He stood tall — unnervingly so — with a posture that reeked of control, as if even the air around him answered to his bloodline. His dark cyan hair fell in sharp, layered strands, pushed back just enough to show the angular lines of his face. In the sunlight, it shimmered like deep ocean steel — polished, unnatural, and cold.
He wore a long dark cape, the edges lined with gold thread and the sigil of his house stitched proudly across the back — a symbol Kael recognized immediately: one of the Eight. Beneath the cape, a regal battle coat clung to his form — black and silver, armor-like in its structure but elegant in detail, like a general born from a throne instead of the battlefield.
There was no dust on his boots. No stain on his gloves.
He looked like a man who never had to fight for anything — because the world handed him everything before he even asked.
And yet, he carried himself like a king marching to war — not out of duty, but for the thrill of conquest.
They say the continent is boundless. A world carved by gods, drowned in empires — millions of them spread like stars across the land.
But only eight truly matter.
Eight families, ruling from their fortresses at the edges and center of the world. Their armies don't just hold borders — they hold the skies, the oceans, the kingdoms. Each family rules over at least a hundred thousand subordinate domains, yet their territories make up barely ten percent of the land.And still… the entire continent bows.
Kael had studied it. Memorized it. Lived beneath its shadow.
The North — home to frost-blooded war clans and beast riders.The South — overgrown and ancient, ruled by those who speak to trees and dragons,demons and demihumans.The East — the desert and the monster killer hound family.The West — iron dukes in black mountains, born from molten stone and old war.And at the Center — the three greatest houses, sitting atop temples, courts, and coin. Where wars are not fought with swords, but with signatures.
Among them stood House Elarion. The heart of politics. The masters of diplomacy and dominance. And standing at its pinnacle—
Vaelion Elarion, the first son.A man with dark cyan hair, a noble's stride, and the terrifying arrogance of someone who had never been told "no."He dressed like a general on the eve of war — obsidian cape, silver-trimmed battlecoat, every thread screaming power.
And power he had. Not the kind taught in tomes. Not the kind earned in combat.
🧬 Phoenix Birth – The Bloodline ability of House Evalion only one person has it.
An SS-Rank ability. One of the rarest in recorded history.A gift only passed to the firstborn. A power that did not come from books or study — but from blood, and flame, and rebirth.
When struck down, Vaelion's body would ignite, burning itself and everything nearby into ash. And then, from that very ash, he would rise again — stronger, faster, hotter. His skin healed. His aura blazing in Cyan flame. His mind burning with unstable clarity.
It was not a spell. Not magic.
It was ability — raw, soul-bound power.
🔷 In This World, There Are Two Paths of Power
Magic, the path of the many.Ability, the path of the gifted.
About seventy percent of the population followed the path of mages — learning spells, channeling mana, casting fireballs and lightning bolts. Mages trained, memorized, calculated. They could grow stronger. Smarter. Quicker.
But then… there were the others.
Those born with a single, soul-carved gift — an ability.They could not use magic. Could not cast spells.But their one ability, when mastered, could shape nations.
Abilities are ranked by strength:
F, E, D, C, B, A, S, SS, SSS and Z.Z-rank abilities appear once in a millennium. SS-rank abilities? Maybe once a generation.
no matter the rank two person cant have the same ability until unless the person dies then someone new is born with that ability.
Vaelion Evarion didn't study spells. He didn't need to.
His very existence was a weapon.Phoenix Birth was not just rare. It was a statement."You cannot kill me — but by trying, you'll burn."
Kael clenched his fists.
He remembered the look in Vaelion's eyes — calm, amused, superior — right after throwing him across the garden floor like trash. Remembered Clara's silence. The weight of power. The difference between a prince and a broken noble's son.
"One day," Kael whispered to himself, "I'll rise too. Not from flames. From nothing."
In this world, everyone is born with one of two things:
Either magic—the ability to learn and cast spells through mana…
Or an ability—a soul-bound power, unique and irreversible.
But Kael was born with neither.
No mana. No spell affinity. No inner pulse of energy.No echo of an ability.Not even a whisper of power in his soul.
It had never happened before. Not once in recorded history.
The day of his birth, every mage assigned to test him gave the same verdict—
"He is… empty."
In a world built on power, he was considered a flawed existence.Some called him Cursed by the Void.Others whispered darker things — that someone, or something, had sealed him before he was even born.
no matter what he tries nothing happens , everyone calls him "CURSED BASTARD"
"In this world, ability is more than a gift. It is law—it defines your place, your strength, and sometimes, your fate."
