Time is a river that flows endlessly forward, never looking back. Those who walk the path of time are like leaves upon its surface—carried, drifting, and reshaped by its current.
The world is known as Orryianthos, a realm composed of four great continents positioned toward the poles of the world, and a single, smaller continent lying at its very center.
The Northern Continent, called Azelikan, is a vast land inhabited primarily by dark-skinned people. Its fertile soil makes it rich in agriculture, and beneath its land lie abundant natural resources—gold, iron, sulphur, and ruby.
The Western Continent, known as Caelithe, is a rugged expanse dominated by towering mountains and quiet, slow-paced villages. Though peaceful in its relations with other continents, it is a powerhouse of labyrinths and dungeons. Its primary economic resource is mana stones, earning it the title of the Land of Adventurers.
The Southern Continent, called Beld, is renowned as the birthplace of magical technology. It maintains extensive trade with the other continents and is home to the most skilled magic technicians in the world. For this reason, it is widely known as the Magitech Continent.
At the heart of the world lies the Central Continent of Ilerath—an uncharted and forbidden land. None who venture into it ever return, no matter how well prepared they are. Sailors whisper of strange, unnatural creatures sighted along its shores through telescopes, and thus, no continent maintains contact with Ilerath.
On the Western Continent, within a small farming village called Sundervale, rolling green plains stretch as far as the eye can see. At the edge of the village stood a lone town hall house. There, a boy barely four feet tall, with whitish-silver hair falling to his shoulders, trained relentlessly.
Opposite him stood his instructor—a towering man in his late thirties, possessing a Herculean build, spiky coffee-brown hair, and standing at an imposing six feet three inches tall. His presence alone commanded strength and discipline.
"Form up!!" the older man barked.
At once, the young boy assumed a chūdan-no-kamae stance, his posture steady and disciplined.
"Nice form. You've improved a great deal over the years," the man said approvingly as he walked toward him with a smile. Without warning, he lunged in a sudden surprise attack.
The boy reacted instantly. He parried the strike cleanly, flicked the wooden sword from the man's grasp, and in the same motion brought his own blade up—its tip stopping just short of the man's throat.
"Nicely done, Marco," the man praised, raising both hands in surrender.
Marco smiled, lowering his sword while still holding it firmly.
"That wouldn't be possible without your teaching," he said warmly. Placing his left hand behind his back, he bowed his head in respect.
"Thank you, Uncle Raphael," he added, sincerity clear in his tone.
"You flatter me too much, young master," Raphael replied with a modest bow.
Marco giggled softly, a bright smile on his face.
"When are the others returning?" Marco asked as they walked toward a bench beneath a garden shed. Marco sat down while Raphael remained standing.
"They should be here any time now," Raphael answered.
"Raphael!!" a sharp feminine voice called out.
Raphael jolted as if struck by lightning. He turned slowly to see an angry woman striding toward him, an apron tied over her dress. Behind her, she tugged along a little girl of about six, her dark brown hair bouncing with each step. They quickly closed the distance.
"Susan, dear… what seems to be the matter?" Raphael asked nervously.
"What exactly have you been teaching Daniella?" Susan demanded, a mother's fury blazing in her voice.
"Uh… I—I don't know what you're talking about," Raphael stammered, swallowing hard between words.
Nearby, Marco pretended not to exist at all, gazing off into the distance looking around away from them minding his own business.
"About why adults lose their hair… and how thinking too hard makes it run away?" Susan said flatly as she rolled up her sleeves.
She seized Raphael by the collar and began smacking him repeatedly.
"Teaching nonsense to a child—do you have a death wish?!"
Daniella, brimming with curiosity, merely sucked her thumb and looked over at Marco, who was doing his absolute best to erase his presence from existence.
"Mommy," she said innocently, still sucking her thumb, "Big bro Marco said that's why your fore head is so clear."
She pointed straight at Marco.
Susan's movements stopped. Slowly, her gaze shifted, her eyes glinted.
Marco jolted and instinctively turned to run—but he barely took a step before magic flashed beneath his feet, "Grave frost." She said freezing him in place mid-stride.
