Drakain Dynasty The Origins: Chapter 1: The Boy and the Universe
**Pandora** was the jewel of the universe, a planet **100 times the size of Earth**, ruled by the might of magic and the iron fist of the **50 Arch mages**. Its surface was a mosaic of **50 continents**. Pandorian citizens had different skin tones depending on the climate they inhabited, but they all shared two universal magical traits: **eyes that shimmered with the color of their core** and **dreadlocks** whose color matched their inherent magical affinity—Green for Earth, Blue for Water, Red for Fire, Yellow for Air, White for Light, and Black for Dark Magic. At the planet's heart lay five colossal landmasses, spread out in the sacred shape of a five-point star, surrounding an ocean twice the size of Earth. The Heart of Pandora. A **colossal whirling mana pool filled with unlimited untouched magical potential. With Tier 5 currents far too strong to ever be explored.**
The 50 continents were **ruled by 50 Arkmages** who kept their distance from society, acting only when the planet's collective will—the Monoflow—compelled them.
To be a citizen of Pandora was to live at the pinnacle of cosmic civilization, but for the boy named **Marcellus**, it was a prison. He was born a genius, a prodigy of dark magic whose talents were a constant mockery of his meager beginnings. He was not born into one of the central power structures.
His origins were steeped in a dark legacy of violence. His mother, **Elizabeth**, a mage still in training, was only **thirteen years old** when she discovered she was pregnant during a class exercise.
The class was practicing the **Tier 1 Light Magic** spell known as the **Ultrasound**. Their instructor, **Instructor Atkins**, a blue-haired, blue-eyed Water mage, had assigned each student a pregnant frog, instructing them to safely check the status of the frog and confirm its pregnancy. Elizabeth focused her light magic, projecting the ghostly image of her frog's internal organs onto the wall. A small cluster of eggs was clearly visible, confirming the frog's pregnancy.
But the projection didn't stop there. The class, including Instructor Atkins, watched in stunned silence as the light magic pierced Elizabeth, showing her own internal structure. The students gasped and pointed as two distinct heartbeats appeared on the projection: one was her own, but the other, smaller one was unmistakable—a fetus.
Worst of all, Instructor Atkins, along with several of the students, noticed a crucial detail: the spectral image showed not two, but **three distinct heartbeats**. Her frog, herself, and the baby growing inside her.
The instructor was awestruck and sad for the poor girl, yet deeply uncomfortable. A few of the children were laughing, but most were simply pointing. Elizabeth, consumed by shame and panic, stared at the ghostly image of a fetus, recognized the perfect, mocking mirror of her own father's face, and burst into tears. She grabbed her bag and her frog and ran herself home in embarrassment, crying until she fell asleep.
Later that evening, her father knocked on her door. Elizabeth woke, the memories of the day's humiliation at school flooding back as she met the cold, predatory look in his eyes. Knowing what awaited her, she followed him to his study. She resisted, but he only smiled, his voice chillingly calm: **"Are you going to make this fun for me?"**
The sheer, overwhelming **rage** inside her, the culmination of years of abuse and the day's public shame, triggered a devastating surge of power. She instantly conjured a **push spell**, a blast of raw, chaotic dark energy that slammed into his chest. Strong as he was, her burgeoning dark core was stronger; the force hurled him back against his bookshelf.
He looked to his left, noticing the missing tomes, and the realization hit him: she had been secretly studying dark magic. As he turned back, attempting to conjure a defense, she was faster.
As she raised her hands, a six-inch-long dagger of pure **dark magic** coalesced in the air. Her newly forming dreadlocks felt like **cold, heavy iron** against her scalp, mirroring the weight of the shadow she conjured. She shoves her hands forward, and the dark dagger went straight into his neck. Elizabeth swiped her hand left and then swung her hand right, and the dagger sliced his throat. He fell dead, and **Elizabeth stood in the puddle of his blood for five long minutes.**
Elizabeth carried this shame and violence, and every time she looked at her son, she saw the man she'd killed. She named him **Marcellus**—the name of her dead father—specifically to torture him. She whispered hateful things into his ear. The torment lasted until the day she turned **seventeen**; at that point, Marcellus was only **four years old**. She left the little boy in an orphanage, never to see him again. The last thing Marcellus remembered was the chilling sight of her **dense, black dreadlocks** disappearing around the orphanage door, a final, dark curtain falling on his infancy.
Discarded and alone, Marcellus poured every ounce of his prodigious focus into his studies of the **dark magic** she had exposed him to. The path to becoming an archmage was long, but Marcellus, a genius, shattered every milestone. At just **nine years old**, he demonstrated a proficiency that terrified his instructors: he successfully executed a **Tier 3 Dark Magic** spell, conjuring fully functional, terrifying **Shadow Wings** that billowed behind him, lifting him effortlessly into the air.
He graduated at **fifteen**, becoming the youngest journeyman in history. At **sixteen**, he achieved another impossible feat, becoming the youngest astronaut ever. For him, the vast, empty void of space wasn't a frontier—it was the ultimate freedom. He chose the Rangers because he would not be a **slave to the planet** like the archmages, bowing to the whims of the Monoflow.
His first assignment came from his seniors at the Rangers, Pandora's exclusive fleet of spacefaring mages. He was to venture into a forgotten galaxy on the edge of the universe. As his captain, **John Smoke**, a grizzled veteran whose Red dreadlocks were streaked with gray, handed him his assignment, he could see the defiant smirk on the boy's face.
John Smoke sighed, crossing his arms. "Look, prodigy. Even a Level One galaxy can eat an arrogant kid for lunch. Stay vigilant. You're gifted, not invincible. Now go get famous."
Marcellus gave him a quick, dismissive wink and climbed into his space capsule. The interior felt strangely muted as he prepared the engines. Suddenly, two massive **Shadow Arms** erupted from his back, their forms solid and coal-black, and quickly manipulated the control panels. They started the shuttle up **in a jiffy**. The multi-colored lights of Pandorian civilization receded, replaced by the profound, inviting **blackness** of the void. He flew toward the forgotten galaxy, toward the edge of the known univer
se, and straight toward his destiny.