Five years had passed since the day of the opening ceremony.
And if there was a word to describe Natan Blazeforge's life at Sylverwyn Academy, it was hell.
Every hallway, every classroom, every glance reminded him that he didn't belong. Wherever he went, he was treated like trash—like an unwanted stain on the academy's proud name. Even the instructors barely acknowledged his presence, let alone offered help. Most were disgusted by him, especially the Headmaster, Archon Luminous, who seemed to take particular pleasure in his suffering.
Even nobles of lesser houses bullied him without restraint. Maids who were supposed to care for him barely gave him the minimum, knowing full well no one would defend him.
And through it all, Natan endured. He didn't resist. He couldn't. Because standing up meant death.
The cruelty worsened year after year. They would shoulder him into walls, trash his meals, trip him down stairs. He was bruised and bloodied more times than he could count.
It wasn't life anymore it was just surviving hell.
No child, no human, should have to endure what he did.
And yet… he endured.
He held on, barely, by the thinnest thread. But sometimes, death felt more appealing than another day in this wretched place.
In all of that time , only one person never harmed him—or precisely never bothered him.
Celestine Everglow.
From time to time, she would deliberately stand near him—not close enough to draw attention, but just near enough to halt the bullies. Everyone in the Academy knew her status, the golden-haired prodigy, the Imperial Princess. Her presence was a silent shield.
Natan understood what she was doing. He appreciated it. But he never dared approach her, never spoke to her. He refused to drag her down with him. Even that distant kindness was more than he deserved.
He was grateful.
Until one day when everything changed.
---
The Academy's neglected backyard was empty, save for a small group of boys—young nobles, around ten years old. And in the center of them stood Natan. He was lifeless.
His crimson-black hair fell over hollow red eyes. Not glowing. Not blazing. Just void. Just dead.
"You piece of shit," Craith Vance spat, stepping forward. He was taller now, lean and arrogant, brown hair slicked back, black eyes full of scorn. "Why don't you just die already? Do us all a favor. You've been here five years. Five years long. You being here degrades us"
Natan said nothing.
"Still mute, huh?"
THUD! THUD! THUD!
Fists slammed into Natan's ribs and shoulders. He didn't resist. He didn't cry out. Bruises formed, and he barely flinched.
Craith's lackeys joined in, laughing as they beat him.
THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD.THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD.
Fists, feet, elbows—Natan was a rag doll. His black hair was a mess, blood trailing down the corner of his lip. His red eyes stared at nothing.
He wasn't living.
He was just surviving.
And then—
"Oi. What are you doing in front of me?"
The voice cut through the noise like a blade. Calm, cold, and thunderous.
Everyone froze.
Celestine Everglow stood at the edge of the clearing, her golden hair flowing like sunlight. Her yellow eyes were piercing. Her uniform was adorned with golden embroidery of royalty. Beside her stood Clara, her ever-present maid.
"Shit—It's the princess!"
Craith's body stiffened. Everyone backed off, startled.
"This—"
"We're doing nothing!"
The words came from Natan.
Everyone turned, stunned. Natan had spoken. For the first time in five years, he had spoken aloud.
He didn't yell to protect himself. He yelled because he feared her presence here would only drag her into more trouble—trouble she didn't deserve. He didn't want that anymore.
"Yes, Princess! We were just fooling around!" Craith followed quickly, his voice trembling.
Celestine narrowed her gaze. She wasn't fooled.
But what made her frown wasn't their lies.
It was Natan.
She turned to him, watching as he slowly nodded, confirming their pathetic excuse. His dead eyes met hers.
Displeasure flickered across her face.
"I see…" she said flatly.
She stepped past them all. As she walked past Natan, she paused.
A whisper, low and cold, only for him:
"You really are a disappointment. I thought maybe you'd fight back by now—stand up for yourself, show even a hint of courage. But after all these years… you're still just the same."
Natan Froze.
The world around him shattered. It was as if reality had gone mute and black. He couldn't hear the bullies or feel the blood on his skin. He could only hear her.
"I tried to help you," she continued. "But maybe you were really never worth helping at all."
She walked away in disappointment, her footsteps heavy with disdain. Her golden hair swayed as she turned, posture cold and rigid. Her jaw was tight, lips pressed into a thin line. Clara followed behind without a word, sparing Natan a brief glance—pity mixed with quiet disapproval—before hurrying after her mistress.
The only person who had never hurt him.
The only one who had shown him any decency.
Now called him… a disappointment.
"Disappointment."
The same word from his father.
From his teachers.
From the headmaster.
And now, from her.
'You don't know anything about me!' he screamed inside. 'I tried! I tried to survive! If I fight, I'll die!'
But none of that mattered.
The word kept echoing.
"Disappointment." "Disappointment." "Disappointment." "Disappointment." "Disappointment."
