The capital city of Solum had never looked like this before.
From early morning, the streets were filled with noble carriages rolling one after another, their wheels echoing against the stone roads. Knight escorts in polished armor marched beside them, banners fluttering proudly in the air. Merchants lined the streets with decorated stalls, selling charms, food, and ceremonial trinkets.
Above all of it—
Blackthorne flags.
Black cloth embroidered with a silver thorned crown hung from towers, gates, balconies, and city walls. Even the air itself felt different, heavy with anticipation.
This was not merely a celebration.
It was a declaration.
Today was the Age Ceremony of Aurelian von Blackthorne.
And the entire empire was watching.
People whispered his name as if it carried weight of its own. Some spoke with admiration. Others with fear. A few with envy.
No matter the emotion—
No one ignored it.
---
POV: Common Nobles in Solum
Near the central plaza, beside a wide marble fountain, several nobles had gathered. Their clothing was elegant, adorned with house crests and gemstones, yet their expressions were cautious rather than joyful.
"I heard the Blackthorne heir already formed three magic circles."
The words came from a middle-aged noble in blue robes.
A man in green robes scoffed lightly, waving his hand.
"At his age? Ridiculous. Children exaggerate. Parents exaggerate even more."
A woman standing beside them shook her head slowly.
"You say that, but explain this—why are the Magic Towers here?"
The man frowned. "One tower sending observers isn't unusual."
Another noble leaned closer, lowering his voice.
"Not one. Three human Magic Towers. Silver, White, and Red."
That silenced them.
A moment passed before one noble whispered,
"Then… the rumors might be true."
Someone swallowed audibly.
"What kind of child draws this much attention?"
No one answered.
Slowly, their gazes shifted toward the distant Blackthorne estate, visible beyond the city structures like a silent fortress.
None of them dared speak again.
---
POV: Silver Magic Tower, Council Room
Inside the Silver Magic Tower, the atmosphere was calm—but tense.
Several archmages sat around a circular table made of floating crystal. Runes drifted lazily beneath its surface, reacting to the mana in the room.
At the head sat Tower Master Eldric.
An elderly man with white hair and calm, sharp eyes.
An 8th Circle Mage.
"The mana flow in Solum has changed," Eldric said quietly.
A younger archmage frowned.
"Because of the ceremony?"
Eldric shook his head slowly.
"No. Because of the child."
Another archmage crossed her arms.
"He hasn't even awakened yet."
"And that," Eldric replied, voice steady, "is what worries me."
Silence filled the chamber.
Finally, one mage spoke hesitantly.
"Do you believe… he could surpass his father?"
Eldric closed his eyes for a brief moment.
Images passed through his mind—records, reports, fluctuations in mana that should not exist.
"I believe," he said slowly, opening his eyes,
"that this child may redefine what potential means."
No one argued.
---
POV: Black Division Observer
At the far outskirts of Solum, where the city lights faded and the land sank into silence, several cloaked figures stood atop a low ridge.
Their robes were black.
Not ceremonial black.
Not noble black.
A deeper shade—one that absorbed light rather than reflected it.
There were no insignias.
No banners.
No visible symbols.
They were the Black Division.
Observers of anomalies.
Recorders of events that should not exist.
A cold wind passed, yet none of them moved.
A woman with sharp violet eyes stepped forward slightly. Her gaze was fixed on the distant glow of Solum.
"The target is confirmed," she said softly.
Beside her, a man shifted his weight, frowning beneath his hood.
"…A child?"
"Yes."
The word was calm. Certain.
The man turned toward the city again, disbelief clear in his voice.
"All this attention… for a child?"
The woman did not answer immediately. Instead, her eyes narrowed slightly, as if sensing something unseen.
Then she spoke again.
"And yet," she said quietly,
"the void reacted last night."
The man stiffened.
"…Void?"
His tone was no longer doubtful.
It was cautious.
She nodded once.
"At the moment before dawn," she continued,
"there was a fluctuation. Brief. Almost unnoticeable."
She paused.
"But unmistakable."
The wind grew colder.
