The first time it had appeared to him, when he was just a toddler, he hadn't known what it was. But now, as he sat among the scattered books in the grand library, it was clear. The Status window hovered before him, as natural as breathing, as if it had always been there—waiting to be acknowledged.
A faint shimmer in the air, and the Status appeared again.
[Status]
Name: Azriel Voidus
Age: 4
Race: Human
Bloodline: Locked
Affinity: Shadow, Lightning, Space, Locked, Locked
Titles: None
Rank: E
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Attributes:
Strength: E
Agility: E
Endurance: E
Vitality: E
Intelligence: S+
Charm: S+
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Skills:
All-seeing Eyes (Unique): Partially Locked
He could see the Status clearly, as though it was an open book written just for him. The information, the attributes—everything was there, laid bare before him. As a child, it was difficult to grasp the full meaning of what he was seeing, but even at his young age, Azriel knew this window was special. It wasn't just a glimpse of his current standing—it was a reflection of who he could become, of the latent potential waiting to awaken within him.
The most noticeable part of the Status was his Intelligence and Charm—both rated as S+, an extraordinary score for anyone, let alone a child his age. It was no surprise; Azriel's mind had always been sharp. He learned faster than anyone around him could keep up, his understanding of complex concepts baffling even the greatest minds in the Voidus family. His ability to recall and process information seemed almost unnatural—yet, it was always there, driving him forward, a constant companion that made him unique.
And then, there was his Affinity—a rare and remarkable gift that made Azriel stand apart even in a world full of prodigies. Most people only awakened one or two affinity, a few exceptional individuals might possess three, but four or even five affinities? That was something virtually unheard of. The only living person who had ever achieved such a feat was the current headmaster of the nation's most prestigious academy: the Academy of Mystara.
Ragnar Stormbringer was not just a legend of the past, but an active force in the present, revered for his unmatched mastery over four affinities. He had carved his way to the top of the raider ranks and remained a towering figure in both magic and politics.
And Azriel? He was already on track to follow in those footsteps.
His Affinities were undeniable: Shadow, Lightning, and Space. These three forces, each with their own immense potential, flowed through him—Shadow, inherited from his father Lucifer, who was a master of shadows and stealth; Lightning, inherited from his mother Lilith, a mage with the power to command storms and space itself; and Space, an affinity that was both rare and volatile, one that Azriel knew was tied to his mother's unique abilities.
It was these affinities that marked him as a child of exceptional promise, as someone whose power would one day rival the very legends that filled the pages of history.
However, there was more. Hidden beneath the surface, Azriel's locked affinities—two additional powers that remained sealed for now—were still a mystery. They had yet to reveal themselves to him, their nature and potential unknown. What were these affinities? And why were they locked away from his sight? Azriel couldn't say, but something within him whispered that these hidden forces would one day come to shape his future in ways that no one, not even the headmaster of the Academy of Mystara, could predict.
Despite his early achievements—his E Rank, a solid foundation for someone so young—Azriel knew he was just beginning to tap into his true potential. Most children only awakened their mana at the age of five, but he had already awakened at four, and his power was growing every day. His father's influence, his mother's legacy, and the uncharted forces within him all promised a future where Azriel would exceed expectations.
For now, he would focus on what was in front of him—the endless books before him in the family library. Magic theory, swordsmanship manual, and essays on the nature of the Voidus bloodline filled the shelves around him. Every book, every lesson, every scroll was a step toward mastering his abilities. With each page he turned, Azriel felt himself inching closer to a future where his powers—both known and unknown—would come together in unimaginable ways.
In time, he would awaken all his affinities, and when he did, the world would know the name Azriel Voidus. The path was long, the future uncertain, but the potential inside him was limitless. Whether he would rival the headmaster of Mystara or carve his own legendary legacy, only time would.
And then there were his eyes.
Even at such a young age, Azriel's eyes had always been... different. It wasn't just that his vision was sharper than most children's—it was as though his gaze could sift through layers of reality, picking up on things others might miss entirely. And while he didn't fully understand the extent of his abilities, Azriel could tell that what he saw often wasn't what people intended to show.
