The first thing the midwife noticed when Malric Varnen was born wasn't his weight or how loud his cries were—it was the eerie silence that followed.
No glow. No spark. No sign of a Gift.
In a world where every child was born with a divine blessing—some with the power to control wind, others with the strength to tear mountains in half—Malric arrived with nothing.
No aura. No mark from the heavens. No recognition from the gods.
The nurse held him awkwardly, eyes wide with disbelief. "He's… ungifted," she whispered.
That one word spread like wildfire. Within the hour, the mother was gone. The father never returned. The hospital listed him as abandoned, and by morning, Malric Varnen was tossed into the system with a red mark on his file:
Cursed.
---
Fifteen years later.
The city of Thalos buzzed with power and pride. Neon glyphs hovered over the skyline, casting golden lights that danced across every building. People strolled through floating sidewalks, teenagers flung spells for fun, and the elite rode skybeasts to school. Every corner of the city echoed with the pulsing heartbeat of the gifted.
Except for one boy.
Malric Varnen.
He stood quietly outside the back entrance of Argent Academy—the top-tier school for the gifted. His mop dragged along the polished marble floor as he worked silently, wearing the gray uniform of a janitor.
The same age as the students inside, but not one of them.
He wasn't allowed to sit in the classrooms. Wasn't allowed to speak unless spoken to. His job was to clean up their messes—literal and otherwise.
He scrubbed harder at a smear of enchanted ink that shimmered and resisted. His arms ached. His knees burned.
A voice laughed behind him.
"Well, well, if it isn't the godless rat."
Malric froze.
Zeke.
Tall, golden-haired, and practically radiating with pride, Zeke strutted toward him surrounded by his usual crew of sycophants. The boy was gifted—god-chosen, people whispered. His power? Immense, unnatural strength. He once lifted a war-beast during a demonstration, just to show off.
One of the rarest abilities. One of the most destructive.
But he used it for petty things.
Like tormenting Malric.
"Did you miss a spot, rat?" Zeke smirked, cracking his knuckles.
He casually punched a nearby stone pillar—not hard, just enough to make the thick column tremble and crack. The sound echoed across the corridor like a threat.
Malric stayed silent.
Zeke crouched beside him. "Still no Gift, huh? Not even a whiff of power?"
Malric didn't respond. Instead, he smiled.
It wasn't fake—it was the same smile he wore every time they mocked him. Calm, crooked, as if none of it touched him. As if he were numb to the cruelty. Or maybe… just too used to it.
Zeke's smile turned crueler. "You know, sometimes I wonder if you're even human."
The others laughed. One of them knocked over Malric's bucket with a careless kick. Water spilled across the floor.
"Oops," the boy said with a fake gasp. "Better clean that up, Pikachu."
Malric blinked. His smile didn't fade.
Zeke barked a laugh. "Right?! Doesn't he look like one? Always getting tossed around and never fighting back."
The laughter grew louder.
Another student flicked a peanut at his head. "Use Thunderbolt, cursed rat!"
Malric quietly picked up the bucket and began to wipe up the mess with his already soaked rag.
He kept smiling.
He always smiled.
Because if he didn't, he might cry. And if he cried, they'd win.
---
That night, Malric returned to his one-room shack tucked between two rusting towers. There was no storm. No lightning. Just silence and cracked walls.
He lay on his thin mattress, staring at the ceiling.
His hands were blistered. His knees raw. His back ached.
But still, he smiled.
The kind of smile that said: I'm still here.
And one day… they'll see.
The next day, Malric was cleaning behind the school near the garbage area, collecting trash with bare hands. His shirt clung to his back from the heat and sweat, his hair sticking to his forehead.
Then—thump!
A full trash bag hit the back of his head.
Students nearby burst into laughter as if it were part of a show.
"Direct hit!" one shouted.
Malric didn't flinch. He simply picked up the bag, wiped the mess from his face, and kept working.
Then, without warning, a heavy foot slammed down on his head, grinding his face into the dirt.
