The silence of the library clung to him like a shroud, broken only by the faint flickering of the lanterns and the occasional creak of the ancient wooden shelves. He stood motionless in the dimly lit chamber, his breath shallow, his fingers unconsciously tracing the cold surface of the artifact. It was unlike anything he had ever seen—engraved with intricate patterns, pulsating with an eerie, almost living glow.
But nothing happened.
He waited, half-expecting some grand revelation, some whisper of forgotten knowledge to seep into his mind. Yet, the artifact remained still, and the longer he stood there, the more foolish he felt.
Perhaps it had been his imagination. Perhaps his desperation had conjured something out of nothing.
With a weary sigh, he placed the object back where he found it. But as he stepped away, a sudden wave of dizziness crashed over him. His vision blurred, his balance wavered, and a strange sensation coiled around his chest—like invisible tendrils sinking into his very being.
Then, as quickly as it came, it vanished.
He gasped, steadying himself against the bookshelf. His heart pounded wildly, but nothing seemed out of place. The artifact still rested where he left it, unmoving.
Had he imagined it?
Something felt different, but he couldn't explain what. It was as if something had latched onto him, slipping beneath his skin, beyond his reach. But no matter how much he focused, he found nothing. No visible change, no sign of anything unnatural.
Frustration gnawed at him.
He clenched his fists. He had thought—no, hoped—that this place held answers. That somewhere in these forgotten shelves lay the key to why he was different. Why he was hated. Why he was… powerless.
But all he had found was another dead end.
Exhaling sharply, he turned and left, the weight of disappointment settling heavily on his shoulders.
The days passed in a blur.
The air in the estate grew tense with anticipation. Conversations in the halls were laced with excitement, whispered speculations drifting from every corner. The Initial Trial was approaching—the first true test for those of noble lineage.
At the age of fourteen or fifteen, every individual underwent an awakening of their innate trait—a precursor to their main power, a foundation upon which their future strength would be built.
It was different for everyone.
A knight might awaken an ability that enhanced their physical prowess, while a mage might gain an affinity for a particular element. Others—metahumans, scholars, artificers—would manifest abilities suited to their respective paths.
This was a pivotal moment. A moment that determined whether one was destined for greatness… or mediocrity.
And everyone was certain where he stood.
"Do you think he'll awaken anything?"
"Doubtful. If he had even a shred of potential, it would have shown by now."
"Even if he does awaken something, it'll be pathetic."
They spoke as if he weren't even there, as if his existence was a mere inconvenience.
He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to ignore them. He had long since grown numb to their words, but this time, the bitterness stung deeper. Not because of their scorn—he was used to that—but because he wasn't sure if they were wrong.
He had nothing. No strength, no talent, no proof that he even belonged in this family. And no matter how much he tried, no matter how much he endured, he remained at the bottom, destined to be forgotten.
But deep within, a single thought burned.
A question that refused to leave his mind.
What if they were wrong?
He had spent his life being told he was worthless. That his existence held no value. But what if… what if he had simply been looking at things the wrong way?
He had never been given a path to follow. Never had guidance, resources, or even acknowledgment.
Maybe that was why he had to carve his own.
And maybe—just maybe—what everyone saw as his weakness… could be his greatest strength.
As the day of the Initial Trial loomed closer, he found himself standing alone in the dark, staring at his reflection in the glass.
For the first time in his life, he wasn't just waiting for fate to decide his worth.
This time, he would fight for it.
Even if the world refused to see him.
Even if he had to stand against it alone.