The room smelled sterile, the sharp scent of antiseptic hanging in the air. The quiet hum of medical equipment filled the space, punctuated by the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor. The stark white walls and the neatly arranged medical tools left no doubt—it was an infirmary.
In the middle of the room, a boy and a girl sat together. From a distance, they looked like the perfect couple—two young lovers, bound by affection and devotion. The way she held his hand, the way she gently cared for him, made it seem as if nothing in the world mattered more to her than his well-being.
But reality was often cruel.
Ren sat on the infirmary bed, his body battered and bruised. Bandages were wrapped around his right hand, and a few scratches marred his face. Though his injuries didn't seem severe at first glance, he knew the truth—several of his bones were fractured. Each breath sent a sharp sting through his ribs, but he endured it.
Beside him, Lyra tended to him with practiced care. One of her hands held his, while the other gently wiped his forehead with a damp cloth. Her touch was soft, her expression unreadable. Ren could feel his heart beat just a little faster whenever she was this close. Even in his pain, he found himself smiling at her.
If anyone had walked in at that moment, they would have been touched by the tender scene.
But words could shatter even the most beautiful illusions.
"Ren, I won the duel. Our engagement is annulled," Lyra said coldly.
The warmth of the moment vanished instantly.
Ren's breath hitched. His face twisted, but this time, it wasn't because of his injuries.
For a moment, he just stared at her, as if trying to process her words. Then, he let out a quiet, bitter chuckle.
"...I see," he murmured.
Lyra didn't look away. Her gaze remained steady, unwavering, as if she had rehearsed this moment a thousand times.
"And I love someone else. So don't pester me anymore," she added sharply, her voice carrying an unmistakable finality.
Ren clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening around the bedsheet beneath him. He had been in love with Lyra for so long, and now, just like that, it was over.
She stood up, giving him one last indifferent glance before turning away.
Ren never said a word. He just watched as she walked out of his life.
The room felt emptier than ever.
---
Hours passed. Ren remained in the infirmary, staring at the ceiling, his mind numb.
Then, the door opened.
This time, it wasn't Lyra.
Elara stood beside his bed, arms folded, her expression unreadable.
"Ren, the elders and the family head have made their decision—you are no longer eligible to compete for the position of head," she said flatly.
Ren frowned. "What?"
Elara let out a sigh, her eyes filled with barely concealed contempt.
"Your reckless behavior has already ruined our family's reputation. You lost the duel. There are far more talented people than you at the academy and within our household. You should focus on recovering and stop thinking about things that are beyond your reach."
Her words cut deeper than any sword.
Ren just sat there, silent.
Elara let out a quiet snicker before turning on her heel and walking out.
The door shut behind her.
Ren was left alone.
Lying there, he clenched his fists so tightly that his nails pierced his skin, fresh blood trickling from his palms.
Hate.
That man… the one they all loved, the one who took everything from him.
HATE. HATE. HATE.
I will kill him.
His killing intent surged, thickening the air around him.
Yes… once he's gone—Lyra, Elara, everyone will come back to me.
Ren smirked darkly.
That man had taken everything.
My status.
My fiancée.
My sister.
My friends.
And now… even my family.
Would he take his parents next?
NO!
I won't let it happen.
His breathing became ragged, his vision darkening.
For the first time in his life, Ren truly wished for someone's death.
But he had no idea… this wouldn't be the last time.
As his thoughts spiraled deeper into darkness, the room itself seemed to dim around him.
---
Half a day had passed since Ren drank the wine Baldrie had given him.
Inside the smithy, Ren lay sprawled on the floor, his face twisted in pain as if tormented by a nightmare. His back was slick with cold sweat.
Baldrie, the old blacksmith, strode into the room, carrying something wrapped in cloth. However, upon seeing Ren's condition, he set it aside and walked up to him.
"Oi, brat. Wake up," he grumbled.
Ren didn't stir.
Baldrie frowned, then cracked his knuckles.
"Fine. Take this!"
With a smirk, he swung his foot and delivered a powerful kick to Ren's side.
BAM!
Ren jolted awake with a sharp gasp, his body flying a few feet before crashing onto the wooden floor.
"What the hell?!" he sputtered, clutching his ribs. He shot a glare at Baldrie, who stood over him, clearly pleased with himself.
"This ain't your house, brat. Have some manners. And here—this is for you," Baldrie said, tossing the cloth-wrapped object at him.
Ren caught it, still wincing. He unwrapped the cloth, revealing a long, sleek sword encased in a dark black sheath. His breath hitched.
Slowly, he unsheathed it.
A magnificent double-edged longsword gleamed under the dim light. Its blade was slightly curved, its edge razor-sharp. The golden hilt was adorned with intricate engravings, small gemstones embedded into the design.
But what caught Ren's attention most was the way it shone—as if the sword itself was alive.
Baldrie watched with pride. "This is one of my finest works."
Ren gave the blade a few test swings.
SWOOSH.
It was perfect. Smooth, balanced, deadly.
"This sword will grow with you," Baldrie continued. "For now, it's only a [Unique High-Tier] weapon. But as your strength increases, so will its power. If you master it, it may one day become legendary."
Ren nodded, unable to hide his awe.
"It suits your body well. And… it's a mana sword."
A flicker of surprise crossed Ren's face.
Mana swords were rare. Not all weapons could withstand the energy needed to channel mana through them. Yet this one could.
He looked at Baldrie. "What's its name?"
Baldrie smirked. "Its name is Noctis. The blade that shatters the night."
Ren ran a hand down the gleaming metal.
Noctis.
It was his first meeting with the weapon that would one day carve his name into history.
A sword that would shake the battlefield.
A sword that would glow like the stars.
A sword that would bring both salvation… and ruin.
"A blade that gleams in darkness, heralding power and fate alike."
And so, his journey began.