In the era of swords and magic, steel rang against steel and spells flowed like rivers through the world. Magic was not merely a tool—it was law, culture, and power itself. Though the age of science and machinery had begun to stir, it remained buried beneath the overwhelming presence of sorcery.
The creation of the train was hailed as a miracle of progress. Iron wheels screaming against rails, engines breathing smoke like mechanical beasts—it was proof that mortals could imitate gods without spells. Yet even then, magic overshadowed it completely. Enchanted transport circles moved nobles instantly across nations. Mage-forged ships crossed oceans without wind. Against such wonders, science was still fragile, crawling forward on uncertain legs.
Among the many nations that ruled the continent, one stood firm and feared—the Kingdom of Arcane.
Arcane was known for its powerful knights, its disciplined nobility, and its deep-rooted magical institutions. Its banners flew high over conquered borders, and its name alone carried weight in diplomatic halls. Within this kingdom, countless noble houses served the crown.
But few carried the same authority as House Andreas.
House Andreas was a powerful noble house that ruled over a vast and prosperous territory. Its lands were fertile, its defenses formidable, and its military strength unquestioned. The Andreas estate stood elevated above surrounding settlements, its stone walls old yet unyielding—like the house itself.
At its head was Lord Andrea Andreas, an earl in his early fifties.
He was a man of commanding presence. His posture remained straight despite age, his movements controlled and deliberate. His attire was always elegant—dark noble fabrics reinforced subtly for combat, bearing the sigil of his house. His physique, maintained through years of discipline, reflected both strength and restraint. To his subordinates, he was respected. To his enemies, feared.
He ruled not through cruelty, but through authority.
At his side was Lady Andrea, his wife—a beautiful brunette from a noble house known for discipline and strict tradition. Her elegance masked a firm will, and her expectations were no less severe than her husband's. Together, they had five children.
Each one a pillar—or a crack—within the house.
The first was Adnos Andreas.
At twenty-two years of age, Adnos was the embodiment of physical dominance. Broad-shouldered and tall, his body was sculpted through relentless training. He was an expert swordsman, feared among peers and respected by veteran knights. Though eligible, he had not joined the knightly order, believing instead that the family heirloom—an ancient weapon passed down through House Andreas—would serve him better than any formal title.
Adnos believed strength was absolute. And he believed the house should belong to him.
The second was Beth Andreas, the first daughter.
Fearless and ambitious, Beth joined the Holy Knights immediately after turning twenty. She possessed unwavering discipline and a sharp sense of duty. Her devotion to the knightly order placed her loyalty beyond family politics, though her presence alone was enough to silence rooms. She was respected by her father, admired by knights, and distant from her siblings.
Then came the third child.
Seth Andreas.
Eighteen years old.
Calm in nature, reserved in speech, and unreadable in expression. Seth was neither loud nor imposing, yet something about him unsettled those who watched closely. Unlike his siblings, he did not seek attention, praise, or recognition.
What made Seth dangerous was not strength—though he possessed it.
It was potential.
By the age of fifteen, Seth had mastered swordsmanship to a degree that shocked private instructors. He possessed a photographic memory, allowing him to recall texts, formations, and mechanisms with flawless accuracy. Unbeknownst to most, he had secretly studied the laws of magical systems, the biological structures of beasts and races, science and early technology, engineering, and alchemy.
He learned without being seen.
Seth had also taken up craftsmanship in secret. With no one noticing, he forged tools, weapons, and experimental mechanisms. Beyond the borders of House Andreas' territory, hidden within an isolated mountain region, Seth had discovered a cave—natural, deep, and unreachable to all but himself.
There, he built a secret base.
A place for research, experimentation, forging, and engineering. A place where he sought breakthroughs not bound by tradition or magic alone. He nurtured his body relentlessly, refining every sense until his perception surpassed normal human limits. He mastered every weapon he encountered, and even created his own martial arts, adapting them through trial and error.
He also possessed a peculiar habit.
An obsession with gold.
Seth collected valuables obsessively—artifacts, coins, relics, and items seized from bandits he silently eliminated. He stored them within the cave, cataloging each piece with meticulous care. It was not greed.
It was instinct.
The fourth child was Dave Andreas, sixteen years old.
