In the year R.R. (Resonant Rebirth) 2110 — the era of Resonance Restoration.
After the Spirit War era ended for hundreds of years.
A thunderstorm raged through the night-shrouded city — the roar of thunder drowning out the sirens of patrol drones hovering above the skyline.
In Althea-Nightres, the techno-arcane capital of the Valenthyr Kingdom, there were no stars, no moon — only the harsh neon glow from towering skyscrapers.
The night sky was a deep, unchanging shade of bluish black, as if the heavens themselves had long abandoned this place.
A fourteen years old boy stood atop the rooftop of an abandoned building, wrapped in a black winter coat.
The rain poured down on him relentlessly, yet he didn't move — not even slightly.
His name… was Fayros Darneth.
A boy without magic.
A boy without worth in a world driven by sorcery, technology, and AI.
In his hand was an Arcanium Access — a multi-purpose identity code device used for personal authentication at school.
A system notification popped up, displaying:
"Resignation Confirmation Result : Sorry, your resignation has not been approved."
"Why can't I even resign…?"
"I don't belong here. I never have… But even when I try to leave, they won't let me. This is the eighth time…"
He muttered silently, eyes dulled with exhaustion.
In this world, the powerless are nothing.
They're oppressed, ignored, looked down upon — stripped of all social rights.
Not even resignation is a choice afforded to them.
Survival means taking on whatever dangerous, dirty work they can find — no matter the cost.
The boy with jet-black hair tilted his head upward, staring at the starless night sky.
He let the rain drench his face, not bothering to move or wipe it away.
"Why don't I have anything…?"
"Not even mana… Why? Just a little… would've been enough."
As he made his way back to the school dormitory, Fayros walked through the rain like it was just another part of the routine.
The city glowed around him with vibrant neon signs, crowded restaurants, and the hum of lively voices — but to him, it all felt… hollow. Meaningless.
Then, something caught his eye — a narrow alley, barely noticeable between buildings, cluttered with discarded junk and forgotten waste.
Without a word, the black-haired boy turned and stepped into the shadows, alone.
The slow, rhythmic drip of water echoed through the narrow alley,
each drop slicing through the silence like a ticking clock in a tomb.
A foul stench — a mix of rotting garbage and stagnant water — hung heavy in the air,
the nauseating reek hitting him like a sewer's breath rising from below.
In front of him stood a massive dumpster overflowing with kitchen waste — both wet and dry — a perfect breeding ground for disease, mold, and flies.
To the right, cardboard boxes slumped together, their edges darkened by time and rot, barely holding together as mildew crept along their folds.
And yet… it was too quiet.
As if the shadows themselves were watching, holding their breath.
Something about the alley felt off — not just filthy, but… wrong.
As though something once alive had died here, and the memory still lingered.
The boy stood still for a long moment,
his jet-black eyes dull and heavy like ink, locked on the mound of discarded boxes.
It was as if something deep within him was whispering — a voice unspoken, urging him to move.
And then…
something compelled Fayros to start pulling them apart.
One box at a time, soaked and worn from time and weather,
until eventually, he uncovered a wooden crate — faded, sealed tightly, and strangely out of place.
It didn't reek like the rest.
No, this one carried only a faint mustiness,
as though it had only just been discarded in recent days.
Yet there was something about it… something that beckoned.
It felt like it was meant to be found.
As though it had waited — quietly, patiently — for someone like him to open it.
Fayros turned the box over carefully, inspecting its surface.
It was clearly old — antique, even — but had been well-preserved,
its structure remarkably intact despite the decay surrounding it.
Then, his black eyes caught a detail: a lock.
The crate was sealed shut with a small iron padlock, rusted tight with time, yet somehow still firm — a sign it had been maintained but left untouched for an incredibly long time.
And now, someone had simply thrown it away.
Fayros wasn't the owner.
He knew better than to carry a suspicious box through the neon-lit streets.
Instead, he left it hidden in the alley and quietly made his way toward a hardware store.
He didn't even have his energy knife with him — he'd left it back at the dorms.
The black-eyed boy bought a hammer.
It cost him more than half of what he needed to survive the week — a reckless decision, perhaps.
But compared to the cost of magical tools,
this mundane hammer was practically a relic from a secondhand junk store.
He returned to the alley.
Kneeling by the crate, Fayros raised the hammer, avoiding the center of the box to prevent damaging whatever lay inside.
He struck the side repeatedly, methodically,
until the aged wood gave way with a dull crack.
The lock and planks splintered.
The box slowly creaked open.
And when it did…
his ink-dark eyes trembled.
