I was never supposed to exist.
At least, not in this world.
But here I was—an orphan with no past, no family, and, according to every magic test ever conducted, no affinity for magic.
A shame, really.
If they had been able to detect my magic, perhaps my so-called parents would have hesitated before tossing me away like garbage.
But it was better this way.
I had no interest in being part of that rotten noble family.
Instead, I had something far more valuable.
Freedom.
Life in the Orphanage
The orphanage was nothing special—just an old stone building near the outskirts of the capital. The wooden floor creaked under every step, the walls were cracked, and the roof leaked when it rained. The beds were thin, the food was bland, and there were always too many mouths to feed.
But it was home.
Sister Emilia, the nun who ran the place, was strict but kind. She didn't tolerate troublemakers, but she never let any of us go hungry. Even in the coldest winters, she made sure we had blankets.
The other orphans were like me—children who had been abandoned or left behind. Some had parents who died in war. Others had been thrown away because of their low magic potential.
And then there was me.
No name. No magic. Just Arc.
At least, that was what they thought.
Discovering My Magic
I first realized I could use Creation Magic when I was four.
At the time, I didn't even know what I was doing.
I had been sitting alone in the orphanage's dusty library, flipping through old, tattered books that no one else cared about. Most of them were dull history texts or religious scriptures, but there was one that caught my attention.
A book about magic.
More specifically, a book about the God of Creation.
According to legend, the God of Creation had shaped the world with nothing but his will. He had crafted mountains, rivers, and life itself—all without using elemental magic.
But one day, he vanished.
No one knew why.
Even now, every nation still worshiped him, hoping for his return.
But what if he never truly left?
What if his power still existed—hidden, waiting to be found?
I wasn't sure why, but something inside me whispered that the story wasn't just a myth.
And then, without thinking, I reached out.
I didn't chant. I didn't focus on mana like normal mages did.
I just willed it.
And something happened.
A tiny flame flickered into existence at the tip of my finger. It wasn't fire magic. It wasn't even an illusion.
It was real.
A flame born not from mana, but from my will alone.
The moment I realized that, I understood something crucial.
I wasn't like the other mages in this world.
My power wasn't bound by the elements.
I had Creation Magic.
And I was the only one who did.
Training in Secret
From that day on, I began experimenting.
I had no mentor, no guidance—just my own instincts and whatever scraps of knowledge I could find in books.
But that was enough.
Magic in this world required chanting and complex incantations. The stronger the spell, the longer the chant. Some high-tier magic required minutes, even hours, of preparation.
But I didn't need any of that.
Wordless casting.
I simply imagined something, and it became reality.
At first, I started small.
A flicker of fire. A pebble formed from nothing. A tiny gust of wind.
The first rule I discovered was that the more detailed the creation, the harder it was.
Summoning a ball of water? Easy.
Creating a full cup of fresh tea, complete with the right taste and temperature? That took days of practice.
The second rule? Nothing came from nothing.
If I wanted to create something complex, I needed an understanding of how it worked. If I wanted to make a weapon, I had to know its shape, weight, and structure. If I wanted to make food, I had to know the taste, smell, and ingredients.
And the third rule… I had to keep it a secret.
If anyone discovered my magic, I had no doubt that I'd become a target.
There were too many people—mages, kings, even gods—who would do anything to control a power like mine.
So, I hid it.
I let the world believe I was just another nameless orphan with no future.
I pretended to struggle with sword training when the other kids sparred. I let them laugh when I failed mock magic tests on purpose.
I played the role of the powerless orphan.
But at the dead of night, when no one was watching, I practiced.
I learned.
I created.
And slowly, I became stronger.
A Path to the Future
By the time I turned fifteen, I had already mastered the fundamentals of my magic.
I could create weapons, tools, even simple food. I still had limits—things that were too complex, too large, or required too much detail were difficult. But I was improving.
The problem was… I had no future.
No noble family meant no formal education. No magic affinity meant no easy way to become an adventurer. Even if I had power, I had no way to prove it.
But then, fate intervened.
One day, a royal messenger arrived at the orphanage with an announcement.
The Royal Academy of Magic was offering scholarships to talented young students—orphans included. Anyone who passed the entrance exam would be given full tuition, along with food and housing.
For most kids, it was a dream come true.
For me?
It was an opportunity.
I had avoided the world's main story for fifteen years. I had stayed in the shadows, living as an unknown extra in my own novel.
But now, I was about to step onto the grand stage.
And at the entrance ceremony, I would meet him.
The so-called hero of this world.
The third prince of a fallen kingdom.
The protagonist of my book.