⟨Narrator⟩
From that day onward—
Renji devoted himself entirely to study.
It wasn't casual reading.
It wasn't curiosity alone.
It was immersion.
From morning until night, he remained inside the Hoshizora Library, surrounded by towering shelves and endless volumes of knowledge. Hours passed unnoticed as he moved from one section to another, collecting books, opening pages, and absorbing information at a relentless pace.
The outside world faded.
Time lost its meaning.
Meals became secondary.
Rest became optional.
Only one thing mattered—
Understanding.
He buried himself in thick historical records.
Dense texts filled with dates, wars, bloodlines, and power structures.
Alongside them were racial encyclopedias—detailed, methodical, and precise—documenting the existence of beings that defined the very foundation of the world.
Again and again, one term appeared.
Repeated.
Emphasized.
Unavoidable.
Humanlords.
At first, it seemed like a title.
Something symbolic.
Something political.
But the deeper Renji read—
The clearer it became.
That assumption was wrong.
"Humanlord" was not just a title.
It was not something given.
It was not something earned.
It was something inherent.
It was a declaration.
A classification of existence itself.
The term referred to a family of six dominant races—
Beings that stood at the very peak of civilization.
Power.
And magical capability.
Every major nation.
Every kingdom.
Every war recorded in history—
Had been shaped by them.
Not influenced.
Not guided.
Shaped.
They were not simply part of the world.
They ruled it.
The six races were:
Humans.
Elves.
Plantees.
Vampires.
Barbarians.
Beast-humans.
Each one—
Fundamentally different.
Yet equally dominant.
Beast-humans
At first glance, Beast-humans resembled ordinary humans.
Their overall structure—their posture, their movement, their general appearance—made them difficult to distinguish from a distance.
But up close—
The differences became impossible to ignore.
Animal traits.
Clear.
Defined.
Unmistakable.
Ears that twitched at the faintest sound.
Tails that moved instinctively, reflecting emotion before words were even spoken.
Some bore feline features—sharp eyes, graceful movements.
Others carried canine traits—alert, aggressive, responsive.
There were those with rabbit-like agility.
And others with the raw presence of wolves.
Each variation brought its own strengths.
But all shared the same foundation—
Enhanced senses.
Faster reflexes.
Greater physical strength.
Even without formal training, their bodies surpassed that of normal humans.
Their reactions were sharper.
Their instincts stronger.
Their movements more efficient.
They were not built for adaptation.
They were built for combat.
They were—
Born warriors.
Elves
If Beast-humans dominated the physical realm—
Elves ruled over mana.
Their control over magic was not something learned through struggle.
It was natural.
Effortless.
Like breathing.
Even the simplest spells, when cast by an elf, carried a level of refinement that others could not replicate easily. Their mana flowed smoothly, without resistance, without instability.
There was no waste.
No inefficiency.
Only precision.
Despite their slender frames—
They were not weak.
Far from it.
Their physical strength often rivaled—or even exceeded—that of Beast-humans, especially when enhanced by their superior mana control.
And then—
There was time.
Elves lived long.
Far longer than humans.
Decades meant little to them.
Centuries—
Were normal.
That time allowed them to refine their abilities to perfection.
To polish every technique.
To eliminate every flaw.
Their pointed ears became more than just a physical trait.
They were a symbol.
Of beauty.
Of pride.
Of superiority.
Within their race existed several sub-races:
Dwarf Elves.
Dark Elves.
And the most common—Belevish Elves.
Each carried its own culture.
Its own specialties.
Its own identity.
But all shared one truth—
Mastery over mana.
Barbarians
Where Elves refined power—
Barbarians embodied it.
They were not subtle.
They were not elegant.
They were not precise.
They were overwhelming.
Their bodies were built differently.
Muscles dense—
Almost unnatural.
Bones structured with a level of durability that resembled metal more than flesh.
They did not rely on spells.
Not because they chose not to—
But because they couldn't.
Traditional magic did not suit them.
Mana still flowed through their bodies.
But instead of releasing it outward—
They forced it inward.
Converted.
Compressed.
Reinforced.
The result—
Raw physical enhancement.
