression on her face.
"Such remarkable little ones," she murmured, her voice barely audible.
"They'll surely grow to do great things."
---
Five years later..
Abigail sat at the head of the long, ornate table, her spine stiff and her expression impassive despite the exhaustion weighing her down.
The meeting hall, once a place of pride for the Kira family, now felt like hostile territory.
The branch families filled the room with their whispers, their sideways glances, and their barely concealed smirks.
They didn't even pretend to respect her anymore.
Her mana flared weakly beneath her skin, a constant reminder of how much she had lost.
The battles, the years, and Nero's birth after her husband's death had left her drained—both physically and emotionally.
Once a renowned magic knight, now, she could barely summon enough power to quiet a room, let alone command the deference she once had.
And they knew it.
The side branches, emboldened by her weakness, had grown restless, their ambitions unchecked.
Her diminished strength had given rise to turbulence within the Kira house, and this meeting was just another battlefield where they sought to undermine her authority.
Victor, one of the more vocal heads of the side branches, rose from his chair, his voice carrying a sharp edge as he spoke. "Lady Abigail, I believe it's time we stop pretending that the main house is capable of leading us. The glory of the Kira name cannot rest on the shoulders of a crippled knight and a child."
The words struck like a blade, but Abigail didn't flinch.
Her fingers tightened around the armrests of her chair as she prepared to respond, but Victor wasn't done.
"You should step down," he said, his tone oozing condescension. "Leave the strength of the house to those who can handle it."
" Spend the rest of your days raising your son instead of pretending to hold any real power."
The laughter that followed felt like daggers, each one stabbing deeper into her pride.
The elders weren't there to protect her anymore as her allies had been slowly shipped away over the decade.
The room echoed with it, the branch members making no effort to conceal their amusement.
No one spoke up in her defense; why would they she has been an eyesore in their path to power since day one.
Abigail's eyes burned as her mana surged, casting the room in a faint glow.
The oppressive pressure made Victor stumble back, his laughter choking off as he stared at her with wide eyes.
"Enough," she said, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
The mana swirling around her cowed Victor, forcing him back into his seat.
But the effort left her breathless, the weakness in her body betraying her.
She could see it in their eyes—they weren't afraid, not really.
They were just biding their time.
The meeting ended soon after, the nobles filing out with smug expressions and whispered conversations.
Abigail sat in her chair, letting out a slow, shaky breath as the tension in her shoulders eased her hands trembling a little.
She had held them off for now, but it wasn't enough.
The side branches would grow bolder with each passing day.
They saw her as a shadow of the leader she once was, and Nero—despite his immense potential—was still too young to command their respect.
The weight of the Kira family's legacy pressed down on her like a mountain, and for a moment, she felt utterly alone.
That was when she heard the sound of footsteps.
Abigail turned, expecting one of the branch heads to return with more complaints.
Instead, she saw Nero standing in the doorway, his small frame bathed in the dim light of the hall.
His face was expressionless, his dark eyes fixed on something far away.
"Nero," she began, her voice weary. "You shouldn't be here."
But he didn't respond.
He walked past her, his steps deliberate and slow, and entered the hall before any of the nobles could leave.
The room fell silent as the boy stood there, his presence commanding an attention far beyond his years.
The nobles exchanged uneasy glances, unsure of what the young master intended.
"What is the boy doing—" Victor began, but his words were cut off as Nero raised a hand and placed it on Victor's arm.
The explosion of mana was instantaneous.
Blue flames erupted from Nero's touch, engulfing Victor in a searing inferno.
The man's screams filled the hall as his body was consumed, the raw, untamed power leaving nothing but ashes in its wake.
Abigail shot to her feet, her heart pounding in her chest. "Nero!" she cried, but her son didn't seem to hear her.
His dark eyes turned to the rest of the room, his voice cold and steady. "No news of this shall leave this room. And if anyone of you dares to say anything remotely close to Mother like that again, I'll wipe you out."
The nobles froze, their faces pale and stricken.
