Hage Village woke before the sun.
Mist rolled down from the hills, thin and pale, brushing against rooftops and wheat fields. The church bell rang once, slow and heavy, calling the children of the orphanage to morning chores.
Asta was already outside.
"I'LL BECOME THE WIZARD KING!"
His voice tore through the quiet air like a battle cry.
Sister Lily sighed.
Yuno said nothing, but the breeze gathered faintly around him, responding as if it understood his silence.
Mana filled the world so naturally that most people forgot it was there.
It shimmered in the air.It clung to skin.It answered instinct.
Kael felt none of it.
He stood near the fence behind the church, watching the others train. His dark hair fell lazily over steady eyes, unreadable and distant.
Children younger than him could already form sparks in their palms.
Some could shape water.
Others could harden their skin with mana reinforcement.
Even Asta—who lacked control—radiated raw, unstable magic.
Kael closed his eyes.
He inhaled slowly.
If mana was in the air, then he should feel something.
A current.A whisper.A pull.
There was nothing.
It was like trying to grasp smoke with broken hands.
He exhaled.
The world moved on without him.
Later that afternoon, the older boys gathered near the well.
"Grimoire Ceremony is in two years," one of them said proudly. "My brother already got a three-leaf."
Another laughed. "I'll probably get the same. Our family has strong mana."
Their gazes shifted.
"Hey, Kael."
He didn't turn.
"You think you'll even get one?"
A pause.
Someone snorted. "What would it even give him? A blank book?"
Laughter spread easily.
Kael finally looked at them.
Not angry.Not embarrassed.
Just calm.
"That's enough," Yuno's voice came quietly from the side.
The boys clicked their tongues and walked off.
Asta ran over immediately after.
"Don't listen to them! You just have to train harder! I'll help you! We'll both become Magic Knights!"
Kael looked at him for a long moment.
Asta believed that. Completely.
"That's your dream," Kael replied softly.
Asta blinked. "What about you?"
Kael didn't answer.
Because he didn't know.
In a world built entirely on magic, what dream was left for someone who had none?
That night, the sky was unusually clear.
Stars scattered across the darkness like fractured glass.
Kael lay awake while the others slept, staring at the wooden ceiling.
He could hear breathing around him. Feel the faint pulse of mana each body emitted unconsciously.
Except his own.
He extended his hand into the air.
Still nothing.
For the first time in years, frustration surfaced—not loud or explosive, but sharp and quiet.
Why?
Why him?
Even peasants had mana.
Even criminals had mana.
Was he truly born defective?
He slipped out of bed and walked outside.
Cold air wrapped around him.
Behind the church stood an old stone wall, half broken from age. It had become his silent witness over the years.
He stood before it.
"If I can't use mana…" he murmured, voice barely audible, "then what am I supposed to use?"
The wind moved gently through the grass.
No answer came.
He clenched his fist and struck the stone.
Pain shot through his knuckles.
Again.
And again.
Stone scraped skin.
Blood marked the cracks.
Still nothing responded.
His breathing grew heavier.
Not from exhaustion.
From helplessness.
Footsteps approached from the darkness.
Three silhouettes emerged near the tree line.
Older boys.
Stronger.
Their mana was obvious even without sensing it directly—the air around them felt denser.
"What are you doing out here alone?" one asked casually.
Kael didn't reply.
The second boy smirked. "Training?"
A small ball of light formed above his palm, casting pale glow across the snow-dusted ground.
"You know," the third added, stepping closer, "if you just accept you're useless, life would be easier."
Kael's jaw tightened slightly.
He wasn't afraid.
He was tired.
The light spell shot forward without warning.
It struck his shoulder and knocked him backward into the wall.
Stone cracked behind him.
Pain flared hot and immediate.
Another spell formed.
"You don't belong in this world," the first boy said, voice colder now. "Magic is everything."
The second blast came.
Kael tried to move.
Too slow.
Impact drove the air from his lungs.
He dropped to one knee.
Snow soaked into his clothes.
The third boy grabbed his collar and lifted him halfway up.
"Look at you," he whispered. "Empty."
Empty.
The word echoed strangely in Kael's mind.
Empty.
No mana.
No blessing.
No place.
Something inside him stilled.
Not rage.
Not despair.
Something deeper.
The night grew quieter.
The wind faded.
Even the faint hum of mana in the air felt distant.
His heartbeat slowed.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
The boy holding him frowned.
"Why does it suddenly feel—"
Silence.
Not natural silence.
Absolute.
The stars above seemed sharper.
The air heavier.
Kael's eyes opened.
And for the first time—
They were not empty.
To be continued.