"Eyyy, Pikachu," came the all-too-familiar voice.
Zeke.
"How's your day?" he sneered.
Face in the ground, Malric gave the same crooked smile. "It's nice, sir."
The students howled.
Someone poured a bottle of water over Malric's head, soaking him. More laughter.
And then—
"HEY! STOP IT! What are you doing to him?!"
A girl's voice cut through the noise.
Everyone froze.
A girl with long black hair stormed into the crowd. She wore the school's elite uniform—silver-trimmed with a golden crest on her chest.
Hera.
She was stunning. Known across campus as one of the most powerful and most beautiful students. Gifted by the gods, beloved by the faculty, and admired by all.
But unlike Zeke, she wasn't arrogant. She was kind.
She marched up to Zeke and glared at him. "Get your foot off him."
Zeke scoffed but obeyed. Hera knelt down and helped Malric up.
"Are you okay?" she asked softly, brushing dirt from his hair. Her hands gently touched his face, checking for injuries. Malric's cheeks burned red.
"I… I'm fine," he whispered.
"No one should treat you like that."
For the first time in his life, someone stood up for him.
They walked together toward the garden benches. Students watched in silent confusion. Hera sat beside him.
"You always smile," she said. "Even when they hurt you."
Malric looked down. "If I don't smile… I'll cry."
She giggled. "Why? Should I be rude to you instead?"
He chuckled shyly. "Maybe you're the weird one."
They talked for a while, sharing small stories. She was warm and sincere—something he never experienced before. As the sun began to dip, Hera stood.
"It's my birthday tomorrow," she said suddenly. "Meet me at the rooftop. Midnight."
Malric blinked. "Why me?"
She just smiled mysteriously. "Because I want you to be the first to greet me. Don't be late."
Before he could say more, she waved and left.
---
That night, Malric couldn't stop thinking.
Why him? Why the rooftop? Was it real?
He put on the cleanest clothes he had—a simple collared shirt and black slacks. Nothing special, but enough to look decent.
At 11 PM, he left his shack, heart pounding with anxious excitement. He reached the rooftop by 11:30.
Hera was already there, gazing up at the stars.
"You're early," he said.
She turned to him with a smile. "I couldn't wait."
He stepped closer. "Why me, Hera?"
She looked at him, her eyes soft. "Does love need a reason?"
Malric's heart nearly stopped.
"I… I love you too," he confessed, trembling.
She stepped closer, and just as their fingers brushed—
CRACK!
A brutal punch to the stomach sent Malric flying back.
He coughed and hit the rooftop tiles hard.
Standing behind Hera—Zeke.
"Surprise, Pikachu."
Laughter echoed. One by one, Zeke's crew emerged from the shadows.
Malric clutched his stomach, stunned, not from the pain—but from the betrayal.
He looked up at Hera.
She was smiling.
But not kindly.
Cold. Cruel.
"You… you were lying?" Malric whispered.
Hera walked toward him slowly, her tone changing.
"Did you really think I would like someone like you?" she said with a sneer. "You're trash. A cursed one. I just wanted to break something weak."
Malric stared in disbelief. "But… why?"
"Because it's fun," she said coldly. "You should've died a long time ago."
Zeke approached, grabbed Malric by the collar, and lifted him like a ragdoll.
"No one would miss you," he said. "Every time I see your face, it ruins my day."
He walked him to the edge of the rooftop.
"Just disappear already."
And he threw him.
---
Malric plummeted.
The night blurred. The world spun.
Faces. Cruel words. Laughter. His own scream lost in the wind.
Why me?
Why was I born cursed?
Then—
Time stopped.
He was suspended in midair, frozen in the fall.
A soft blue glow appeared before his eyes. A screen. Digital. Alive.
> [SYSTEM ACTIVATED]
> [Congratulations, Malric Varnen. You have been chosen.]
> [You are the Heir of Zeus.]
Malric stared at it, numb.
"Heir… of Zeus?" he whispered.
What?.