None of them dared to move, let alone speak.
Abigail's breath caught as she stared at her son.
He was only ten years old, but in that moment, he seemed far older—more a force of nature than a child.
His raw mana pulsed through the room, oppressive beyond belief, leaving no doubt in anyone's mind about the threat he posed.
Abigail stood frozen for a moment, her breath catching as she watched Victor's body dissolve into ash before her eyes.
The other nobles were silent, too afraid to make a sound as they hurried ro leave.
The raw power that radiated from Nero was unlike anything she had ever seen.
Yet, as she stared at him, the overwhelming sense of helplessness she had been carrying for so long surged back.
Her body trembled as she approached him, her heart aching.
They had been left alone in the hall now.
The proud, powerful woman who had once commanded armies now felt so small in the presence of her son's power.
Her hands, once steady and confident, shook as she reached out to him.
"Nero," she whispered, her voice breaking.
The words escaped in a choked sob. "I'm so sorry…"
He didn't move.
His dark eyes were still cold, unblinking, as though the gravity of the moment hadn't fully reached him.
But then, he did something that made her heart break all over again.
He lowered his gaze, and for a moment, she saw a flicker of something—vulnerability? Regret?
And then he stepped toward her, just as she collapsed into a kneeling position before him.
She opened her arms, and without hesitation, Nero walked into them.
She held him tightly, burying her face in his shoulder as tears welled in her eyes. She hadn't cried in years.
She had always prided herself on being strong, being the pillar of the Kira house, but in this moment, all the weight of her failures, her fragility, and the endless strain of trying to hold everything together came crashing down on her.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice muffled by the fabric of his clothes. "I couldn't protect you… I couldn't protect us."
Her tears soaked into his shoulder as she held him tighter, feeling the weight of her guilt in every sob. "I was supposed to be strong for you, but I'm not… I'm not strong anymore, Nero."
Her fingers clutched the back of his shirt as she cried, a mix of grief and regret flooding through her.
She had failed him.
She had failed the Kira house.
And now it was her son who had to carry such a burden on his small, young shoulders.
Nero said nothing.
His arms were stiff, but after a few moments, she felt him slowly wrap his arms around her in return.
It wasn't the comfort she had hoped for, but it was something—something that reassured her that, even in her weakness, he was there.
She pulled back slightly, looking up into his eyes. "You're… you're too young for all of this," she whispered, her voice cracking again. "I'm sorry for dragging you into this."
His gaze softened, just a touch, but his expression remained serious, mature beyond his years.
The coldness in his eyes had faded, but she could still see the traces of the raw power that simmered beneath the surface.
"You don't have to apologize, Mother," Nero said quietly, his voice steady despite his youth. "You did what you could. And now… it's my turn."
Her chest tightened at his words, and she hugged him even tighter.
His strength was undeniable, and it scared her to see such an expression on her young son.
"I'll protect you," he added, his voice barely above a whisper. "I won't let anyone hurt you again."
The words stung, not out of anger, but from the truth they carried.
He had already taken a step into the world she had once ruled, a world she no longer had the strength to control.
Abigail closed her eyes, holding him for a moment longer, letting the tears fall freely now.
She was no longer the fierce knight who commanded armies.
She was just a mother, holding onto her son as the weight of the world pressed down on them both.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered again, her heart breaking. "I should have been stronger… but I'll help you however I can...."
---
Present day
[ After the Ritual]
Abigail lay in her bed, the dull light from the window barely filtering through the drawn curtains.
Her once radiant, powerful form had withered into a shadow of its former self. Now nearly 65, her body was a fragile shell, failing in ways no one had anticipated.
Her sight was almost gone, only fragments of light and darkness now visible to her.
Every breath was a struggle, each one more labored than the last.
Her once mighty magical strength had waned over the years, and now, artificial organs replaced the ones that had failed her.
Magical constructs crafted by Barbara Gunnhildr, the genius doctor Nero had picked for his squad, were all that kept her alive—kept her tethered to a life she didn't care to live much longer.
