The sky over Valtherion had turned gray.
A foreign magical aura cloaked the heavens, crackling like a force tearing open the seams of a sealed dimension. Inside the grand palace—in the heart of the throne hall—the sound of battle rumbled through the air. Frantic footsteps, the hiss of colliding spells, and the cries of fallen soldiers formed a brutal symphony that shattered the kingdom's calm.
Beyond the crystal walls, red stains bled into the shadows.
Too much blood had been spilled today. Too many had fallen—
And Valtherion was still bleeding.
"Quick! Secure the western perimeter!"
"Call in the magic shield battalion! They've broken past the third line!"
Guards and servants ran in every direction, abandoning the strict royal protocols they had once upheld. There were no more bows. No more perfect postures.
Only the desperate will to survive.
Amidst the chaos, the golden-etched doors opened slowly.
A tall figure entered without urgency, dark-haired and sharp-eyed. A long cloak draped his frame, embroidered with the Valtherion crest glowing faintly on his chest.
Mathien Caevior Valtherion.
The one and only crown prince.
The irreplaceable heir of ancient magic blood.
His face showed no fear. But a slight frown appeared as Mathien noticed palace maids limping with injuries, and two soldiers lying lifeless near the grand gates, soaked in blood.
"What is this?" he asked, soft but cold.
"Who dares defile the heart of Valtherion?"
A guard stumbled into a half-bow, gasping for air.
"Your Highness… foreign magic breached the third barrier… they've entered the main hall… they're trying to—"
"Break the throne seal?" Mathien cut in.
His tone remained calm, but his eyes flashed with danger.
The guard only nodded, trembling.
Mathien stepped forward, passing over the cracked marble floors.
"Where is Father?"
"His Majesty is in the throne chamber with Her Majesty… they're holding the seal."
Mathien fell silent. His gaze drifted toward the sky outside—now painted a deep violet-black. The scent of unfamiliar magic stung his nose, boiling the blood in his veins.
He raised a hand slowly, and flames of azure danced at his fingertips.
"Pathetic," he muttered.
"Even the main hall, overrun by such low-tier filth?"
"Your Highness… please… don't go further in. It's too dangerous."
Mathien turned. His stare was icy—borderline insulting.
"And what do you suppose my purpose is, if not to wipe out the scum defiling this palace?"
His steps echoed as he entered the corridor toward the throne room.
The palace walls trembled softly, as if bracing against the pressure outside.
Blue and golden light flickered behind the partially closed doors—
A magic battle was raging inside.
Mathien pushed the door open without hesitation.
A rush of heat met his face.
King Darius stood at the center of the room, his war cloak billowing, left hand glowing bright as he deflected incoming spells aimed at the throne's protective seal.
Beside him, Queen Caelia knelt weakly, barely holding her shield spell upright, her body already trembling from exhaustion.
"Father!" Mathien's voice rang out.
"What's happening?! Let me fight! I can hold them off!"
The King glanced at him briefly. His eyes were sharp—not in anger, but in sheer exhaustion.
"Leave this place, Mathien," he said sternly.
"This isn't your battle."
"Not my—? This is Valtherion! My blood is your blood! I'm the heir—I won't cower behind walls while our kingdom is attacked!"
Mathien moved closer, his magic now flaring violently, shaking the chamber.
"Let me fight. I can destroy them."
"That's the problem." King Darius' voice lowered, trembling with grief.
"They didn't come for the throne.
They came for you."
Mathien froze. The blue light in his aura flickered.
"You're the sole heir to Arkanum blood. If they touch you—just touch you—the kingdom's seal collapses.
The throne will shatter.
Valtherion will vanish from the map of the world."
"But I can fight—"
"And if you fail, you'll die. And the kingdom will die with you."
King Darius looked at him with a face carved by pain, but unshaken in will.
"You think I want to send you away? I'm not even sure… I'll ever see you again."
Mathien clenched his fists.
"So you're giving up? Banishing me like some child scared of the dark?"
"No. I'm saving Valtherion. The only way I can—by removing you from its reach."
Queen Caelia raised her head, voice barely a whisper.
"Mathien… my son… you must trust us. This world is too cruel, even for your strength. Protect yourself. That's the only way to protect us."
Mathien's jaw tightened. His breath hitched.
"…Where are you sending me?"
"Earth."
King Darius raised a hand, and a seal unraveled.
A dimensional rift tore open in the center of the room.
Mathien stepped back as the vortex widened before him.
Arcane winds howled, sweeping across the crystal floors.
Swirls of violet and blue spun within, like a spiral of stars devouring space and time.
"Earth?" Mathien repeated in disbelief.
"You're casting me into the human world? That weak, unclean realm?"
"You'll be safe there," King Darius said firmly, eyes fixed on the rift.
"They won't be able to reach you."
"Wait," Mathien strode forward, his face hardening.
"I don't consent to this. I won't—"
"This isn't a request."
The King's tone dropped—low, resolute, unshakable.
Mathien fell silent. His stare was sharp.
"You can't just decide my life for me."
"I am the King of Valtherion."
Darius turned to face him fully. His eyes held unspoken scars.
"And I am your father."
Without warning, he raised his hand—swift, decisive, absolute.
Imperial magic surged through the room.
In a flash, a protective seal wrapped around Mathien's body, cutting off his powers.
"What are you—?!"
Mathien never finished the sentence. A tremendous force struck his chest—not a blow, not a violent spell, but raw dimensional power hurled by his own father.
His body shot backward, dragged into the swirling vortex.
The roar of magic drowned out his desperate cry—
"FATHER! STOP! I—"
Too late.
One final breath of Valtherion air.
One last look at Queen Caelia, who wept in silence.
And then, all was gone.
Blinding light swallowed Mathien whole.
His cloak unraveled.
His magic shattered into streaks of energy.
And in a matter of seconds—the most powerful prince of Valtherion… vanished from the world.
The portal closed with a soft thud.
The room fell into heavy silence.
King Darius clutched his chest. No tears. Just the suffocating quiet.
🌸🌸🌸
That night, the village sky was clear.
Stars glittered above the sleeping flower fields, swayed gently by the night breeze.
The scent of jasmine and damp earth lingered along the quiet, narrow roads.
A rickety bicycle moved slowly between the tall grass.
On it, a schoolgirl in a faded uniform, a half-empty basket of flowers on the front, pedaled with tired legs and a soft hum.
Hana.
Her black hair was damp with sweat after a long, sun-soaked day.
Dust clung to her flushed cheeks.
And yet—she smiled. Her eyes were weary, but never dim.
"Good thing the last store bought a bunch," she mumbled.
"Maybe tomorrow I can get Grandma some chicken."
She turned the corner toward home—but suddenly stopped.
Her bike skidded to a slow halt.
Something strange streaked across the sky.
A light—
Not lightning.
Not a plane.
Too fast.
Too bright.
And… it fell. From the sky.
"A shooting star?" she whispered.
Hana set her feet on the ground, staring wide-eyed.
The light danced across the stars before vanishing behind the hill near her backyard flower garden.
Without thinking, she cupped her hands and closed her eyes.
"Dear God," she whispered softly.
"If that was a real shooting star…
I wish for a better life after this."
She opened her eyes slowly, then giggled.
"Heh. Silly, huh? But oh well. Maybe it'll come true."
Hana began pedaling again, her bike cutting through the night, a small smile on her lips.
She didn't know yet…
that the "falling star" she had just witnessed—
was actually the most arrogant creature from another world,
soon to crash into her life—literally.
And from that night onward,
her life would never be the same again.
🌸🌸🌸