5 Years Later...
Silence blanketed the grand chambers of the Godsbane Estate, broken only by the faint hum of floating mana-lamps embedded in the ceiling—crystals glowing with soft blue light.
The room was magnificent, crafted from black obsidian polished to a mirror sheen, golden lines of mana circuitry running across the walls like veins of molten sunlight.
Silken curtains embroidered with crimson ravens swayed gently, moved by the warm breath of mechanical wind-spirits.
The bed at the center was vast—carved from celestial whitewood and wrapped in sheets woven from spirit-silk—yet tonight...
it was anything but peaceful.
"Huff… Huff… Huff…"
A boy shot upright, gasping desperately for breath.
His chest rose and fell violently, sweat trickling down his pale neck and soaking the blankets beneath him. Strands of silver hair longer and sharper—clung to his face.
His eyes, once soft and innocent crimson, now burned with a terrifying blood-red glow, trembling like flames struggling against the wind.
His hands were shaking.
His whole body shivering in what fantom pain and fear.
For a long moment, he could only stare blankly into the darkness of the room.
And then —
"Haah…"
A heavy breath escaped his lips as he ran a trembling hand through his damp hair.
"A nightmare…? Just a nightmare…"
He whispered to himself.... forcing a weak smile onto his lips.
Nothing had happened. Slowly, he tried to calm himself by breathing in and out for a few minutes.... Calming his racing heart.
And then.... Silence settled around him once again.
He lowered his head, silver strands falling across his eyes like a curtain. His voice trembled as he muttered—
"It felt so real…"
But he didn't remember anything from nightmare....
The boy who was once a cute, round-faced five-year-old boy... had vanished.
And what remained was a nine-year-old boy, features growing sharp and cold—already too mature for his age.
Dark circles stained the skin beneath his eyes, telling the story of years without peaceful sleep. The joy that once filled his eyes was gone, replaced by something burdened and hollow.
He had seen the dark side of the Godsbanes.
This boy was—
** Raven Godsbane **
The youngest son of Duke Azrael Godsbane, Grandson of Ragnar Godsbane, the War Titan.
★ RAVEN'S POV :
After calming my nerves, I pushed my blanket aside and stood up, walking slowly toward the mirror.
My reflection revealed a body wrapped almost entirely in bandages. Only my face remained bare and devoid of injuries. My arms were bound in black bandages, and the rest of my body in white.
Memories of past few years started rolling in front of my eyes like a K-drama.
I remembered the day everything changed—
When one day Grandfather left to conquer a Legendary Rank Tower at the borders of Veyros as per the order of Emperor.
The moment he left, the entire family's behavior towards me flipped.
My brothers' teasing soon turned into bullying, and within six months it escalated into daily beatings so brutal I was left bruised, broken, and barely breathing.
Back then, I told myself that they maybe were jealous because Grandfather favored me.
But time made one thing painfully clear:
They were doing it intentionally not out of innocent mistakes of jealousy but something else.... Which I still don't know.
" Argue... Anyways! "
I didn't hate them. If they disliked me, I could have simply avoided them. Right... RIGHT!!??
But no—they never left me alone.
And the worst part?
None of the adults helped.
Not the maids.
Nor the butler.
Nor my stepmothers.
That's why I hated them more than my siblings.
Why??
'Cuz books taught me that adults were supposed to be mature and responsible.
"Well I was a child and since no one was teaching me... I learned from fairy tales grandpa read to me once"
As yes.... As you might have guessed.
Reality proved otherwise.
I wasn't a genius like my brothers. Honestly, I was an idiot ( maybe still I'm) with no talent for strategy or whatever noble nonsense they bragged about. But even I understood one thing after a year of beatings:
Without Grandfather...
I was completely alone. Just a tool for them to vent their stress, frustration, and anger.
Even now, remembering those times made my blood boil. My red eyes glowed darker as anger surged—but I forced a sigh.
"I've learned to keep my emotions in check… at least a little"
My anger wasn't truly about the beatings. No.
It was something else—something that happened when I was seven.
"That's when I got this damn curse."
My voice trembled with bitter laughter.
"My whole body became brittle as glass… and the beatings became too painful to endure."
Yes. I was cursed.
Not with some common curse.No...
It was SomethingAncient, something cruel. Something that turned my existence into living hell.
My bandages were not for healing wounds...
They were for keeping my body in shape and together.
Without them, my bones would crack under their own weight, and I would collapse into a pile of living flesh.
I let out a dry laugh.
"Hahaha… I still remember lying like that for a whole day after my twin siblings beat me unconscious one day.... The maids found me, reattached everything, and healed me just enough to survive… so I could suffer again the next day."
But after a few months, something changed.
My body slowly started adapting as the natural mana gathering inside me since birth began to circulate more strongly with age.
And then I found that fairytale book I used to love.
I hate it now.
After everything, it felt like a mockery. Just childish fantasy.
But one line spoken by a nameless extra in it stuck with me. He was a martial artist with no mana:
"Bones and muscles grow stronger after they break and heal. Do it enough times, and one day you might punch through a stone wall."
A stupid teaching, right?
But who was going to tell this to a seven-year-old child who was drowning in pain that... it was dumb advice?
So yeah. I believed it like an idiot—and started training.
Since my siblings were already breaking my bones anyway, half the work was done. The maids healed me enough to keep me alive, afterall heirs can't be allowed to die carelessly.
But instead of sitting and taking the beatings... I began training myself.
Especially, my hands and legs.
Why?
So that I could fight back one day.
So that I could repay them for every strike.
And I started breaking them myself.... As a training lol!!
Again and again.
The pain was unbearable—sometimes strong enough to knock me unconscious.
But after six months, when I turned eight, something changed.
Not in my bones—they were still brittle, though slightly stronger.
But in my mind...
" I became numb to pain "
It was expected, maybe... But I was lucky to gain that numbness so early.
From then on, I trained harder.
Broke bones every hour.
Healed them using potions.
By the time I turned nine, my hands and legs were as strong as a normal person's at last.
That's when I started using these black bandages—rune-inscribed artifacts I commissioned from a low-tier Runemaster.
I asked him to create runes that would continuously break my bones and heal them 3 seconds later.
Even now, under these bandages, my bones and muscles are snapping, breaking and reconnecting without a pause.
So.... You guys wondering how I'm standing?
Well... The runes keep the bandages hard and shaped like limbs and serve as a vessel holding my limbs together.
Whenever I eat or move freely, I just stop the breaking cycle.... So they heal up quickly in minutes.
"Hmm…okay....Enough of remembering the bad past."
I glanced toward the window. The sun was rising, bathing the room in golden light.
"Time for a run..... And after that…"
A rare spark of excitement flickered inside me.
"I have to visit the Ancestral Hall for my Awakening."
Finally!!
Something was going to change in this ruined life of mine...