When he looked at someone, there was a strange feeling—a sense that something more was hidden beneath the surface. He didn't know how to explain it, but he could tell when someone was lying. Their words might sound convincing, but Azriel's eyes could catch the smallest flicker in their expression, the slight hesitation in their voice, the shift in their posture. It wasn't as though he could read their thoughts, but the subtle clues were impossible for him to ignore.
It was this sensitivity that often unsettled him. He could feel the truth—or the lie—written in a person's gaze, their movements, even their energy. It was as if their essence revealed itself to him in flashes. He couldn't quite grasp the full meaning of what he saw, but he knew enough to sense when something wasn't quite right.
But that was all he could manage for now. Even though the skill was locked, Azriel could tell it was more than just heightened perception. He could pick up on things, yes, but it felt incomplete—like a melody with missing notes. There were times when the feeling of knowing would wash over him, when he'd glance at someone and have the odd sensation that something in them was laid bare for just a brief moment—like seeing the outline of a shadow that was always just out of reach. But the truth behind that outline was still obscured.
The part that unsettled Azriel the most was the constant hum of possibility that buzzed in the back of his mind. He knew that his eyes, if unlocked fully, could do more than simply sense lies or truths—they might strip the world down to its rawest form, laying bare every hidden detail, every nuance, every piece of information that no one else could access. And that thought both fascinated and terrified him.
What would it be like to see everything in a single glance? What if, by unlocking the full power of his eyes, he could never again look at a person without seeing the full truth of them—every fear, every weakness, every secret they held?
The skill was still 90% locked, but that tiny sliver of power Azriel had access to already felt dangerous. It was like peeking through a veil, catching fleeting glimpses of the world's hidden layers, and wondering what would happen if that veil were torn away entirely.
He could manage the small bursts of insight for now—knowing when someone was lying, sensing the unspoken truths around him—but he feared what might happen if he unlocked it completely. What if it overwhelmed him? What if the flood of information was too much for him to handle?
For now, Azriel chose to keep his distance from fully unlocking it. He could sense the potential within him, feel it pulling at the edges of his awareness. But he wasn't ready to face it. Not yet.
KNOCK
Azriel's thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a soft knock at the door, followed by its slow, measured creak as it opened to reveal Magnus, the family butler. His attire was immaculate, as always—elegant and refined, a uniform tailored to perfection. The monocle perched delicately on his right eye added a touch of distinguished charm, though it was his expression that caught Azriel's attention. The usual stoic calm was replaced by a subtle softness, as he regarded Azriel with a warmth that could only be described as fond.
"Young Master," Magnus's voice was smooth, like silk, his words gentle but imbued with the respect he held for the young heir. "It is time to prepare for the ball this evening. Or have you, perhaps, forgotten what this night entails?"
Azriel let out a soft chuckle, a wisp of amusement dancing in his eyes as he leaned back slightly, allowing himself a moment of mirth in the midst of the evening's impending formality.
"How could I forget?" he replied, his tone laced with a touch of sarcasm. "The entire household has been abuzz with chatter about it. My so-called reveal to the other noble families, and of course, the king and his entourage." He allowed himself a brief smile, though it was more wry than joyful. "Hardly nerve-wracking, wouldn't you agree, Uncle?"
The words hung in the air, lighthearted on the surface, but beneath them was a flicker of the weight that such an event carried for Azriel. The ball was not just a social gathering; it was a moment of introduction, a turning point in his life where eyes—both curious and calculating—would be cast upon him. But for now, he wore the mask of indifference, hiding the deeper currents beneath.
Later that evening...
The Voidus Estate was alive with activity, the main hall brimming with figures draped in opulent gowns and tailored suits. The atmosphere was one of refinement and power, an air of quiet anticipation settling over the gathered crowd. Nobles, influential figures, and other high-ranking individuals had come in droves, drawn not only by the sheer prestige of the Voidus name but also by the unspoken promise of something far greater. Tonight was not merely a social affair—it was a spectacle.
