In the heart of Audrion, a land where the air shimmered faintly with traces of mana, stood the Celestine Citadel—a palace so magnificent that its spires seemed to pierce the heavens themselves. Magic flowed through every street, every whisper, every living creature. The people of Audrion were defined by the mana coursing through their veins—those of noble blood wielded immense magical strength, while the powerless were fated to live as commoners, bound to the earth and shadowed by the gifted.
Yet among these ranks rose a man who defied the very structure of the world—Lukas.
Born of no house, raised in no name, Lukas should have been bound to mediocrity. But his mana— untamed, vast, and ancient—surged within him like a storm threatening to break free from mortal flesh. His gift, unnatural for a man of common birth, became the talk of mages and nobles alike. His spells bore the strength of ten seasoned wizards; his mana reserves seemed endless, a phenomenon that challenged the very logic of royal bloodlines.
Whispers reached the Emperor of Audrion— Regulus Beauregard, who, intrigued rather than threatened, summoned the young man. After days of persuasion—and the tempting promise of unrestricted access to the royal archives filled with centuries-old enchanted tomes—Lukas ultimately accepted the offer. He was then named Private Wizard to the Crown, a title that raised eyebrows among the nobles who believed blood, not brilliance, defined worth.
Lukas stepped into the vast training courtyard of the palace, clutching a bundle of freshly borrowed tomes. The sunlight glinted off the enchanted fountain at the center, and the air buzzed with residual spells—lingering traces of the royals’ morning training.
He hadn’t been inside the royal grounds long before chaos struck. A sudden streak of light zipped past him, narrowly missing his shoulder and shattering a vase nearby. Lukas froze mid-step, eyes wide.
“Watch where you—!” he started, only to be cut off by a sharp, authoritative voice:
“First Prince! Control your magic this instant!”
A stern-looking wizard in flowing robes appeared, his staff crackling faintly with suppressed energy. Sparks from the misfired spell fizzled harmlessly against his protective barrier. “I’ve told you a thousand times—not in the courtyard! You’ll injure someone!”
The said prince, perched atop his hovering platform simply laughed in mischief, unconcerned of the mess and the potential hazard he may have caused.
Was this... Really the heir to the throne himself?