It was a bright, sunny day, and the air was filled with the calming aromas of flowers blooming in the backyard garden of the Drakon estate.
For most, such a warm, tranquil day would be perfect for peace and luxury. But for Abaddon, it was a day of judgment.
"Hold your head high, boy. A Drakon does not cower, even in failure."
A tall, majestic man with long black dreadlocks strode through the marble halls of the fortress. Behind him followed a young boy of similar noble status.
The boy was Abaddon. Upon hearing his father's words, his stomach tightened with panic. Failure was a concept Abaddon had become intimately familiar with in his fourteen years of life.
He walked a step behind his father, Lord Kaedryn Drakon, a man whose very presence seemed to dominate any space he entered.
Kaedryn wore ceremonial armor, the polished steel reflecting the light like a second sun. Servants scurried about, their pace quickening at the sight of him, preparing for the awakening ceremony.
Kaedryn needed neither words nor gestures; his presence alone commanded respect.
On the opposite side of the marble walkway, a stunning woman approached.
Lady Elyssia, adorned in emerald-green robes that shimmered in the sunlight, looked almost ethereal. Her beauty turned heads, capturing the attention of every guest in the vicinity.
When they met up, lady Elyssia addressed her husband in a worried tone.
"Kaedryn, perhaps we should reconsider—"
Without a word back, Kaedryn silenced her with a sharp, unwavering look.
"There is nothing to reconsider. The boy must face the test. It is his birthright, whether he wishes it or not."
Abaddon swallowed hard as he overheard their conversation. His nerves were at an all-time high.
Several moments later, they reached the memorial grounds, a sprawling courtyard surrounded by towering statues of past Drakon ancestors.
As Abaddon walked through the memorial grounds, his gaze lingered on the statues. Each figure immortalized in marble had lived and died for the honor of House Drakon, the noble dragon slayers. Their deeds were carved into stone, etched into history for future generations to revere.
Even his father and elder siblings had statues among these hallowed grounds.
They had all left a legacy.
All except him.
Lost in thought, Abaddon barely noticed when they arrived at the proving grounds. The murmurs of the gathered crowd snapped him back to reality.
The courtyard buzzed with anticipation. Nobles from across the kingdom had assembled to witness the test. For many participants, a strong performance might garner offers from prestigious factions and guilds.
The atmosphere was vibrant, a mix of bright colors and animated chatter. Yet, Abaddon felt none of the cheer. His demeanor was a stark contrast to the energy around him.
Although undeniably handsome—some might even call him beautiful, thanks to his parents' striking genes—Abaddon stood out for all the wrong reasons. In terms of appearance, he surpassed his three siblings.
But in terms of the Drakon bloodline, he had inherited nothing. Unlike his gifted siblings, he lacked the ability to wield the ancestral powers of their house.
The judgmental stares of the crowd weighed heavily on him. This wasn't the first time he had faced their scrutiny.
"That's the youngest Drakon boy, isn't it?"
"Poor thing, born with nothing. A sin in a family like theirs."
"Do you think he'll even survive the test?"
The whispers cut deep, no matter how hard Abaddon tried to block them out. But they weren't wrong.
He followed the other participants as his parents took their seats among the nobles.
Ahead of them loomed a massive stone platform inscribed with glowing ancient runes. At its center stood a towering monument of metal and stone, its heart a radiant orb pulsing with magic.
The sight of the monument made Abaddon's breathing grow shallow. Glancing up at the nobles' seats, he met his father's piercing gaze.
The look was clear: This is your moment, Abaddon. Step forward and show them what you are made of.
His mother's warm smile offered a different message: We believe in you.
Guilt flickered through him as he looked away, but somehow, her smile gave him a faint sense of confidence.
'Maybe I'm overthinking this.'
He told himself.
'Maybe there's a chance… a slim chance that I'll awaken. If I do, Father will finally be proud of me.'
This fragile hope was shattered when someone intentionally stepped on his foot. Startled, Abaddon turned to see his three siblings standing before him.
In most families, such a reunion might bring comfort, especially on a day like this. But for Abaddon, his siblings were his worst tormentors.
The eldest, a prodigy of the Drakon bloodline, had wielded the essence of life—mantra—at just six years old. The others weren't far behind, showing signs of their powers years ago. Unlike Abaddon, their chances of awakening were practically guaranteed.
Judging by their expressions, they weren't here to offer support.
Disgust twisted their faces, and Abaddon braced himself for whatever cruelty they had planned.
Fortunately, their mockery was cut short when the Oracle's voice rang out, commanding the attention of all participants and guests
The only reason his siblings would appear before him with such disgusted looks on their
The Oracle began the introductions and, shortly after, started calling the noble children forward one by one.
"Prince Kain Van Alaric, from the Fifth House of Duke Alaric, has awakened as a Ranker with a blue soul-ore, he is fourty-five percent compatible with mantra energy."
The Oracle's voice echoed across the proving grounds.
Kain stepped off the platform with pride, his head held high.
"Next!"
One of Abaddon's siblings stepped forward—a strikingly beautiful girl with her mother's elegant features. She walked with poise toward the monument and placed her hand lightly on the glowing orb at its center.
With a composed expression, she took a slow, deliberate breath, releasing a brilliant golden aura. The orb responded instantly, radiating an intense blue light that drew murmurs of awe from the crowd.
The Oracle stepped forward with a smile.
"It seems we have a prodigy—a green soul-ore. Impressive."
She turned to Lord Kaedryn and bowed respectfully.
"Congratulations, my lord. Your daughter has an eighty percent compatibility with mantra energy. She is destined to become a powerful mage."
The crowd erupted into cheers as nobles showered the Drakon family with congratulations for producing yet another prodigy.
Belladon Von Drakon, Abaddon's sister, descended the platform, her face adorned with a mocking smirk as she glanced his way. But before he could process her silent taunt, the Oracle called for the next participant.
This time, a young man with piercing blue eyes and short blonde hair stepped forward. It was Arthur, Abaddon's childhood friend and the only person who had never abandoned him.
Arthur approached the orb with unshakable confidence. The moment his hand touched its surface, the entire proving grounds were engulfed in a blinding light.
Gasps filled the air as many nobles rose from their seats in shock. Even the Oracle shielded her eyes against the radiance.
"One hundred percent compatibility with mantra energy... A golden soul-ore! Arthur Pen Dragon has awakened as a legendary Ranker!" she announced.
The crowd erupted into chaos. A golden soul-ore was an anomaly of the highest order, so rare that only one other individual in the world possessed such a rank—Lord Kaedryn, the head of the Drakon family himself.
Within moments, guild leaders and faction representatives began whispering amongst themselves, eager to recruit Arthur on the spot. But the Oracle raised her hand to silence them, reminding everyone that the ceremony was not yet complete.
Scanning her list, she paused briefly, her gaze settling on the next name.
"Abaddon Von Drakon, youngest son of Kaedryn and Elyssia, present yourself for the Rite of Ascension."
Abaddon stood frozen, his confidence completely shattered in the wake of Arthur's unprecedented achievement. To follow a legendary Ranker? How could his luck be so cruel?
All eyes turned toward him—nobles, peers, guests, and, most importantly, his father. Their expressions were a mix of curiosity and expectation.
Taking a shaky breath, Abaddon forced himself to step onto the platform. The crowd fell silent as the tension in the atmosphere grew with every breath.
His trembling hand reached for the orb, though it felt impossibly far away despite being within arm's length.
Noticing his hesitation, the Oracle gave him a subtle nudge forward.
Finally, Abaddon placed his hand on the orb and all his might, finding every ounce of strength in himself, he channeled energy into the orb.