In hushed tones, conversations rippled through the crowd, murmurs that hinted at the true purpose of this gathering. Whispers of curiosity and speculation filled the air: Was this the night they would see a new monster born from the Voidus bloodline? Would the heir reveal himself as something even more formidable than his ancestors, a force unlike any other? The Voidus family had long been known for producing figures of great power—dark, elusive, and dangerous. And now, the next generation was about to step into the light.
The murmurs and hushed conversations that filled the grand hall were abruptly silenced as a voice rang out, clear and commanding, cutting through the sea of whispers.
"Welcoming His Majesty King Robert and Queen Priscella, Prince Jacob and Princess Gwendolyn."
The doors at the far end of the hall swung open with a soft creak, and the attention of every noble, every guest, was immediately drawn to the regal figures entering. The room seemed to hold its breath as the royal family made their entrance.
At the forefront was King Robert, draped in the finest royal attire—a robe of deep blue and gold that shimmered with every step he took. His blonde hair was neatly combed, and his piercing blue eyes glinted with the authority of a ruler who had long held the reins of the kingdom. His presence alone was enough to command respect and admiration from those gathered in the hall.
By his side, Queen Priscella was a vision of elegance. Her dress, a stunning shade of crimson, cascaded elegantly to the floor, contrasting beautifully with her raven-black hair and the serene, yet striking, blue eyes that seemed to capture the room's attention. Her grace was unmatched, and the whispers that followed her were filled with admiration, for she was known as much for her sharp intellect as for her beauty.
Following closely were their children—Prince Jacob and Princess Gwendolyn.
As the royal family settled into place, the attention of the entire room shifted once more. The sound of the King, Queen, Prince, and Princess entering had finally subsided, their regal presence commanding respect and admiration. But now, all eyes turned towards the staircase, where the Voidus family stood in quiet majesty.
At the head of the steps, Lucifer, Kinsley, and Lilith stood like statues, their silent strength a stark contrast to the commotion below. But it was not them who drew the gaze of every noble in the room. It was the figure standing before them, just four years old, draped in elegant attire—Azriel Voidus.
The child appeared almost ethereal, his delicate features seeming as if they were sculpted by the gods themselves. His pitch-black hair framed his face like a cloak of night, and his skin, pale as marble, only served to highlight the sharpness of his features. But it was his eyes—those otherworldly, radiant blue eyes—that captivated everyone. They glowed with an intensity that seemed to transcend the mortal realm, holding a depth and power that felt both mesmerizing and unsettling.
Azriel's gaze swept over the crowd, the sea of noble faces blurring beneath the weight of his glowing eyes. He paused briefly, locking eyes with the King and Queen. With a subtle dip of his head, he bowed to them, the motion graceful, yet filled with the quiet confidence of one already aware of his place in the world. His attention shifted then to Prince Jacob and Princess Gwendolyn. Another bow, more formal this time, but no less genuine, as Azriel acknowledged them with the respect due to royalty.
The room held its breath.
The King, Robert, smiled softly at the child before his gaze drifted toward Kinsley. Their eyes locked, a silent exchange of thoughts passing between them—words unspoken but understood. The weight of that look spoke volumes, as if both men knew that tonight was the beginning of something far greater than anyone could predict.
Queen Priscella, her smile serene and warm, shifted her gaze from Azriel to her husband, her lips curving ever so slightly. She, too, understood the significance of this moment. It was clear that this child—this Azriel Voidus—was not just an heir; he was something else entirely.
Prince Jacob, eight years old, tall for his age and already possessing the regal bearing of a future king, stood beside his sister. His hair, a striking blend of black and blue, matched his piercing blue eyes that were calm, calculating, and intelligent beyond his years. His gaze lingered on Azriel, a spark of intrigue flickering in his eyes. Though still young, Jacob had already learned to trust his instincts, and they told him that Azriel should not be underestimated. There was a sense that this boy, despite his youth, possessed a darkness within him—a force that would one day shape the kingdom. Jacob's thoughts, sharp as they were, warned him not to cross Azriel, for it seemed that even a passing thought of opposition might stir something far darker than he could ever imagine.
