Nero streaked through the sky, wind howling in his ears.
The Kira estate loomed ahead, guards barely catching a glimpse of the blur before dust and leaves exploded in their faces.
By the time they recovered, he had already blasted through the outer courtyard, slowing only when the inner hall opened before him.
His boots touched down with a crisp click, his demeanor elegant as ever.
Unfortunately for the maid dozing on a sofa nearby, that sound was the herald of doom.
She jolted upright, nearly toppling over as her eyes locked on the young lord standing before her like some avenging spirit.
"Ah...! Forgive me, Young Lord!" she squeaked, bowing so hard her forehead nearly met the floor. "I-I wasn't slacking, I was only… only…"
Nero raised a hand. "It's fi—"
But she was already apologizing again, her words tumbling over each other. "Please don't punish me! I'll..I'll scrub the entire west wing if I must!"
Nero faltered mid-breath, staring blankly. …What?
The silence stretched awkwardly.
The girl trembled, convinced she was about to be incinerated by a glare alone.
And truthfully, with his mana still rolling off him unchecked, he did feel terrifying..., even more suffocating than the Lady of the house herself.
Realization dawned on Nero. Right. He had forgotten to suppress his aura.
Again.
He exhaled, brushing it away like a candle flame.
The atmosphere lightened instantly.
"You're free to go," he said simply, already walking past her.
The maid blinked. Once, twice. The crushing weight was gone...vanished in an instant. Her heart thudded in confusion. Was I imagining it…?
And then, it hit her like a cart of bricks.
No… no, that wasn't a threat. That was kindness! He spared me. Me, a mere maid. He even said I was free...free!
Her eyes welled up with tears.
The young lord is so kind... He must be so lonely… Everyone misunderstands him, whispers about him, calls him terrifying, when in truth...he's just a gentle soul trapped in shadows!
Nero, halfway down the hall, felt her stare boring into his back.
He risked a glance....only to nearly trip when he caught sight of her trembling lips, her watery eyes full of tragic pity.
"…What do you want now?" he muttered to himself, shoulders stiff. Why that look? Out of all things...
He sighed walking away putting the wierd made at the back of his mind.
The maid clutched her chest, misreading his sigh entirely.
Ah, even now he hides his pain. That weary back… that lonely figure walking away into the dark…!
A soft sob escaped her before she could stop it.
Young Lord, please bear with this cruel world a little longer!
Nero dragged a hand down his face not understanding the maid, quickening his pace.
Behind him, the maid stared at his fading silhouette with misty eyes, her heart pounding in a swirl of fear, admiration, and melodramatic resolve.
From today… I'll serve you faithfully, Young Lord. Even if no one else understands you… I will!!!
By the time he reached the inner wing, his mood had shifted..he closed his eyes for a moment while walking concentrating on his surroundings..
The air felt emptier than usual.
Wrong. The familiar flame of his mother's mana...always present somewhere in the estate ....was gone.
He frowned.
Today of all days, when he'd been dismissed from training, free of duties… she had vanished without a word.
It wasn't normal for her to go away now.
She no longer had official obligations; having retired from being the captain of her magic knights squad.
Even if they never told him outright, Nero had long suspected the truth.
His mother's strength had been fading, from some hidden ailment.
His steps carried him to her study, hand reaching for the handle...
"Young Lord, please wait."
The words stopped him.
An older man stepped forward from the side, posture crisp, uniform immaculate, silver at his temples. His mother's Butler and the most trusted man she had...Oswald.
Nero blinked, confused. "…What do you mean?"
Oswald bowed slightly, though his voice remained firm. "By Lady Abigail's direct order, no one is to enter her study without her permission....Not even you, Young Lord."
Nero stared at him, golden hair catching the lantern-light, his brows knitting slowly.
"I don't remember ever needing your permission to move around this estate," he said evenly, each word sharp. "Stopping me means nothing."
Oswald did not waver. His head dipped respectfully lower, but his tone held. "I apologize. Even so, I cannot allow it. My Lady's command is absolute...and I must carry it no matter the cost."
For a heartbeat, silence.
Then the air shifted.
A wave of raw mana rippled outward from Nero, thick enough to rattle the lanterns on the wall. The floor groaned under the sudden weight of it, shadows twisting in the corners of the hall.
Oswald's breath caught for the briefest second. He had stood beside Lady Abigail through war and fire, but the sheer density pressing down on him now was something else entirely—like standing at the edge of a cliff where the world itself might collapse.
Nero's eyes narrowed, golden hair falling into his face, his expression unreadable. His voice was low, almost trembling with anger.
"…Even me?"
The question was quiet, but the force behind it was suffocating.
Oswald stood firm, though his jaw tightened. "Yes, Young Lord. Even you."
The wave of mana sharpened—cutting, furious. For a moment, the hallway itself seemed to shrink beneath it, a suffocating reminder of just how dangerous he truly was.
But then—just as suddenly—it stilled.
Nero inhaled sharply, closing his eyes. The wild surge of mana folded back into him, leaving only the faint flicker of his cloak settling around his frame.