The man's hand tightened at his side.
"That shouldn't be possible."
"It shouldn't," she agreed.
Silence followed.
Then the man asked,
"Do we intervene?"
The woman shook her head slowly.
"No."
Her lips curved into a faint smile—calm, unreadable.
"This is not something we interfere with."
She looked toward Solum once more.
"This," she said softly,
"is something we record."
The cloaked figures remained still as statues, watching the city where the bells still echoed.
The Age Ceremony had not yet begun.
And already—
Something ancient had taken notice.
---
POV: Duke Ragnar von Lionheart
Standing near a wide window overlooking Solum was a towering figure.
Duke Ragnar von Lionheart.
Red hair like burning embers.
Red eyes like living fire.
An 8-Star Spearman, known across the empire as the Spear King.
Beside him stood his son.
Lucian von Lionheart.
Young, tall for his age, posture sharp. His aura was disciplined, forged through harsh training. He had completed his Age Ceremony only a few months ago.
His potential—SS+.
Lucian broke the silence.
"Father," he asked, eyes fixed on the capital below,
"what do you think will happen today?"
Ragnar crossed his arms and smiled faintly.
"Whatever happens," he said calmly,
"it will change the battlefield."
Lucian's eyes widened slightly.
"You mean… that much?"
Ragnar nodded.
"The Blackthorne blood does not produce ordinary men."
He paused, then added,
"I will be watching my old friend's son today."
Lucian clenched his fist slightly.
'Aurelian von Blackthorne…'
He had heard the stories.
He wanted to see the truth with his own eyes.
---
POV: Duke Leonhart von Blackthorne (Retired)
Within the Blackthorne estate, an old man sat alone in a quiet chamber.
Leonhart von Blackthorne—once known across the continent as a Sword Emperor—rested a sword across his knees.
His grip was steady.
But his hands trembled.
'It feels like that day…'
A memory surfaced against his will.
A battlefield soaked in blood.
Broken weapons scattered like debris.
Leonhart let out a slow breath.
"Aurelian…"
The door opened softly.
Alaric stepped inside.
"Father."
Leonhart did not raise his head.
"Tell me honestly," he said.
"Do you feel it too?"
Alaric paused before answering.
"…Yes."
Leonhart nodded slowly.
"The sword is reacting," he said. "It hasn't done this since I reached Sword Emperor."
Alaric's expression hardened.
Leonhart finally looked up, his old eyes sharp.
"Whatever awakens today," he said quietly,
"you must protect him."
Alaric clenched his fist.
"I will."
---
POV: Blackthorne Estate, Guards and Knights
Within the Blackthorne estate, the air was sharp with tension.
Black Steel Knights stood in perfect formation, their black armor gleaming under the sunlight. Their presence alone was enough to make weaker nobles nervous.
Every corner was guarded.
Every shadow watched.
A young knight whispered,
"Never seen security this tight."
An older knight replied quietly,
"Because if anything happens today…"
"…it will be war," the first knight finished.
Neither of them laughed.
---
POV: Emperor Magnus von Starlight
Within the imperial palace, Emperor Magnus von Starlight stood beside a massive window.
He did not smile.
His gaze was fixed far away.
"The Blackthorne child," he said calmly.
A minister hidden in shadow bowed slightly.
"Has he been assessed before, Your Majesty?"
"No," the minister replied.
"Not officially."
Magnus nodded.
"Good."
His fingers tapped softly against the glass.
"Unmeasured power is dangerous."
He turned slightly.
"But useful."
---
POV: Aurelian von Blackthorne
Inside a quiet room, Aurelian von Blackthorne stood before a mirror.
His ceremonial attire was black.
Simple.
Unadorned.
Heavy with meaning.
He adjusted the collar slowly, his expression calm.
Yet inside—
He could feel it.
Thousands of eyes.
Not physically—but spiritually.
'They are all waiting.'
His hand clenched into a fist.
'Then watch.'
Outside, bells rang.
Deep.
Resonant.
Echoing through Solum.
The Age Ceremony was about to begin.