Inside the box lay… an old revolver and a worn-out ammunition case holding eighteen rounds — items untouched and unused for over a century.
Etched on the metal, a single word: Darneth.
He examined the side of the box and found an auction tag, faded and worn with age.
It dawned on him — the Darneth family must have existed long ago in history, only to vanish without a trace.
And by a strange twist of fate, the boy himself had randomly been given that very surname at the orphanage, eight years ago.
The coincidence was almost too perfect to ignore.
The boy guessed that someone had once auctioned the revolver,
but its heir likely saw no value in it — discarding the entire set and leaving it behind.
Fayros fell silent for a long moment,
his hands trembling slightly before he reached out and grasped the items.
"You're just like me, aren't you? Worthless. Meaningless to everyone…"
he muttered softly,
"Then I guess I'll keep you."
And with that, he took the relic with him.
The revolver and ammunition fit snugly into the inner pockets of his winter coat — one on each side.
Fayros was fairly confident the security systems wouldn't detect the old revolver.
After all, every single revolver was obsolete,
and no one had used guns like these for years.
…
The next morning, 7:11 a.m., inside classroom A-6 of Nexus Academy — the school of arcane machinery.
Fayros sat quietly in the corner, as always.
No one talked to him.
No one even saw him as a friend.
Other students chatted about their powers, about new spell apps, or their trusted magical companions.
But him…
he didn't have a single spell.
The reason he had gotten into this top-tier academy in the first place…
was because, at one point, the state organized a special entrance exam for orphans — a test covering magical theory, applications, and arcane history.
Fayros guessed every answer.
Yet, somehow, he scored abnormally high.
Even so… he still had no mana code.
By normal standards, gaining admission into Nexus Academy without one was impossible.
No one knew why the Queen herself had issued a special permit for him — a document that strictly forbade the school from expelling him… or even allowing him to resign.
It had been a year now.
Friendless as ever, Fayros quietly sketched a blonde girl with vivid aquamarine eyes onto a scrap of paper — each line drawn with quiet care.
But then…
"Hey! Magicless freak!"
The voice rang out, sharp and mocking.
It came from a boy with deep crimson hair and piercing golden eyes — Kaen Stravien.
A prodigy hailed as the "Flame of the Mid-Core System", for his ability to control fire on an algorithmic level — and for passing the high-tier Core Code Certification with ease, a feat only a handful in the kingdom could claim.
Kaen was the first person to ever speak to Fayros since he transferred to the academy…
But even so, the flame-haired boy had never once admitted that Fayros was anything close to a friend.
"If you're here just to mess with me again… leave me alone."
Fayros muttered, trying to push him away.
Kaen, as usual, ignored him. "What're you drawing?"
The black-haired boy let out a long sigh before replying curtly,
"…A girl."
Kaen burst out laughing. "What, your dream girl?"
"Please. Like anyone would ever care about a worthless loser like you."
Without hesitation, Kaen snatched the sheet of paper from Fayros's hands.
His golden eyes sparkled with that same mischievous glint — the same teasing glimmer he always wore whenever he messed with the black-eyed boy.
Without hesitation, Kaen snatched the sheet of paper from Fayros's hands.
His golden eyes sparkled with that same mischievous glint— the same teasing glimmer he always wore whenever he messed with the black-eyed boy.
"Well, well… So this is your dream girl, huh?" Kaen smirked as he eyed the drawing.
"Blonde hair, ocean-blue eyes… Let me guess — princess type?"
Fayros clenched his fists. "Give it back, Kaen."
Kaen ignored the demand, still staring at the sketch with that infuriating smirk.
"You've got guts, I'll give you that. Drawing someone this perfect when no one would even glance your way."
Fayros stood up slowly, his eyes dark and steady.
"I said — give it back."
Kaen finally lowered the paper, raising an eyebrow.
"Huh. You're really attached to this one. What, she your imaginary girlfriend or something?"
Fayros didn't answer. His silence spoke louder than any words.
Kaen chuckled, handing the paper back with a half-shrug.
"Relax. I wasn't gonna rip it up or anything. She's kinda cute, I guess… For someone drawn by a nobody like you."
But little did Fayros know…
Every time he mentioned that girl in the drawing — Kaen's eyes… would always flicker, just slightly.
As if those golden irises were swallowing something down.
Something burning.
Something sharp.
Something Kaen himself wouldn't dare admit was a feeling.
If Fayros had just looked up, just once — he might've noticed how that mocking grin trembled a little, as if it were struggling to bury something deep in his chest.
But Fayros never noticed.
Or maybe…
He chose not to.
The black-haired boy, who had been bullied for years, was beginning to lose his patience.
