With time being the strongest force, it is only natural for civilizations to rise and fall, making way for new ones to take their place.
The same was true for the Atlantean race, once thriving beneath the ocean, renowned for their rare awakened abilities—gifts they believed were bestowed upon them by the sea.
Unlike humans, the Atlanteans possessed two blessings granted by nature—or, as they saw it, by the ocean itself.
Their race was not known for mana affinity, despite having an inherently high one due to their deep connection with water.
Instead, they prided themselves on their awakened abilities.
But what was once their greatest strength became a curse—the very reason for their downfall.
It all began with a shift in ideology.
While other races advanced by harnessing mana to innovate and master magic, the Atlanteans sought to differentiate themselves.
They became fixated on their awakened abilities, rejecting magic entirely.
A catastrophic mistake for any race.
The abilities they possessed were astronomically powerful, categorized based on elemental affinity.
If an Atlantean had a fire-type awakened ability, they could wield flames as fiercely as the strongest pyromancer—Something on which fire-type mages spent their entire lives striving to master.
This made it clear that awakened abilities granted immediate strength, unlike magic, which required years of study and refinement.
Over time, the Atlanteans began to look down on those who relied on magic, believing them unblessed by the ocean.
This arrogance led to the gradual decline of mana research and innovation within their civilization.
Then came the Great Cataclysmic War, ignited by humans.
Once the weakest race, humans lacked affinity, innate abilities, or blessings—except for one: adaptability.
Their relentless pursuit of knowledge, their insatiable greed to learn, led them to develop magic beyond anything seen before.
The battle between a hundred pyromancers and a dozen pyro-awakeneds revealed a brutal truth to the Atlanteans.
Despite their overwhelming individual strength, battle-oriented awakeneds were too few in number.
Humans, regardless of talent, compensated with sheer quantity and battle tactics.
The outcome was inevitable.
The Atlanteans were eradicated.
The few who remained were scattered, their bloodline diluted until their once-mighty race faded into history.
All because they refused to evolve—clinging to their strength instead of adapting to the world around them.
"What?!"
Both King Lutheran and Adrian were visibly shaken, frozen in place as they exchanged stunned glances, given that Dryn's words reminded them of the Atlantean race's history.
For a fleeting moment, the tension in their relationship was forgotten—replaced by pure shock at Dryn's revelation.
He had awakened his Atlantean ability.
Dryn's mother had been the last Atlantean heiress, the sole guardian of a dying bloodline.
Against all odds, she had preserved it, eventually marrying the King of Atlanta—a kingdom ruled by humans, despite its name.
Everyone had expected the last traces of Atlantean heritage to vanish with the next generation.
No one believed an awakened ability would manifest ever again.
And yet, here Dryn stood, defying fate itself.
"Wait… so your arrival here, dressed like that..." King Lutheran trailed off, his fingers tapping against the desk. Narrowing his gaze, he realized Dryn's appearance in his office like that was no coincidence. It had something to do with his ability.
"You awakened the ability to transfer origin seeds?" Adrian, who had remained silent until now, suddenly spoke. His sharp eyes flickered with realization as he recalled Dryn's earlier words—his declaration that he wanted to return the Angel origin Seed.
'!'
King Lutheran, upon hearing Adrian's words, immediately suspected that Dryn had most likely awakened the same ability as his mother.
His gaze shifted to Dryn for confirmation—only to be met with the sight of him casually biting into an apple.
Unbothered, Dryn tossed the half-eaten fruit aside before standing up and making his way toward the door.
"Move. Rudin is here."
Dryn knew exactly what to say to these people and handle their uselessly smart minds.
First, he needed to get to the door.
He was well aware that with Adrian present, Rudin would not enter.
Stepping forward, he firmly instructed Adrian to step aside—only to receive a cold look in return.
Adrian's gaze, however, soon shifted toward the door, where a short-haired maid stood hesitantly.
"..."
Adrian looked at Dryn's personal maid for a brief moment before averting his gaze, noticing the crimson flush near her eyes.
It was a familiar sight—one that reminded him of her usual irritating behavior.
'Ah… a lovebird,' Dryn mused, halting just in front of Rudin.
thump thump
She stood there clutching the papers and pen he had requested, her eyes glued to Adrian—not even acknowledging the fact that he was standing right next to her.
Her blushing ears, however, gave everything away.
Dryn smirked knowingly.
He was already aware of her feelings for his useless big brother.
It amused him how his brother completely disregarded her maidenly gestures of love, finding Rudin more annoying than anything.
Stretching his hand out, he snatched the papers from her grasp.
"Huh? Oh! Your Highness, forgive me!"
Rudin, flustered upon noticing Adrian as he entered the room, watched as he sharply turned his head away as usual.
A pang of disappointment struck her chest—only to be followed by the sudden tug of the papers in her hands.
She looked up to see Dryn's smirking face, his expression as if he had just read her mind.
"Yes, yes, I forgive you," Dryn muttered dismissively, taking a single sheet from the bundle. He placed the rest on the table before striding toward his father's desk.
Without hesitation, he swept aside the neatly arranged documents, the royal seal, and everything else cluttering the surface as if it were all worthless junk.
His actions earned him a narrowed glare from King Lutheran.
But Dryn didn't care.
He had far too much on his plate right now.
And just moments ago, he had added one more thing to his list—marrying Rudin to Adrian.
After all, she saved his life in a past life by giving him time to escape, so he would return that favor.
"Father, I have awakened two abilities."
Dryn lied without hesitation.
In reality, he only possessed one, but he had no qualms about weaving a story to make them believe what he wanted them to.
'!?'
"What? How?"
King Lutheran, clearly surprised, inquired further. But Dryn offered no answer. His father's gaze instead drifted toward the paper, watching as Dryn scribbled something onto it.
Adrian, too, side-eyed the paper, keeping a close watch on exactly what Dryn was writing—especially after claiming to have two awakened abilities.
"How would I know, Father?" Dryn shrugged, leaving them to speculate. Meanwhile, his mind worked to maneuver them toward his desired outcome.
His father was an easier nut to crack than Adrian.
That's why he had baited him with the promise of returning the Angel Origin Seed—to keep his overanalyzing brain too occupied to suspect the web of lies Dryn was about to weave.
"..."
King Lutheran remained silent, his eyes fixed on his younger son, who continued writing.
He then glanced toward the door, where Rudin lingered for a moment before closing it behind her as she left.
Taking his seat, the king exchanged a look with Adrian, who, understanding the silent cue, also took a seat beside Dryn—though his suspicion remained evident.
"What abilities did you awaken?"
Adrian's voice was steady, and his gaze was sharp. He found Dryn's behavior far too suspicious after he revealed his dual awakening, which was unheard of.
Even though Dryn was half his age, there was no denying the cunning and shrewdness he possessed.
The possibility of him lying—again—for some personal gain was too high to ignore.
'…And here I was thinking about giving you a family, you fucker.'
Dryn's pen halted mid-stroke. His gaze slowly lifted, his brow furrowing into a deep frown as he shot Adrian a glare.
'Haah… One can't even think about doing something good for others. So many ungrateful people around here.'
Shaking his head, Dryn glanced toward his father—who, thanks to Adrian's suspicion, now also seemed wary.
It was clear that neither of them had forgotten Dryn's past antics—how he had pulled similar stunts just to get his preferred swords or training equipment.
But this time, unbeknownst to them, Dryn was playing a much bigger game.