She had long since resigned herself to the inevitable end, even as her son, Nero, became more and more like the unstoppable force that haunted her every thought.
He had grown so distant, and she knew, deep down, it wasn't just the demands of leadership or the weight of the Kira legacy that drove him away.
Something inside him had changed—he was becoming something… different. Something she wasn't sure she had the strength to reach anymore.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the soft sound of a door creaking open, followed by footsteps.
A warm, familiar presence filled the room, and she knew instantly who it was.
Nero.
She could barely make out his form against the dim light, but the warmth of his energy was unmistakable.
He approached her bed silently, as always, and took a seat beside her.
She felt his hand on hers—his grip firm, yet gentle.
She smiled faintly, even though she could no longer see the face of the boy she once held in her arms.
"Nero…" her voice was weak, frail from years of disuse. "Is... somthing wrong son?"
He didn't respond immediately.
Instead, he squeezed her hand tighter, the silence stretching on for a moment too long.
She could hear the quiet rustle of his clothing, the sound of a spell being cast, and then… nothing.
The world outside the room disappeared, the soft hum of activity in the hall muted to nothing.
No sounds of footsteps, no whispers, no nurses checking in.
It was just her and him.
She wanted to speak, to ask what was bothering him, but she could feel the tension in the air.
Abigail's hand trembled as she held Nero's, her frail fingers struggling to maintain their grip.
She could hear his breathing—steady, controlled, but there was something in the air.
A heaviness. She couldn't see his face, not clearly, but she could feel his presence.
The silence in the room was thick, and it was only when he spoke that the quiet finally broke.
"I've found… some things, Mother," he said, his voice low but steady, like the calm before a storm.
He paused, as though struggling to find the right words, before continuing. "Some truths about myself."
Abigail's heart skipped a beat.
She could feel the weight of his words, the unspoken tension behind them.
She wanted to speak, to comfort him, but she stayed quiet, allowing him to continue.
"There are days… when I feel like I'm not who I used to be. Like I'm slipping away from everything that I was. I don't feel… human anymore. I don't even know how to explain it. But I'm scared of what I'm becoming," Nero admitted, his voice quieter now, almost as if he was speaking to himself.
Abigail felt the tremor in his hand. He was scared.
Of what? Of himself? Of the power inside him? She didn't know, but the raw emotion in his words hit her harder than she expected.
For a moment, she couldn't find the strength to say anything.
She just held his hand tighter, wishing she could wipe away his fears.
But she knew that wasn't possible.
She could barely fuction.
Still, she tried to offer him something, even if it was small.
"I don't know what's happening to me, Mother," he continued, voice breaking slightly. "But I can feel it. The more I try to hold on to who I am, the more I feel like I'm losing myself.... It's like something inside of me is changing… and I'm scared of what I might end up as....amd what I'm about to do."
Abigail's breath caught in her throat as she felt the weight of his words. He wasn't asking for answers.
He wasn't telling her everything, but he was letting her in, even if just a little.
And that was more than enough.
"I don't know what to do anymore," he said quietly. "I don't know how to stop it. I don't know if I even want to."
She felt his tears then, soft against her hand, and her heart broke for him.
She couldn't make it better. She couldn't fix it.
But she could listen. She could be here, with him, when he needed her the most.
"You don't have to know everything, Nero," she whispered, her voice faint but steady. "Sometimes one has no choice except to live in this confusing world."
"I can't do much for you son anymore but the least i can ask of you is offer my presence, i can not begin to fathom what might have led for you to suffer this way but i assure you Nero even if the world may say otherwise you are the kindest."
Her words seemed to calm him, at least for now.
He leaned his head against the bed, his breathing evening out as he rested there, both of them in the quiet after the storm.
Nero's voice came again, softer this time, like a sigh. "Thank you, Mother. I… I needed this."
Abigail smiled faintly, her heart heavy with love for him.
She couldn't give him all the answers, but she could give him her presence, her love.
=========================
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