"Fine,"
Natan muttered to himself.
His teeth clenched.
His fists tightened.
Blood dripped from his palms.
"Fine!!"
THUD!
Natan's fist slammed into Craith's face.
A sickening crunch echoed. Blood sprayed from Craith's nose as he was hurled backward.
Everyone stared.
"Wh–What the hell!?"
Before Craith could rise, Natan lunged.
THUD! THUD! THUD!
Fists crashed into Craith's face, over and over, blood splattering across the dirt.
[Stone Strike]
one of the lackeys casted as he saw Natan attacking Craith.
WHOOSH!
A stone shot from the ground and slammed into Natan's back. He stumbled—but he didn't fall.
He kept punching filled with killing intent.
THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD!
Another spell fired—a gust of wind that knocked him sideways. But he didn't care. He didn't move, He didn't flinch. His crimson eyes was burning with something feral, something unchained.
THUD!THUD!
His face was savage, his crimson eyes glowing with hatred and bloodlust.
"THIS BASTARD—"
Before the boy could finish, Natan hurled him to the ground and slammed his knee into his chest.
CRACK!
"AGGGHHH" Craith screamed in pain as he felt his bones cracking.
More joined the fray, throwing spells and fists. Natan fought like a beast uncaged—relentless, brutal, unflinching. He had no magic, only raw strength, but it was enough. he could handle it.
Craith staggered back, blood dripping from his nose, lips twisted in fury.
"You'll pay for this! You Fuck!!!!" he snarled.
[Burst Lance]
The spell flared to life in his palm, unstable and overloaded with mana. In his rage, he poured everything into it, far more than he could safely control.
And then—
BOOM!
The spell detonated mid-cast.
A blinding flash tore through the clearing. The explosion sent a shockwave rippling outward, hurling bodies to the ground—friend and foe alike. Dust and dirt surged into the sky. The academy windows trembled from the blast.
The loud blast echoed across the academy.
Celestine and Clara , just near, turned to the noise. Their faces paled.
They rushed back toward the source of the explosion, and others followed.
When they arrived—
Blood stained the grass.
Several boys lay on the ground, groaning or unconscious. Their faces were bruised, bloodied, bones possibly broken.
And in the center of the chaos—
Natan. Bloodied. Breathing hard. Kneeling beside Craith.
His hands shook. His face was blank. But his eyes—his crimson eyes—were unreadable.
Celestine stood frozen at the scene.
Natan looked up.
His eyes met with Celestine.
He didn't speak. He didn't explain.
He just stared, like a soul that had finally given up.
Celestine wanted to speak, to say something, anything.
But she couldn't.
---
Natan awoke in the infirmary.
Archon Luminous stood over him, a cruel smirk on his face.
"Oi, brat," he snapped. SLAP!
Natan's head twisted sideways. Blood dripped from his lip.
"What the hell were you thinking?! You hurt a duke's son! Do you know what you've done? Do you want to start a war with the Imperium?!"
Natan said nothing.
He was broken.
'I'm the villain now, huh? After five years of abuse, I finally hit back—and I'm the threat?'
Natan screamed in his thought. But nothing can be done anymore anyway so he just closed his eyes.
He no longer cared.
"You'll be punished. I've already informed Gareth. He's furious."
'No he's not,' Natan thought. 'He's probably thrilled.'
Time has passed.
A carriage brought Natan to the Blazeforge estate.
Natan arrived inside Gareth's office, an ornate room of dark stone, blood-red banners, and ancient tomes. He stood before his father and mother.
Gareth was tall and stern, with midnight-black hair and sharp red eyes. Madona was regal and quiet, with long black hair and striking golden eyes.
SLAP!
Natan hit the floor, blood pooling at his lip.
"You disgrace! First you shame us by being born worthless, and now you attack a duke's son of the Imperiume empire?!" Gareth roared.
Madona covered her mouth, silent tears falling.
The room went still.
"You are no longer a Blazeforge," Gareth said. "By order of the Academy and the Crown—you are sentenced to be sent to the Dreadhold Abyss."
Natan didn't react.
No fear. No defiance.
Just numb acceptance.
'So this is it.' he thought.
"Take him to the chamber. He leaves at dawn."
The guards grabbed him.
As he was dragged through the hall, he saw her.
A little girl she doesn't know the name of.
She was no more than five years old. Gleaming red eyes, deep black hair. Surrounded by maids. It was his sister.
She looked at him. He looked back. Just a brief glance.
"Mary, who's that?" the girl asked.
The maid paused for a bit and answered .
"...No one important, young mistress."
Natan clenched his fists.
'They didn't even tell her she had a brother.'
He lowered his head.
'I don't care anymore. I was never meant to live anyway. From the very moment of my birth I was already fated to die.'
His heart was hollow.
And his soul, already broken, was ready for the abyss.
--- Chapter 8 end