...So, you're here.
That means you want to know my story. My world. Maybe both.
Fine. But let me tell you—this isn't some bedtime fairytale where the hero rises from nothing to defeat the darkness and get the girl. I'm not a chosen one. Hell, I'm barely tolerated most of the time. And if you're expecting a grand tale of triumph and justice, you're in for disappointment.
Still interested? Good.
Let's begin with the world itself.
We call it Terros, though no one really remembers who named it. Maybe the gods, maybe some dead king desperate to leave a mark. Doesn't matter. What does matter is what governs it: magic. It's not a secret, or a miracle. It's a law, like gravity or pain. Every human is born with a natural affinity to one of the four great elements: fire, water, earth, or wind. Sounds simple, right? It isn't.
Each element has branches—advanced offshoots that take decades to master. Water isn't just water; it can freeze into ice, swirl into mist, or even manipulate pressure if you're crazy enough to try. Fire gives birth to lightning. Earth molds into metal. Wind... wind is stranger. Some say it echoes into sound, others into void.
Then there are the techniques—not spells, not tricks, but raw manipulations of mana that bend the world to your will. Ever seen someone coat themselves in stone to deflect a barrage of lightning? I have. Ever seen it backfire and crush the user's ribs? Also yes. Magic always comes at a price.
People train their mana cores their entire lives. Meditation, combat, ritual, desperation—it all serves one purpose: growth. Because your mana core is your life. Your worth. The stronger it is, the more you can do. The longer you survive.
And then there are the beasts.
Creatures made from mana, shaped by the world's will. Some are dumb as rocks. Others are smarter than most humans I know. They live in the Sanctuaries—twisted places where mana pulses through the land like blood. Entering one is a risk. Leaving with your life is a miracle. Leaving with a contracted beast? That's power.
They come in ranks from F to S. And the legends speak of one more: SS. Beasts born from myth, from storms and stardust. Uncontrollable. Unreachable.
Unless you're me.
But that comes later.
My name is Yoru Mikazuki. It means "three moons of the night." Pretentious, right? My parents were obsessed with symbolism. I guess they hoped I'd shine in the darkness.
Joke's on them. I am the darkness.
I was born with an affinity for ice. Cold, distant, silent. Fitting, isn't it? Most people hate the cold. It burns in its own way. You can't negotiate with it. You can't beg it to stop. It simply is. Like me.
And yet, there's more to my magic. It doesn't just freeze. It lingers like starlight, soft and distant, almost… divine. I've never understood it. No one has. But it's there. Watching. Waiting.
I've always been different. Quiet, yes. But not weak. I observe. I analyze. I plan five moves ahead while others swing their first punch. That's why I don't need to shout to be heard. I don't need to lead to be followed.
Not that I want followers. Most people bore me. They chase glory, fame, power. Me? I chase understanding. Control. A reason.
This all began when I turned thirteen. The age of testing. The day we receive our elemental resonance score, the moment our mana core is measured for the first time. Most kids cry or cheer. I just stood still.
I wasn't surprised when the examiner looked up, pale and trembling. "This reading... it's abnormal."
Yeah. I get that a lot.
That same day, I was scouted to the Astrae Academy. The most elite magical institution in the continent. A place where prodigies rise. Where monsters are born.
Most students enter full of hope. Dreams of contracting noble beasts, mastering hybrid spells, rising through the ten core levels and becoming Archmages.
I walked through those gates with one goal: to find it.
The source of the cold starlight inside me. The thing that watches when I dream.
So, yeah. This is my story.
A boy of ice and stars. A beast hiding behind a gentle smile. And the world that will learn that even silence can scream.
Still with me?
Good. Let's see if you can survive the chill.
Because I did.
Barely.