Unlike Adnos, Dave lacked physical strength. But his mind was sharp—keen for politics, manipulation, and strategy. He observed constantly, spoke carefully, and measured every interaction. Where Adnos relied on brute force, Dave relied on calculation.
And finally—
Sly Andreas, the youngest and second daughter.
Only ten years old, she admired her siblings endlessly. Innocent and unaware of the storm brewing within her family, she watched from the shadows, absorbing more than anyone realized.
In House Andreas, titles and favor did not fall to the chosen.
They belonged to those who proved themselves.
Seth, though subconsciously fitting every requirement, showed no interest in the family heirloom, no ambition for succession. He remained indifferent, detached.
And that terrified his brothers.
To Adnos and Dave, Seth was not harmless.
He was a threat.
Their jealousy grew quietly, festering, until the day came when both crossed paths alone.
Dave spoke first.
"Brother," he said calmly, "I propose we set our differences aside and work together—against a common rival."
Adnos narrowed his eyes. "I like the way your way of thinking," he replied. "Seth may pretend disinterest, but I don't believe for a second that he's given up on the title."
Dave nodded. "Exactly. What do you say? Just this once. Then we go back to tearing each other."
A pause.
Then Adnos extended his hand. "Alright. Just this once."
They shook hands.
The plan was simple.
They would frame Seth.
And they would use his fiancée as bait.
Selena Balor was a beautiful blonde-haired girl from House Balor, a family allied with House Andreas. She was the same age as Seth, raised in noble discipline, educated in etiquette, politics, and the expectations of a future wife.
Neither Seth nor Selena had affection for one another.
Selena despised Seth's nonchalant attitude and indifference. Seth disliked her arrogance and pride. Whenever they spoke, disagreements followed—arguments sharp enough that servants learned to keep distance.
One evening, Selena visited House Andreas.
A formal arrangement was made: the two would take a stroll through the open market to discuss their engagement, escorted by Sir Dent, a knight of House Balor.
Night fell.
As they walked through the illuminated streets, their discussion spiraled into a heated argument. Voices rose. Passersby glanced their way.
To avoid public embarrassment, they turned toward the valley path.
Then—
Darkness in forms of illusion clouded his sight, which was followed by sounds.
Pain erupted beneath Seth's ribs.
He looked down.
Blood.
His body moved on instinct.
He disarmed the attacker, pulled him closer, stabbed his arm, bicep, and slashed his ribs in a fluid counterattack. His movements were precise, lethal, automatic.
Then his vision cleared.
Sir Dent lay on the ground, gravely wounded.
Selena screamed, clutching her right eye, blood pouring between her fingers.
Seth froze.
Confusion overwhelmed him.
Guards poured in, spears and swords raised toward Seth. Selena and Sir Dent were escorted away.
Seth tried to explain.
He was restrained.
Brought in for questioning.
The next day, Lord Andrea and Lady Andrea confronted him. Seth told them everything—exactly as he remembered it.
Lady Andrea could not tolerate it.
She knew Seth's ruthlessness.
Lord Andrea was furious—not only at Seth, but at the situation. If unresolved, it could lead to war between the houses.
Days later, a meeting was arrange
The great hall of House Andreas had never felt so suffocating.
Stone pillars lined the chamber like silent judges, their shadows stretching across the polished floor as torchlight flickered uneasily. The air was thick—not with smoke, but with restrained hostility. Every breath felt measured, every movement observed.
At the head of the hall sat Lord Andrea Andreas, his posture rigid, hands folded calmly atop the armrests of his chair. Beside him, Lady Andrea sat stiffly, her fingers clenched together so tightly her knuckles had gone pale. She had not slept well since the incident. None of them had.
Opposite them sat Lord Balor and Lady Balor.
Lord Balor's expression was stern but controlled, his jaw tight as if constantly restraining words that threatened to spill. Lady Balor, however, made no such effort. Her eyes burned with fury, red-rimmed from nights of grief and rage. She sat forward in her seat, as though ready to leap across the hall at any moment.
Behind both noble couples stood their knights.
The knights of House Balor rested their hands near their hilts, eyes never leaving the center of the room. The knights of House Andreas mirrored them, though their stances were more disciplined—less emotional, more prepared.
Between them all, at the very center of the hall, stood Seth Andreas.
He had been ordered to kneel.
One knee rested against the cold stone floor, his head lowered—not in submission, but in acknowledgment of the gravity of the moment. His hands were steady at his sides. His breathing controlled.