Princess Gwendolyn, five years old, stood close beside her brother, her blonde hair cascading like spun gold, her blue eyes soft but unerringly perceptive. Though younger than her brother, there was a quiet strength about her—an unspoken grace. She watched Azriel with wide, curious eyes, taking in his presence with an expression of quiet fascination. There was no mistaking the fact that Azriel was handsome—almost unnervingly so for a boy of his age—but beyond that, there was something about him, something captivating that seemed to resonate with her. Azriel Voidus—though she was just a child—left an impression on her that would linger, perhaps forever.
Azriel, still standing at the top of the staircase, felt the weight of every gaze upon him. He was accustomed to it by now, the scrutiny, the expectations—but tonight, it felt different. This was not just an introduction; this was the beginning of his future.
Turning his gaze back to the room, Azriel spoke, his voice cutting through the stillness of the moment with all the authority of someone far older than his years. His words were clear, confident, and filled with the weight of destiny:
"Let the ball begin."
The room seemed to exhale, the tension lifting ever so slightly, though it was quickly replaced by the hum of anticipation. The nobles, their curiosity now piqued, began to move toward the center of the hall, but not without keeping their eyes trained on Azriel.
Lucifer took Azriel by the arms, guiding him through the room with a steady hand. The Voidus Estate was alive with the presence of high-ranking nobles, powerful families, and influential figures from every corner of the kingdom. The ballroom buzzed with conversation, laughter, and the clinking of wine glasses, but in the midst of it all, Azriel remained calm, his otherworldly blue eyes scanning the crowd, absorbing everything around him.
Lucifer's voice was low, barely audible above the murmurs of the assembly, but it carried the weight of years of experience. "You need to understand who's here tonight, Azriel," he said, his tone both patient and authoritative. "The families and factions gathered in this room hold power—real power. They all protect the Yurin Kingdom, each in their own way."
Azriel nodded, his young mind already processing the information, his sharp gaze taking in the faces around him.
Lucifer continued, guiding his son through the crowd, introducing him to various nobles and close family friends, each one more imposing than the last. "This," he said, gesturing to a tall man with a wolfish grin and piercing eyes, "is Jorm Fenrir, the head of the Fenrir Family. They're the Beast Masters, known for their ability to control and tame the most fearsome creatures in the land. Their beasts are as deadly as they are loyal. You will hear whispers about their power, but know this—they're a family that values strength above all else."
Azriel's eyes briefly met those of Jorm, a slight, silent acknowledgment passing between them. The Beast Master gave a nod, his expression unreadable but not unfriendly.
Lucifer led Azriel further into the hall, pointing out the next figure. "That is Vernon Axesprinter, head of the Axesprinter Family. The Berserkers—they're a family of warriors known for their brute strength and unrelenting rage in battle. Their warriors are some of the fiercest in the kingdom. If there's ever a fight to be had, you'll find an Axesprinter on the frontlines, always."
The tall man with a scar running down the side of his face raised his glass in a half-toast as they passed, his dark eyes gleaming with ferocity.
"Strongvale Family, over there," Lucifer said, motioning toward a group of tall, broad-shouldered men and women laughing heartily around a table. "The Swordsmen—masters of blade and technique. They value precision over power, and their swordsmen are unmatched in their craft. If there's a duel, you'll find them to be the ones to watch."
Azriel glanced at the group of swordsmen, noting their graceful movements and the way they carried their weapons as though they were extensions of themselves. The Strongvale Family was a prestigious name, and it was no surprise that they were highly respected.
"Next," Lucifer said, guiding Azriel toward a woman standing near a group of nobles, her presence almost ethereal. She had long silver hair that shimmered under the candlelight, and her piercing violet eyes held an intensity that felt like they could peer into the very fabric of reality itself.
"That is Rhea Spiritreaver, a unique individual and a master of spirit magic," Lucifer continued, his voice soft with a tone of reverence.
"Rhea is not part of any family. She is a singular entity, capable of communing with the spirits of the dead. Her abilities allow her to tap into the realm of the beyond, drawing on the ancient wisdom and power of those who have passed. It is said that she can predict future events, offer counsel on matters of life and death, and call upon spirits for guidance when the need is dire."