Unlike mages, who channel mana and study spells, ability users are born with a singular, innate power—tied to their soul. They cannot use standard magic. Their power cannot be taught or replicated. But their impact can rival armies.
Abilities are not random. Over centuries, scholars and empires have classified them into four distinct categories:
1. Elemental Abilities (Type: Control)
Users control a specific element innately—fire, water, wind, thunder, earth, nature, sand, crystal, ice, magma, light, darkness etc.There are exactly twelve known elemental abilities, with two more classified as "Unsolved", believed to represent elements beyond human understanding.
they are the rarest of all ability.
2. Body-Alteration Abilities (Type: Enhancement)
These allow the user to permanently or temporarily enhance or change a part of their body.Their focus is physical combat — speed, strength, durability.
Examples:
Ironhide – skin turns to steel
Flashstep – extreme short-range speed bursts
Beastbone – limbs morph into animal traits
These users are feared in close quarters, often mistaken for monsters during battle.
3. Summoning Abilities (Type: Manifestation)
These users can summon weapons, artifacts, or even spirits to fight beside them or channel power through.
Examples:
Blade Vault – summons a library of legendary swords
Spirit Choir – summons singing banshees that disable magic
Mythborne Beast – a single ancient creature bound to their soul
Summoners are often strategists, controlling the battlefield from range.
4. Nova Abilities (Type: Unknown)
These are the rarest and most unstable class of abilities.They do not fit into elemental, body, or summoning categories.
Each Nova ability is completely unique, often bending or breaking world rules. Their effects are impossible to predict or replicate, and many are treated as dangerous anomalies.
Vaelion Evarest is a known Nova.
His ability, Phoenix Birth, allows him to resurrect through flame, growing stronger each time — a direct violation of life's natural law.
Whenever a Nova or Elemental ability is triggered, a distinct mark appears on the forehead of the user:
For Elementals, the mark represents their element (flame, water, etc.)
For Novas, the mark is unique to the individual — chaotic, unrecognizable, and ever-shifting
These marks vanish once the ability fades — but to witness one glowing is to know a real threat has entered the field.
Kael's shout echoed through the marble courtyard, but Clara said nothing.
She stood there, her white and blue hair tousled from what he could no longer deny. Her dress clung loosely to her frame. Her lips—once his—were still red from another man's kiss.
That man stepped forward.
Vaelion Evarest.
Cape sweeping behind him. Battlecoat crisp. Eyes glowing faintly with simmering heat. Even without his ability active, his presence twisted the air like something holy and cruel had taken human form.
"You're loud for someone so… irrelevant," Vaelion said, voice calm.
Kael charged without thinking.
His fist flew—sloppy, desperate. But Vaelion didn't move. He didn't even blink.
Crack.
Kael's world spun sideways. His back hit the ground with a sickening thud. Blood pooled in his mouth, warm and metallic. His vision blurred.
Around him, students and warriors of the RagDon clan began to gather. Some had been watching from a distance. Others appeared, drawn by the commotion. All saw the same thing:
Kael, bloodied and on the ground.Vaelion, standing untouched.Clara, by his side.
"This is your pride?" Vaelion asked, stepping closer. "This is what RagDon trains? Trash from a fallen house?"
Someone chuckled in the crowd. Then another.Kael heard it through the ringing in his ears.Laughter. Smirks.Some turned away. Some stayed to gawk.
A few looked uncomfortable—but no one moved.
No one helped.
Then he felt it—the weight of it. A burning heat pressing down on him. Not from the sun. Not from pain.
From Phoenix Birth.The ability flared briefly. A faint ember danced in Vaellion's eyes.The mark glowed on his forehead—a shifting, flame-shaped sigil, pulsing like a heartbeat of cyan fire.
The air cracked. The stones beneath Kael hissed from the residual heat.
Clara leaned into Vaellion. He wrapped an arm around her waist. Their silhouettes overlapped like royalty walking past a beggar.
"Come, Clara," he said. "We've wasted enough time on broken things."
And they left.
Just like that.
The cape disappeared behind the archway. The laughter faded.
And Kael… lay there.
Face to the stone.Blood in his eyes.Rage buried under layers of shame.
Everyone saw.
No one stopped it.
some people in shawdows also saw the whole thing undergo.