In front of the mirror sat a figure, admiring his own reflection. Tousled black hair framed his sharp features, and his crimson eyes gleamed like polished rubies against his pale skin.
Dressed in an intricate black outfit adorned with golden embroidery and crimson jewels, he exuded an air of refined nobility. Ornate accessories hung from his attire, enhancing his already striking presence.
Holding an amethyst flower between his fingers, he brought it to his nose, inhaling its delicate scent.
"Damn," Amon murmured, a smirk playing on his lips. "Today, all the ladies will be flattered by seeing me."
A sudden burst of laughter shattered the silence.
"Pfft! Hahaha! What a fool we have here! A kid who can't even use mana, trying to woo ladies?" The voice dripped with mockery. "Listen, brat, women only love strong partners."
Amon scoffed, unbothered. "Like you'd know."
The bird perched nearby twitched, feathers ruffling in irritation. It wanted to lunge at him, but the last time it had attacked, Amon had retaliated mercilessly. Ever since learning to use his will, he could touch the creature, and he took full advantage of that fact to keep it in check.
Ignoring its glare, Amon turned, his black-and-gold robes swaying elegantly with his movement. He strode toward the table, picking up a sleek mettalic watch and fastening it onto his left wrist. With a final glance at his reflection, he smirked again.
"Perfect."
"All preparations are ready."
A knock echoed through the room.
"Come in."
Nina stepped inside, bowing slightly. "Young Master, Milady, and young miss are waiting for you in the garden. The ships are ready."
Amon nodded. "Fine, let's go."
He reached for Perses, the dark blade covered in its rune etched sheath resting on the table. The moment he touched it, the sword dissolved into motes of light and was absorbed in a sleek metallic watch around his wrist.
"This artifact really is something," he murmured, admiring the watch his aunt has given.
"Status."
— [True Name]: __________
— [Name]: Amon von Oltheros
— [Rank]: F-
— [Affinities]: Space (Locked), Time (Locked), Destruction (Locked), Dream (Locked)
— [Mana]: Null
— [Will]: E+
— [Bonded Relics]:
•Perses — Grade: Common {Eternal}
His lips curled into a smirk, though his expression faltered slightly. Despite relentless training, his overall rank remained unchanged—a sore spot in his progress.
Still, he was ready for the Crown Heir's coming-of-age ceremony—and for the Harbingers.
*Let them come*. He glanced at his watch before stepping out.
---
The garden bustled with activity, the sky above filled with the shimmer of countless hovering spacecraft. The air hummed with mana from the ship's thrusters, casting flickering blue lights across the courtyard's polished marble. Servants and guards moved with practiced efficiency, securing last-minute preparations.
As Amon approached, his shadow twisted beneath him, swallowing him in darkness before he reappeared inside the spacecraft.
Waiting inside were Elara, Anastasia, and Seraphina.
"Why do you always make us wait?" Anastasia huffed, arms crossed.
Amon smirked. "Tsk. Look at this girl—impatient like a brat. "
"What did you just say?!" Anastasia's punched him in his head.
Seraphina chuckled, while Elara merely sighed, shaking her head.
Perses pirched atop Amon's shoulder also laughed.
The ship hummed to life, and in an instant, they were launched into the void.
Amon barely noticed the transition—his body had long adapted to mana deficiency due to his condition . But beside him, Anastasia gasped sharply, her breath turning ragged.
Her hands clutched at her chest as beads of sweat formed on her forehead. Amon could see the tension in her muscles, her body straining against an invisible weight. Her normally composed demeanor cracked, revealing the raw struggle beneath.
"Mom…?" Anastasia's voice was weak, strained.
Elara's expression darkened. "It's the mana depletion. She's not Ascended yet."
Amon exhaled through his nose. *This is what happens to those who haven't reached Ascended rank.* His thoughts were even, detached. *Without it, you can't circulate mana freely in space. Only by forming an independent internal cycle can one survive beyond a planet's atmosphere.*
Seraphina immediately placed her hand on Anastasia's back, channeling a steady stream of mana into her. Slowly, Anastasia's breathing steadied, though her face remained pale.
Amon watched in silence, his expression unreadable.
His gaze drifted to the massive planet shrinking behind them.
It was a titanic world, vast enough to hold thousands of suns from his previous life. Its atmosphere shimmered with protective barriers, glowing faintly under the cosmic light.
Perched on his shoulder, Perses spoke.
" Survival above all else—that's what matters."
*Indeed it is.*
---
Twelve hours later, the fleet arrived at its destination.
Beyond the ship's reinforced glass, a vast celestial expanse unfolded, revealing one of the Seven Primordial Worlds of the Human Domain. Encircled by luminous rings inscribed with ancient runes, the world pulsed with raw mana, a beacon of civilization and power.
Towering citadels drifted above the surface, their spires humming with contained divinity, while colossal mountain ranges gleamed with veins of crystallized essence. Rivers of liquid starlight wove through boundless forests, nourishing grand cities forged from celestial steel and infused with arcane energy.
This was one of Krion's five Primordial Worlds, a land where only the strong thrived, where history was carved in battle and blood. Yet, beyond Krion's dominion, two other such worlds stood under Oltheros , maintaining a fragile equilibrium.
The scene before them was breathtaking. Colossal warships hovered in perfect formations, their hulls gleaming with golden insignias. Energy shields flickered as thousands of smaller vessels maneuvered in intricate patterns, resembling a celestial armada.
Their ship weaved effortlessly through the fleet, escorted by an honor guard of sleek, black fighters.
As the docking bay opened, a group of figures clad in white robes awaited them, their weapons held in ceremonial formation.
Amon and his family stepped forward, met with deep bows from the gathered officials. The palace that loomed before them eclipsed even their own estate—a vast monolith of silver and gold, its towering spires stretching toward the void. Mana-fueled orbs floated above, illuminating the sprawling walkways with a soft, ethereal glow.
As they entered the grand hall, nobles and dignitaries filled the space, their embroidered robes glistening with intricate sigils of their respective houses.
Anastasia was quickly drawn into conversation—after all, she was to be the future matriarch of Oltheros.
Amon, however, found himself surrounded by young nobles, mere children no older than 13. Eager to flaunt their talents, they conjured elements at will—fire crackled, wind howled, golden light shimmered.
*Tch. No manners.* His gaze darkened. *It's like asking a cripple to shake hands.*
Before he could dwell on it further, trumpets blared, their deep echoes reverberating through the hall.
The air grew heavy with anticipation.
The Emperor had arrived.