Every movement carried weight.
Every step—
Could crack the ground.
Every strike—
Could shatter armor.
They didn't cast spells.
They became them.
Not all Barbarians possessed this ability.
But those who did—
Were terrifying.
Some records claimed that a single high-level Barbarian could stand against an entire battalion.
Not metaphorically.
Literally.
Vampires
Vampires carried a different kind of power.
Not loud.
Not explosive.
But—
Unsettling.
Their appearance alone was enough to draw attention.
Pale skin.
Refined features.
An almost unnatural beauty that made it difficult to look away.
But that beauty hid something deeper.
Something instinctual.
The need for blood.
It wasn't always violent.
In many cases, it was controlled.
Personal.
Even intimate.
They often drank from those they trusted.
Those close to them.
Treating the act as something more than survival.
But on the battlefield—
That restraint vanished.
There, they became something else entirely.
Predators.
They showed no hesitation.
No mercy.
Feeding on their enemies without pause.
There were also records—
Uncertain.
Incomplete.
But consistent.
If a member of another Humanlord race consumed a vampire's blood—
The outcome was unpredictable.
Death.
Or transformation.
Nothing in between.
Few were willing to test which fate awaited them.
Plantees
Among the six—
Plantees were the most peaceful.
They did not seek conflict.
They did not chase power.
They existed in harmony.
With forests.
With rivers.
With the land itself.
Their connection to nature wasn't symbolic.
It was real.
Deep.
Fundamental.
Their mana was intertwined with the natural world.
Flowing through roots.
Through soil.
Through life itself.
Healing came naturally to them.
Effortless.
Instinctive.
Wounds could be closed.
Energy restored.
Life preserved.
But they were not defenseless.
Their magic could restrain enemies.
Grow barriers.
Control terrain.
They protected.
They sustained.
They restored.
They were often called—
The caretakers of the world.
There were two primary sub-races:
Drauds—who lived deep within the rainforests of the Nocian Islands.
Druids—who resided across the vast plains of the Grass Kingdom.
Both remained distant from conflict.
Avoiding wars unless absolutely necessary.
Unless—
Nature itself was threatened.
Humans
And finally—
Humans.
The most ordinary.
Yet—
The most abnormal.
Unlike every other race—
Humans did not specialize.
They adapted.
Where Beast-humans had strength—
Humans could train.
Where Elves mastered mana—
Humans could learn.
Where Plantees healed—
Humans studied.
Even the enhancement techniques of Barbarians—
Could be replicated.
Not naturally.
Not easily.
But—
Possibly.
Their growth had no clear limit.
Their mana flow—
Flexible.
Unrestricted.
Their potential—
Unpredictable.
Individually, they might seem average.
Unremarkable.
But collectively—
They were something else.
Dangerous.
Because humans could become anything.
And that—
Made them the strongest.
Renji learned all of this through books.
Through pages filled with knowledge.
Through hours of quiet study.
But what he understood—
Was only the surface.
Because beyond the six races of the Humanlord family—
There existed something else.
Something unrecorded.
Something scholars did not speak of.
Something hidden.
They were called—
Nulls.
Not because they were weak.
But because—
They were nothing.
No fixed form.
No defined race.
No structure that could be studied.
Their bodies—
Did not follow rules.
They could change.
Twist.
Reshape.
A man.
A woman.
A child.
A monster.
All of it—
Possible.
To witness a Null—
Was to question the definition of life itself.
They were few.
Extremely few.
But numbers—
Did not matter.
Because one was enough.
A single Null could rival entire nations.
Where others trained for decades to control mana—
Nulls did not need to.
For them—
Mana was natural.
Limitless.
Pure.
Efficient.
No restriction.
No waste.
They did not age normally.
They did not weaken normally.
And they did not die easily.
Some ancient fragments—
Hidden deep within forbidden archives—
Suggested something even more unsettling.
Nulls were not born.
They appeared.
Without origin.
Without explanation.
As if the world itself had made a mistake.
Or perhaps—
A correction.
For now—
They remained nothing more than a forgotten truth.
A hidden existence.
Far beyond Renji's knowledge.