His hands curled into fists at his side, his jaw tight. He looked at Oswald for a long, silent moment, then turned without another word.
He walked away. Boots clicking sharply against the floor. Shoulders stiff.
Because despite the storm clawing at his chest, despite the urge to force his way through...he wouldn't.
Nero hated fighting. Hated conflict. If not for duty, he would never raise his hand at all. And though anger burned in his veins, he could not direct it at the man who was only following her will.
So he left.
---
The highest ridge of the Kira estate was quiet.
Nero perched there for a long while, legs folded up, chin resting on his knees.
The roof tiles beneath him radiated the faint warmth they'd gathered from the sun, but it didn't ease the tight knot of irritation twisting in his chest.
The air felt thinner up here, the lights from noble realm looked relatively small and distant.
A perfect place to sulk.
He shut his eyes, replaying the moment Oswald barred him from the study....
His brows drew together. "Not even me," he muttered under his breath, lips curving into a pout that would've looked almost comical if anyone had been around to see it. "What's the difference ....This is my home. I always sit there when she's working…"
He lifted his hand pointing at the sky , and a beam of pure mana shot upward, piercing the sky in a clean streak before vanishing.
"…Stupid." Another beam. A sharper one, his control slipping just enough to slightly crack the edge of a tile.
"Feels like they're plotting something... Canceling training, mother gone... ."
The stars overhead blinked back at him, patient and indifferent.
He kept firing thin beams of mana at them, picking one at random, aiming, then flicking it away.
They fizzled out long before reaching anything, but for a moment, it felt like he was striking back against something.
It's not like he didn't notice the changes in his mother, she was so strong once....now she seems to be getting weaker by the day.
His training was also stuck in the same endless plateau.
And his magic...his damn magic.
Every teacher said the same thing: it will show itself in time.
But Nero's mana… was empty.
He could weave mana skin, even reinforce his body instinctively in ways others struggled to grasp, but that was just technique.
The core of it...his magic itself, remained a mystery. Everyone whispered that maybe he would inherit his mother's famed Creation Magic.
He told himself he didn't care, that it didn't matter.
But when he sat up here alone, the thought gnawed at him.
"What if it never comes?" he whispered to the night, voice sharper than he intended.
His fingers flexed, and another jagged bolt shot into the sky. "What if I stay… stuck?"
The words dissolved in the air, sounding too small..
He scowled and flopped backward, golden hair spilling across the tiles, staring up at the stars that stubbornly refused to yield to his irritation.
His pout lingered, arms crossed tightly over his chest, as if that alone could trap the irritation inside.
"…Some stupid plot," he grumbled again, softer this time. His eyelids drooped despite him trying to fight it. "Oswald… mother… all of them…"
The beams ceased. His hand twitched once, as though he meant to fire again, but no mana came.
The estate's young lord drifted into sleep, sulking even as his breathing evened, the faint frown on his face refusing to fade.
Up on the highest point of the estate, Nero looked less like a feared prodigy and more like what he truly was...just a child.
---
The estate was silent, save for the soft rasp of night insects.
High above, Nero's small figure had finally stilled, curled faintly as though the world had exhausted him.
His golden hair caught the starlight, face softened in sleep, though the faint frown still clung stubbornly....even in dreams.
At the heart of the estate, the doors of the forbidden study creaked open.
Oswald was waiting, posture straight but expression strained, the lanternlight casting long shadows across his silvered hair.
From within stepped Abigail.
Her pristine uniform hung slightly loose, her golden hair clinging to her face with sweat.
She moved like someone who had just fought a battle...
Her knees threatened to buckle.
Oswald reached out instinctively, but she brushed him aside with a sharp shake of her head.
A pulse of mana flickered through her body. Invisible scaffolds of her own making wrapped around her bones and muscles, supporting her faltering frame.
Her back straightened, her shoulders lifted.
To any other eye, she might have looked unshaken.
But Oswald had known her too long.
His lips pressed thin, his voice quieter, heavier than the formal tones he used with others. He wasn't speaking to the matriarch of the Kira family who wielding one of the most versatile magic in existence.
He was speaking to the girl he had practically raised, the one who had once run laughing through the halls with ink-stained hands...
"Abigail… is it truly worth it?"
The weight of his words settled in the air, thicker than the night.
"The person the young lord needs the most… is you... Not duty. Not secrets....You. Are you truly happy with what you're doing...?"
For a moment she didn't answer. Her eyes seemed unfocused, drifting past him, not seeing the walls, not seeing the estate she had built.
"How could I be happy?" Her voice cracked, faint but unflinching.
She exhaled slowly, steadying herself, as if the words themselves hurt to say. "But I know… he'll understand in time."
Oswald's jaw tightened. His hands curled into fists at his sides. "…Are you sure?"
At last, her gaze snapped to him. The haze was gone, replaced by a steady confidence that burned with familiar fire.
Her lips curved into the faintest shadow of a smile.
"Yes. I'm sure. Because…" She paused, her voice softening, yet ringing with conviction.
"…he's my greatest creation."
======================
Power Stones and Reviews please