The full moon hung silently in the night sky, glowing with a beauty that felt almost unnatural. The air was calm… too calm. It was the kind of silence that usually arrived just before a devastating storm.
And then, reality fractured.
The moon dissolved into swirling shadows as a grand royal chamber emerged from the darkness. Golden chandeliers flickered with soft light. Silk curtains swayed gently beside tall marble windows, carrying the faint scent of sandalwood incense through the air.
On a luxurious royal bed lay a woman with flowing white hair. Her face was pale, yet radiated gentle warmth. She cradled a newborn child beside her, her trembling fingers brushing lovingly across his forehead.
Their faces remained blurred… like a memory struggling to survive.
The chamber doors burst open.
Dark figures stormed inside. Their presence felt unnatural — otherworldly. Their eyes glowed with chilling cruelty.
Battle erupted instantly.
Steel clashed. Mana exploded. Screams tore through the chamber as flames devoured silk and marble alike.
Chaos swallowed everything.
The child began crying in pain. The white-haired woman pulled him closer, whispering something softly into his ear — words that never reached the world.
A massive sword drove through her chest.
Blood spilled across the royal sheets, staining them crimson.
The attacker stood tall, smiling cruelly. A deep scar stretched across his forehead, twisting his face into something grotesque… something monstrous.
The woman's body collapsed.
Flames consumed the palace.
Darkness shattered the world.
***** Dream ended *****
Aaryan Varma jolted upright.
His chest rose and fell violently as sweat drenched his small body. His trembling hands pressed against the dusty floor while his eyes darted around the room.
The same dream.
Again.
He wiped his face, struggling to steady his breathing. He was only seven years old, yet exhaustion weighed heavily behind his eyes — far beyond his age.
The dream returned every three months… ever since he awakened his mana.
"Who… was she…?" he whispered.
A sudden spike of pain pierced through his skull.
Gripping his head, he stumbled out of his small cracked wooden bed and stepped outside his broken house. The moon still hovered above, distant and silent.
He stared at it desperately, trying to recall the woman's voice.
But the harder he searched… the sharper the pain became.
The world tilted.
Aaryan collapsed onto the cold ground, unconscious.
Warm sunlight brushed against his face.
His eyes snapped open.
"I'm late!"
He scrambled inside, splashed water across his face, and hurried into his worn-out clothes. Over them, he draped his torn mage cloak — faded, rotten, and patched more times than he could count.
He sprinted through the village streets.
People moved aside as he passed.
Not out of respect.
Out of disgust.
"Look… it's him…"
"The cursed child…"
"The Bottom Mage…"
Whispers sliced through him from every direction. Some villagers glared openly. Others looked at him as if he carried a contagious disease.
Aaryan kept running, his head lowered. He had grown used to it long ago.
He stopped before a massive palace gate.
Rows of royal guards stood at attention, their armor gleaming beneath the morning sun.
One of them smirked loudly.
"Look everyone! The Young Master's trash has arrived!"
The guards erupted into laughter.
Aaryan said nothing. He simply endured.
Moments later, the palace doors opened, and a handsome young boy stepped out confidently.
His crimson hair shimmered beneath the sunlight. Luxurious red silk robes embroidered with golden flames flowed around him.
Adhrit Varma.
Aaryan's younger half-brother.
The pride of the Varma household.
A beautifully decorated horse carriage rolled forward and stopped before them.
Aaryan's face brightened instantly.
"Come, little brother! Let's go to the academy together," he said warmly.
Adhrit's expression twisted with visible disgust.
"A trash like you has no right to call me brother."
His voice was cold. Merciless.
"And I refuse to travel with something so filthy."
Without another glance, he stepped into the carriage.
The royal carriage sped away, leaving a cloud of dust behind.
Aaryan stood silently.
After a brief moment, a faint smile formed on his lips. He began walking.
The academy was fifteen kilometers away.
By the time he reached the academy, sweat drenched his cloak and his legs trembled with exhaustion.
Laughter exploded the moment he entered the classroom.
"Bottom Mage is late again!"
"Maybe he flew here with his weak wind magic!"
Aaryan ignored them and walked to his seat at the very last row.
As he sat down, memories resurfaced.
The day his life truly shattered.
The Awakening Ceremony The entire Varma village had gathered inside the sacred divine place courtyard. It was the day children turned seven — the day they awakened their mana.
The divine place priest stood before a glowing mana altar.
"Today, we witness the rise of our future protectors," he declared proudly.
In their world, mana talents were ranked into ten levels:
Prarambh (Initiate)
Udaya (Awakening)
Veer (Warrior)
Rakshak (Guardian)
Senapati (Commander)
Maha Senapati (High Commander)
Raj Rakshak (Royal Guardian)
Maharathi (Supreme Warrior)
Dev Veer (Divine Warrior)
Adhipati (Absolute Ruler)
The ceremony began.
Children stepped forward one by one.
One boy awakened Water Affinity — Veer Level.
Another girl awakened Sword Talent — Udaya Level.
Cheers echoed throughout the courtyard.
Adhrit stepped forward with absolute confidence.
The mana altar erupted with blazing flames. Fire spiraled around him like a royal crown.
"Fire Affinity — Udaya Level, Mid Grade!" the priest announced.
The crowd exploded into celebration.
"Future heir of the Varma family!"
"Blessed child!"
Aaryan's stepmother, Lady Kavya Varma, smiled proudly while embracing Adhrit.
Standing at the edge of the crowd, Aaryan clapped sincerely for his brother.
Then his name was called.
Silence spread like a shadow.
Aaryan walked forward nervously and placed his hand on the altar.
Nothing happened.
Seconds stretched painfully.
A weak breeze finally swirled around him.
"Wind Affinity… Prarambh Level… Low Grade," the priest announced with clear disappointment.
Murmurs rippled across the crowd.
"The lowest possible talent…"
"Shame to the Varma bloodline…"
Aaryan lowered his head, but his eyes searched desperately for one person.
His father.
Village Lord Rajendra Varma.
Their eyes met for only a moment.
Rajendra turned away.
Cold. Indifferent.
At that exact moment, a violent gust of wind surged around Aaryan, swirling uncontrollably — almost as if trying to speak.
divine place lamps flickered wildly.
The sacred blessing flame above the altar extinguished instantly.
Gasps echoed across the divine place.
"It rejected him!"
"He is cursed!"
Lady Kavya covered her face in humiliation.
From that day onward, Aaryan was no longer treated as a son.
He became a servant in his own home.
"Everyone, settle down."
The classroom door slowly open.
Their history teacher, Acharya Harishankar (Rakshak level light mage), entered carrying a scroll.
"Today, we begin studying the history of the Mage Wars."
The classroom fell silent.
Aaryan slowly straightened his back.
Mockery. Hatred. Loneliness.
None of it mattered.
He quietly opened his book, determination burning deep within his eyes.
Outside the classroom window…
A gentle breeze circled near him.
Watching.
Waiting.