"W-wait—!" he yelped.
Susan released Raphael, grabbed Marco by the ear, dispelled the spell, and immediately began dragging him toward the house.
"Uncle Raphael, save me!" Marco screamed, stretching one arm back desperately.
Raphael, slumped against the wall with a swollen eye and tears streaming down his face, raised his head weakly.
"I will pray for you…" he said solemnly, forcing a smile. "I wish you good luck."
Then he lifted a trembling thumb.
"You are a strong boy. Hold out in there."
Marco's face went utterly blank as the door slammed shut behind him.
All Raphael could hear afterward were screams, shrieks, and the unmistakable sound of justice being delivered.
By evening, four men walked into the compound of the hall house. Behind them trailed a cart laden with the day's hunting harvest.
"Marco, what have you been doing all day?" one of the men asked when he spotted the boy. Marco was locked in a punishment stance—kneeling, with heavy weights suspended from his arms.
"Raphael?" the man called again when he noticed Raphael nearby, splitting a large heap of logs into firewood.
"There's only one person capable of this," the second man muttered.
The others nodded in agreement.
"Susan," they all said in unison.
"Why are you all only arriving at this hour?" Susan's voice suddenly came from behind them.
They all flinched.
"U-um… Susan… we were, uh…" they stammered together, desperately searching for a believable excuse.
"We were looking for a present for Marco's birthday," the first man blurted out.
Just then, Daniella stepped out of the house and spotted them.
"It's Uncle Ravon, Eryndal, Morvak, and big brother Zerun!" she cried happily.
She ran toward them, hugging each one in turn. Zerun laughed and lifted her onto his shoulders, carrying her with ease as she giggled.
Ravon is known as the Lightning God, Marco thought. One of the Twelve Shadow Demons—and the leader of the Shadows.
Please, Uncle Ravon… help me out here, Marco pleaded through telepathy.
Oi… what did you do to end up like this? Ravon's voice replied calmly within his mind.
Daniella's curiosity—and our stupid answers—got us into this mess, Marco admitted.
So it was your fault, Ravon said flatly.
Yes, Marco answered without hesitation.
Alright. I'll see what I can do, Ravon replied.
Ravon cleared his throat, severed the telepathic link, and turned to Susan.
"Susan," he said carefully, "I'd like to plead on their behalf."
Susan turned her sharp gaze toward Marco. He could almost feel another smack landing on his head.
"Big Brother Ravon," she said, folding her arms like a sulking child, "I'm not letting them off."
"Come on," Ravon coaxed gently, pulling her closer and draping an arm around her shoulders. "They admitted their mistakes, and you've punished them enough already. Hmm? Forgive them."
Susan puffed out her cheeks, pouting openly.
"…Alright, Big Brother," she said at last. "I'll let them go—on one condition."
Ravon's smile tightened. "And what would that be?"
"They will listen to me for an entire week."
Marco's eyes widened,
Raphael froze mid-swing.
Everyone present—except Daniella and Susan—felt a chill run down their spine as they imagined what one full week of obeying Susan would entail.
"okay… they will be fine with that." Ravon said.
"No… I don't—"
"I don't think you're in any position to negotiate," Susan cut in sharply, her glare locking onto Raphael as he tried to object.
"So they agree, right?" Ravon said calmly.
One by one, they nodded.
"Good. Then they're free to go," Susan said and the weights were removed, and the punishment ended.
"Uncle Ravon, Eryndal, Zerun, Morvak!" Marco called out as he ran forward and threw his arms around Ravon.
"Thank you," he said earnestly.
They all laughed.
This has been my life ever since I was old enough to see things clearly, Marco thought.
No one has ever told me anything about my parents, for eight years, I've trained without rest.
He clenched his fist, his eyes shining with quiet pride and every bit of that training has paid off.
"Marco, I told you not to let your hair color show!" Ravon's voice cut through the air, sharp and commanding. Marco's eyes widened in panic. He raised his left hand, summoning his magic.
"Water, Serenade!" he called, and in an instant, a crystal-clear pane of water rippled into existence before him, hovering like liquid glass.