It was as if his instincts were telling him to protect the girl in the drawing — even if she might not be real.
She was the only thing he had ever held onto in a world that never gave him anything.
Fayros clenched his teeth, his voice slow but firm, as if something inside his heart had finally broken.
"Don't… you dare touch that drawing with your filthy hands again!"
Fayros muttered quietly, yet clearly,
enough to make the entire classroom turn and stare.
Every pair of eyes fixed on him, disbelief written across their faces — that the "magicless freak" would dare to shout at anyone.
Kaen's eyes widened.
Those golden eyes flickered for a split second before settling into a look he knew well.
The look of a fighter.
The look that told him exactly how to respond.
Thud!
The black-haired boy, as dark as the midnight sky, was shoved hard by Kaen and fell to the floor.
"What's so special about your stupid little drawing, huh? You black-eyed freak!"
"What did you say!?" Fayros growled fiercely, his anger flaring.
"Think you're so cool just 'cause you're the first normal kid who doesn't use Nano-Arcane Code? Get real!"
Kaen sneered, his words dripping with contempt, making Fayros falter for a moment.
No one in the classroom noticed — the golden eyes of Kaen trembled slightly,
hiding a deep, unspoken meaning beneath that fleeting flicker.
"Oh! I almost forgot—
you're even more worthless than the lowest scum around here.
The others may have mana… but you?
Not a single drop.
You're just garbage.
So don't go acting like you're any better than that."
To most people, it might've sounded like just another ordinary insult.
But to Fayros, those words pierced deeper than five knives stabbing into his heart.
But suddenly, a voice rang out inside Fayros' mind, drowning out Kaen's words completely.
The voice echoed loudly, as if the others weren't even speaking.
"What are you waiting for? Hurry up and kill him!"
"Kill him... kill him... kill him!"
"Kill him... destroy him... don't let him live..."
"Don't let him die a good death..."
But the cruelest, most piercing voice that struck Fayros' soul harder than a ton of bricks was…
"Just kill like you killed us..."
That voice made Fayros' ink-black eyes — eyes that seemed as though they had been crossed out by the hands of God — suddenly falter.
A stillness fell over him.
Not a sound.
Not even a breath.
Just silence — so heavy, so absolute — it felt like death itself was quietly creeping in.
Even Kaen could feel it.
"H-Hey! Say something, damn it!"
Kaen tried desperately to snap Fayros out of it, panic creeping into his voice.
He clenched his fist, ready to punch the expressionless boy square in the face — anything to bring him back.
Smack!
The sharp crack of a slap echoed through the classroom, silencing every breath in the room. Fayros's head jerked to the side, the sting on his left cheek snapping him back to reality.
But the hand that delivered the blow…
wasn't Kaen's.
It belonged to a girl — with soft blonde hair tied neatly to the side and eyes glowing a vibrant hue between violet and pink. She stood tall, poised, in a modified version of the Nexus Academy girl's uniform — marked with silver-glowing trim and a bold insignia on her chest:
"S-Rank Exchange Student."
Pinned neatly to the left side of her chest was a name tag that revealed her identity loud and clear:
Velmira Valientear
"You… you're the magicless boy everyone's been whispering about, aren't you?"
The girl's clear, ringing voice broke through the tension in the air.
"Y… Yeah…" Fayros turned toward her, locking eyes.
Her eyes — brilliant amethyst with a faint pink sheen — struck something deep inside him.
His heart skipped a beat.
It was as if something — buried in a forgotten corner of his past — was now calling out to him through those eyes.
"Who's that? She's cute."
"A new transfer?"
But before the classroom could descend into total chaos, the homeroom teacher quickly stepped in to restore order — and made the introduction in place of the blonde girl.
"Alright, alright! Settle down, everyone! This young lady here is Princess Lira Velmira Valientear. Her Highness will be joining your class starting today."
"Please take good care of me" Lira said with a polite smile.
And then… the atmosphere in the classroom shifted abruptly.
Laughter and whispers were replaced by a heavy silence filled with sudden respect.
"Wait… have I just fallen for a princess?" someone muttered, disbelief flickering in their voice.
"Apologies, Your Highness! We regret our earlier insolence!" came the nervous chorus.
One by one, the students stiffened their postures, adjusted their uniforms, and tried to erase the mischief from their faces — as if the cruel jeers moments ago were nothing but a distant memory.
Everyone… except one.
Fayros.
He remained still and silent, a strange ache gnawing at his chest.
Not from fear. Not from surprise.
But something deeper.
His voice had roared just moments ago, fierce and trembling with defiance. Yet now, he was mute.
