Chapter 1
Garnoss Wastes, Training Grounds of Caer Varn High
The training yard rang with spellfire and shouted orders. Students sprinted through obstacle courses, leapt over moving traps, and channeled magic until their limbs trembled. Instructors watched with hungry eyes — this was the day futures were decided.
Among them stood a boy in a matte-black mask, hood drawn low.White hair. Calm posture. Nothing in his appearance demanded attention.And somehow, that made everyone look twice.
Antero Kaye Winter — “KK.”
Rumors followed him like smoke:
“He never removed the mask.”
“He didn’t speak unless necessary.”
“His magic never flared too loudly… but it never broke.”
“Next!” the examiner snapped.
KK stepped forward.
TEST ONE: VELOCITY RUN
A sand track with illusory pitfalls and mana-sapping barriers.
Most students gasped and stumbled.KK moved like the traps were already marked in his mind, every step placed with eerie precision.
Time: 7.1 seconds. First place.
The instructors exchanged looks.
TEST TWO: MANA ENDURANCE
Students pushed raw energy through crystal conduits. Many coughed, faltered, collapsed.
KK’s magic flowed steady — not explosive, not flashy — just controlled. Like a blade held in a sheath.
Time held: 4 minutes, until the examiner stopped the test himself.
“That’s enough, boy. You’ll overdraw.”
KK only tilted his head, politely.
TEST THREE: PRECISION & FIREARMS
Targets. Movement illusions. Elemental cartridges.
Students hit what they saw.KK hit what should have been there.
Every target. Every blind angle.One bullet passed through a dummy and struck a hidden marker behind it, a target no one was supposed to know existed.
There was a stunned silence.
“…mark it as a coincidence,” one instructor muttered.
But coincidence felt like the wrong word.
FINAL SCORE
Running: 99%
Combat: 98%
Magic Load: 100%
Precision: 100%
Stamina: 97%
Total Score: 99%
The highest in the Garnoss Wastes in two decades.The highest for a masked, unregistered student ever.
“Who is he?” whispered a teacher.“No clan? No crest?”“No sponsor on file? That’s impossible.”
But the boy gave no answers, only a slight bow.
THE RESULTS SPREAD THROUGH AURETHIA
Data streamed to the central ranking system — the one all six kingdoms monitored.
Within minutes, the profile of a masked 10-year-old appeared across military archives and scouting networks:
NAME: KING KAYE
AGE: 10
SCORE: 99%
REGION: GARNOSS WASTES
NOTES: FACE UNAVAILABLE — CLAIMED MEDICAL CONDITION / “SOLAR ALLERGY”
They didn’t believe it, but they wrote it down anyway and somewhere, a ripple started.
VASTIELLE EMPIRE — MILITARY WAR ROOM
Prince Cassian Draven stood over a glowing table, his former teammates surrounding him. A projection of names flickered above it.
“King Kaye,” one read aloud.“Huh. Think he’s a noble brat hiding his background?”“Masked profile at ten? Definitely someone’s secret weapon.”“Or someone who wants to disappear before he’s noticed.”
Cassian leaned forward. His expression didn’t break. His voice was low. “…Someone who trained for this.”
The room quieted. For a heartbeat, it sounded like recognition.Then it passed.
“Whatever he is,” another teammate snorted, “if he enters the national competition, we’ll find out. Nobody hides forever.”
Cassian didn’t respond.He didn’t know why the name bothered him — only that it did.
SOLMIRA QUEENDOM — A ROOFTOP AT DUSK
Astraea Winter sat on the ledge of a high-rise, the wind pulling at her coat. Neon lights reflected in her eyes like stars trapped in glass.
Her phone rang. She answered without checking the name. “Kaye?”
A soft, smug voice replied: “The wise lost their balance, so I simply stood still.”
Astraea smiled. “In normal words, sweetheart.”
“I placed first.”
“Oh? Only first? Should I be disappointed?”
He huffed. “Ninety-nine.”
She laughed under her breath, the same laugh she used to give the world, before she learned to guard herself.
“That sounds right. After all…” she checked the magazine of her morphing gun, chambering a round with a soft click, “you’re my son.”
Across the street, a window lit up. Her target arrived. KK’s voice softened. “Come home safe?”
“I always do,” she lied gently.
She hung up, leaned forward, and let the night swallow her. Testing day had ended. Assassination night had begun.
*
The suite in the Garnoss Wastes was quiet, except for the hum of the city below. Astraea stepped into her private bathroom, the steam curling around her like soft smoke. Water ran over her hair, washing away the fatigue, the scent of blood and dirt clinging faintly to her from her last mission.
The suite had been a gift from the Master of the Nines of Tomb, a place she had carved into a home for her son. For ten years she had raised him here, in this chaotic, lawless city, while keeping him hidden from the world. Some days, she remembered thinking he would know the nurses more than her. She had almost let that happen once, but never again. The nurses were there to assist her, not to parent her son.
Astraea sighed, letting the water run over her hands, then chuckled softly. He’s asleep now. My precious angel. It’s almost time for school.
Turning off the faucet, she wrapped herself in a silk nightdress and robe, smooth against her skin, a small luxury she allowed herself. She stepped quietly down the hall to the bedroom she shared with her child.
The room was a storm of chaos. Clothes thrown across the floor, broken toys scattered, magical manuals stacked haphazardly. She shook her head with a faint smile, as though this mess was a testament to his intelligence and curiosity.
Sliding onto the bed, she rested beside him, her hand brushing back his soft hair. His small arms found her, hugging her tightly.
“Good morning, Mama,” KK murmured, though it came out in his usual riddle:
“If the sun forgets to rise, does the morning know my name?”
Astraea smiled faintly, tugging his ear gently. “Too late for this mouth of yours, angel.”
He grumbled softly. “Mama, isn’t it morning? Have you gone blind?”
She chuckled, letting her head fall back onto the pillow. For a moment, the world outside vanished.
The sunlight crept through the curtains, gentle but insistent. KK’s eyes flickered open fully, bright and alert. He shook his head, looking at her, a mischievous grin playing on his lips.
“He is too young to be raising his own mother.”
Astraea let the corners of her lips twitch before she finally drifted into sleep, the soft rhythm of his breathing a lullaby for her as the city outside began its day.