"Winds of Purity!" he added, and the water froze mid-air, forming a perfect pane of ice that shimmered like a mirror under the fading sunlight. Marco's reflection stared back at him—his whitish-silver hair glowing softly, almost ethereal, catching every flicker of light.
"Oh no!!" he gasped, closing his eyes and taking a deep, steadying breath.
"Moon Void Illusion!" he whispered, and golden threads of magic flowed from his fingertips. His hair shifted from silver to a radiant gold, catching the light with a warm, almost celestial glow. His eyes deepened into maroon, sparkling like molten garnet, masking his original colors completely. The floating ice pane shimmered and refracted the light, making it seem as if the mirror itself was alive, twisting and bending around his new form.
"I thought Ureth taught you well enough to check your hair before leaving your room," Ravon said, as he shook his head.
"Marco has always been like this. I hope he remembers more often in the future," a soft, principled female voice said as she approached. She wore a maid's outfit, and with precise movements, adjusted her glasses before stopping in front of Marco.
This is Ureth, Marco thought. She is the master of illusions; her technique is called Moon Void. She is also one of the Twelve Shadows.
Susan walked toward Marco and smacked his head.
"Ouch!!" Marco shrieked, recoiling from the pain.
"What have I done?" he asked, confused.
"I told you—magic is not for show. Don't abuse Grave Frost magic," Susan scolded, and Marco dispelled the spell immediately.
Susan is known as Grave Frost, Marco thought. She is one of the Twelve Shadow Demons, and the mother of Daniella.
"Cut him some slack," Raphael said, trying to calm the situation. "This rarely happens."
Raphael is known as Umbra Wind, Marco reflected. He may seem gentle, but there's a twisted edge to him. He's Hermes' favorite and the guardian of me. Daniella is his and Susan's daughter.
"Boys his age still struggle to tell right from wrong, but he's a prodigy," Eryndal said, stomping his foot. A tree root sprang from the ground, forming a chair, and he sat upon it effortlessly.
Eryndal is a Sage of the Forest, Marco thought. He uses forest spirits to manipulate trees and plants.
"The same way you're struggling," Susan remarked, raising an eyebrow as Marco had summoned a chair with his magic.
He cleared his throat, looking away while whistling awkwardly.
"Well, he is a boy… we tend to be careless about our appearances," Zerun said, chuckling softly.
Zerun is known as Earth's Obsidian, Marco thought. He wields earth magic to shape and create. He is the backbone of the entire Shadow Demons.
"I mean, he has to use it one way or another. As long as he uses it for good, that's fine," Morvak added.
A hush fell over the group—Morvak rarely praised anyone, yet here he was, speaking in Marco's defense.
"Thank you, Uncle Morvak," Marco said, hope glimmering in his eyes. He felt like he might cry.
Morvak is a silent soul, Marco thought. No one truly knows what goes on in his mind. His magic can create voids and portals, and his powers remain hidden from the outside world. He is known as VOID.
"Well, for now, let's go inside and enjoy a nice dinner," Raphael suggested with a smile, his stomach growling audibly.
Everyone paused and laughed at the sound.
"Alright, let's celebrate with the hunting harvest!" Susan declared, and they all talked and laughed as they walked toward the hall house.
"Marco," Eryndal called, catching his attention. He pulled Marco close and whispered, "Happy birthday to you."
He handed Marco a small dove pendant carved from wood.
"A wooden pendant?" Marco asked, studying it.
This is lovely… did he use his magic to make it? he wondered.
"I made it with my hands," Eryndal said quietly. "Don't be disappointed if it isn't perfect."
"What?" Marco asked, surprised. "You sculpted this?"
"Yes… I'm sorry I'm not skilled enough," Eryndal replied humbly.
"No… no way. This is perfect," Marco said, excitement lighting up his face.
"I thought you had made it with magic," he admitted, still examining the fine details.
"Thank you, Uncle Eryndal. I'll cherish it," Marco said with a bright smile. Eryndal patted him gently on the head, and together they walked into the house.