Yet inside, his thoughts churned.
This isn't right.
Lord Andrea spoke first, his voice measured and heavy.
"This meeting is called to resolve a grave incident between our houses," he said. "We are bound by alliance, history, and mutual trust. What happened must be addressed before it festers into something irreversible."
Lady Balor let out a sharp, bitter laugh.
"Trust?" she spat. "My daughter was mutilated under your roof."
Lady Andrea flinched.
Lord Balor raised a hand. "Enough," he said quietly. "Let the boy speak."
Lord Andrea nodded once.
"Seth," he said. "Explain. Clearly. Fully."
Seth lifted his head.
His eyes met the Balors'—not defiantly, not pleadingly, but honestly.
"I did not attack Selena Balor," he said. His voice was calm, but firm. "I was stabbed from behind. I reacted on instinct. When my vision cleared, Sir Dent was wounded, and Selena was injured. I swear on my life, I did not strike her."
Lady Balor slammed her hand onto the armrest.
"Lies!" she screamed. "You expect us to believe this nonsense? That my daughter blinded herself while you conveniently survived?"
Seth did not raise his voice.
"I understand your anger," he said. "If our roles were reversed, I would feel the same. But the truth does not change because it is inconvenient."
That was a mistake.
Lady Balor surged to her feet. "You dare lecture me on truth?" she shrieked. "You stand there unpunished while my daughter screams in her sleep, clutching her face, afraid of she'll be viewed upon having one eye!"
Knights shifted.
Lord Balor stood as well, placing a firm hand on his wife's arm. "Enough," he said, voice strained. "This is not helping."
Lord Andrea leaned forward slightly. "Lady Balor," he said, "House Andreas does not deny responsibility for the incident occurring under our protection. We are prepared to offer reparations—financial compensation, magical treatment, and formal apology."
"Gold will not restore her eye," Lady Balor hissed.
"We have healers—"
"Healers can bring back her sight," Lady Balor interrupted.
The hall fell silent.
Lady Andrea pressed a hand to her mouth.
Lord Andrea exhaled slowly. "Then tell me," he said, "what will satisfy you. What will prevent this from turning into bloodshed between our houses."
Lady Balor's gaze snapped back to Seth.
"I cannot allow the one who harmed my daughter to walk free," she said coldly. "Justice must be equal."
Lord Balor's face darkened. He knew where this was going.
"An eye for an eye," Lady Balor continued.
The words fell like a blade.
Lady Andrea gasped. "No—!" Vexed as she speaks, "I'll never align with your selfish request to unfold, not when I'm alive!"
Lord Andrea's hands tightened on the armrests.
"That is barbaric," he said quietly. "And excessive."
"Is it?" Lady Balor replied. "Your son still has both his eyes. My daughter does not."
Seth felt something shift inside him—not fear, but clarity.
They've already decided.
Lord Balor hesitated, then slowly turned to Lord Andrea. His eyes carried apology.
"It may be the only way to resolve this conflict," he said softly. "And preserve peace."
Silence.
Long. Crushing. Final.
Lord Andrea closed his eyes.
When he opened them, something had hardened.
"…Very well," he said.
Lady Andrea screamed his name, she wasn't going to accept such absurd decision upon her child. But Adnos held her down.
Before anyone could say another word, Lady Balor moved.
She snatched a dagger from the knight beside her.
It was black, its edges glowing red, chaos radiating from its surface like heat.
"WAIT—!"
Too late.
She lunged.
The blade tore across Seth's face.
The cut was deep, heavy and rough.
Once.
Twice.
Pain exploded.
Not just pain—burning. Something deeper. Something wrong.
Seth screamed as darkness consumed him entirely.
Lady Andrea collapsed, crawling toward him in tears, as guards finally reacted, restraining Lady Balor.
Seth clutched his face, blood streaming between his fingers as he groaned, his body trembling uncontrollably.
Adnos and Dave stood frozen.
Neither felt triumph.
Only dread.
Guards rushed in to carry Seth to the medical hall.
From the shadows, Sly pressed herself against the wall, tears silently streaming down her face.
Lord Andrea rose slowly to his feet, fury radiating from him as he locked eyes with Lord Balor.
The alliance had survived.
But something far more important had been destroyed.