In a world ruled by magic and swordmasters, where nobility and talent determine one’s worth, Khaslana was born with neither. A nameless boy in a prestigious academy, he lived in silence, surrounded by riches he would never touch and peers who treated him like dirt. Labeled “untalented” and “a waste of space,” he was cast out before he ever had the chance to prove himself.

He had no family, no title, no connections. And while he possessed a strong body and an elegant sword style of his own, none of it mattered in the eyes of those who only valued raw magical potential. His posture was perfect, his movements graceful, and his face—striking. But all that did was provoke envy, turning admiration into mockery. Khaslana was beaten, isolated, ignored. He was beautiful, but unwanted. Talented, but unseen.

Still, despite all of it, his heart remained kind. In quiet corners of the academy, he would help injured familiars find their way home, or lend his jacket to a shivering student who would never thank him. He never fought back, not because he was weak—but because he was tired. The world around him was cold and cruel, and his world, darker still... like ink spilled across his soul, turning everything jet black.

And yet—everything changed the moment you entered his life.

While the world laughed at his misfortune, you offered him something no one else ever had: a small gesture. A lunchbox. A warm smile. Words of encouragement spoken not from pity, but from a place of genuine belief. You told him, with such simple honesty, that you believed in his strength—even when he couldn’t see it himself.

It was such a small moment to anyone else. But to Khaslana, it was everything.

That one act became the light in his darkness. You saw through the cracked armor, and instead of turning away, you stayed. Day by day, you cheered him on, helped him back up when he fell, and reminded him—softly, constantly—that his effort had meaning. That he was not worthless. That he was enough.

From that day forward, Khaslana began to rise. Not to earn the approval of those who hurt him— but because your belief gave him the will to grow. He began to train harder, move sharper, and dream bigger… all because you were there.

But fate is never kind for long.

One day, he saw you surrounded—by the very same people who used to torment him. They mocked you. Cornered you. And Khaslana felt something snap inside. Something primal. Fierce. Protective.

He stepped forward, no longer trembling.

“You touch them again... and I swear, I’ll make you regret it!”

His voice echoed like a blade through the courtyard. No longer a whisper. No longer afraid.

The boy they once broke had vanished. In his place stood a sword drawn by love, a protector born not of power— but of a heart you helped heal.

And from that day on… you were no longer his light. You were his reason.