Not because he was intimidated by her royal presence.
But because just one glance into those violet eyes… felt like an unseen grip squeezing his heart tight, leaving him breathless.
A pain sharper than any insult thrown by Kaen.
It was as if he had known her once.
As if she had been the center of his world.
Yet the memories had been stolen away.
Her name — etched so deeply in his soul — now wiped clean by some cruel hand.
Why?
Why does merely hearing her name send this sharp ache through his chest?
Why does it feel as if his heart… had already been broken long ago?
A soft voice spoke right beside him.
"Can I sit with you?"
A simple sentence. The first time anyone had ever spoken kindly and directly to the boy everyone deemed worthless.
To anyone else, it was an ordinary phrase — but to Fayros, the boy with pitch-black hair and a heart wrapped in silence, it made his chest tighten and his heart race for the very first time.
"Hmm…" Fayros answered shortly, avoiding her gaze.
But who would have thought such a small response would ignite chaos in the classroom immediately afterward?
"Are you sure it's a good idea, Your Highness, sitting next to that 'No Arcane Code' guy!?"
Kaen exclaimed in shock, his voice betraying how much he didn't want this to happen — yet his eyes told a different story that no one else noticed.
"If Lady Lira sits with him, your honor might be tarnished!" Marine Favine, the short purple-haired girl in the class, quickly shouted out a warning to Lira.
"No matter if he lacks an Arcane Code or not, we should at least give him a chance… Just one chance is enough" Lira said honestly, her words striking everyone's heart — even Fayros's dark, ink-black eyes trembled.
Suddenly, the left pupil of the black-haired boy's dark, ink-black eyes dimmed slightly before returning to its original opaque darkness.
…
08:20 AM.
In Mathematics class — a subject Lira adored — Fayros felt completely the opposite.
Everyone had their Nexus Tabs open, displaying transparent screens, focusing intently on the lesson. Then, Lira's clear voice broke the silence as she addressed the quiet boy.
"Don't you like math? It's fun, you know."
Fayros remained silent, as if processing the information in his mind.
"Oh! I forgot to ask… What's your name?"
"Fayros… Fayros Darneth… just a kid without a magic code who refuses to use the Nano-Arcane Code…"
"Fayros? That's a difficult name."
"To be honest… I don't really have a true name. But in the orphanage… I had to have a name… a name I chose myself, and a surname that was given to me… that's all."
After Fayros answered, Lira decided not to ask further, to make him feel more comfortable.
Suddenly, Fayros broke the silence.
"You're a princess… so why lower yourself to talk to someone like me? And why are you even studying here…?"
Lira paused for a moment. She swallowed and then replied softly,
"I don't know… maybe… because you feel familiar to me?"
Fayros froze, his hands trembling slightly. He turned his face toward the window, as if lost in thought, before going back to sketching.
Whoosh!
Lira suddenly snatched Fayros's drawing paper.
"Hey! Pay attention in class!"
Fayros fell silent, his dark eyes trembling slightly. He muttered softly,
"What's the point of studying… if the system is this unfair?"
Lira froze for a moment, her pinkish-purple eyes wavering. She swallowed hard, then spoke in a soft, trembling voice,
"Why do you think that way…?"
Fayros didn't respond right away. Instead, he turned his attention back to his drawing, sketching each line with deliberate care — almost as if his hatred for the system stemmed from something deeper, unresolved.
Then, in a voice just loud enough for Lira to hear, he muttered — not really answering her question at all:
"I'm not some pawn in someone's stupid game. And I'm not letting this system drag me down with it…"
Lira's eyes wavered slightly at those words. She let out a long sigh before returning her focus to the math lesson.
"Sigh… Fine, suit yourself. But don't come asking to copy my homework later… you idiot."
Time went on.
The atmosphere in the classroom grew increasingly tense and oppressive, until —
Clack!
The sound of Fayros's drawing pencil hitting the floor broke the silence.
Everyone in the room turned to look at him immediately.
"…Sorry" He muttered quietly.
As Fayros bent down to pick up the pencil, a sudden image flashed in his mind — a gleaming steel blade.
And then, a voice — his own, yet deeper, darker, and more resolute — echoed through his thoughts:
"Rule number one for the survival of the weak:
Make them afraid.
Make them believe you're strong."
Finally, the bright red flowing like a sea of blood, the strewn corpses, the burning smell of gunpowder, and this is the texture of hundreds of people today, painfully.
But then…
A whisper, clearer than anything else amidst the voices and images in his mind:
"You are the cinder of war…
One who once stood above all…
Remember what you have lost."