Azriel felt an inexplicable shiver run down his spine. He had heard of people who could commune with spirits, but Rhea's name carried a weight of mystery that made her seem like something more than just a master of magic. She was a living legend, an oracle in her own right.
Lucifer continued, his voice steady. "Rhea has served as an advisor to royalty for decades. The royal family holds her prophecies and guidance in the highest regard, especially in times of turmoil. Her insights have shaped the kingdom's destiny more than once."
As they approached, Rhea turned her head toward them, her violet eyes narrowing slightly as if she were focusing on something unseen. A knowing smile curved her lips, one that seemed to come from a place beyond the present moment.
"Lord Lucifer," Rhea greeted them with a voice that was both soft and commanding, as though each word carried weight far beyond her appearance. "And this must be young Azriel. The heir to the Voidus bloodline, a child of shadows and night."
Azriel stood straight, offering a respectful nod in return. He had heard much of Rhea, but this was the first time he'd met her in person, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of unease in her presence. There was something about her—something that made it feel like she could see right through him.
Rhea's gaze lingered on Azriel for a moment longer than necessary, her smile deepening. "The spirits have whispered of you, young one," she said, her voice like silk, yet it carried an unmistakable edge. "You are marked for greatness, though the path ahead is uncertain. Be cautious, for the forces that surround you are not all visible to the eye."
Azriel didn't respond immediately. There was a depth to her words, a gravity that settled uneasily in his chest. His father had always warned him about the weight of prophecy, how it could be both a gift and a curse.
Lucifer placed a gentle hand on Azriel's shoulder, guiding him forward. "Thank you for your time, Rhea," he said, his tone polite but firm, a clear signal that they had other guests to attend to. "We must continue."
Rhea inclined her head slightly, her eyes never leaving Azriel's. "Of course, Lord Lucifer. Young Azriel... remember, the spirits are always watching. And they are never wrong."
With that, Rhea turned her attention back to the other guests, leaving Azriel with a lingering sense of foreboding. He had heard that Rhea was capable of great things, but now, standing in her presence, he felt it more deeply than ever. Her words echoed in his mind, and for the first time, Azriel wondered if he might be caught in a web of fate much larger than he could comprehend.
"And over here," Lucifer continued, guiding Azriel toward another elegant couple standing beside a table piled high with scrolls and arcane objects, "are the Starox Family. Masters of Elemental Mana, their magic is rooted in the fundamental forces of nature—earth, fire, water, air. They are often sought after for their power to control the elements, and their influence is felt across the kingdom."
The pair exchanged warm pleasantries with Azriel, the male head of the Starox family giving the boy a thoughtful look, as if assessing the child's potential. Azriel offered a polite nod but did not say much.
Lucifer paused as they reached the center of the room, where the guild association and the royal military representatives had gathered. "You'll find," Lucifer said, his voice low and more serious now, "that these two factions hold just as much, if not more, power than the families. The guild association consists of powerful mercenaries, assassins, and adventurers—individuals who do not belong to noble houses but whose strength and skills are unparalleled. The royal military is the backbone of the kingdom's defense, led by General Arden, who commands the largest standing army in the region."
Azriel turned his attention to the guild representatives, some of whom wore strange, almost otherworldly attire. Others looked like seasoned warriors, their eyes sharp and watchful. Then, his gaze shifted to the royal military contingent, who stood stoically nearby, their uniforms impeccable, their discipline evident. He could almost feel the raw power radiating from them.
"These factions," Lucifer continued, his voice hardening slightly, "are necessary to maintain balance. They are our protectors, but never forget—the Voidus family is at the heart of it all. We do not rely on others for our power. We make our own."
Azriel nodded quietly, taking in his father's words, though his mind was already far beyond the surface level of understanding. He had been taught to know the value of alliances, but he also understood that true power came from within—from family, from bloodline, from something deeper.
As the evening wore on, the room continued to buzz with conversation, but there was an undeniable weight in the air as the nobles and factions of the kingdom regarded Azriel with a mix of curiosity, caution, and respect.