~January 1st, evening~

Any thirteen year old kid would have exploded in excitement if they ever got the chance to ride the flying carriage drawn by a couple of Eagle Horses.

Hell, any adult would have screamed giddily like a child if they had that same chance.

Jet Brandr was currently riding on one of those carriages. A luxury, top of the line, Brandr carriage at that. With all the comfort of a tiny home.

And yet, his face does not contain even a hint of joy.

Today is his birthday. Today was supposed to be his big day. Last night, at the annual Brandr's Ignition Ceremony, he was supposed to awaken his core. And be the next in line for his father's title. The Duke General.

Unfortunately, his luck has already run out.

Even as the white orb of Holy Fire descended back into the mouth of Ustrina Volcano, nothing happened to Jet. His aunt stepped in and tried to inspect his condition. And that's when he discovered the bad news.

Jet has no core. Not now. Not ever. His fate is sealed. His physical and fighting training he did ever since he was six meant nothing. At best, he can only lived his days as a common folk.

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“We have arrived.” The carriage driver spoke. Curt and icy. No longer containing the respect a servant gave to their master's family.

Jet looked outside the window. Looking at a weirdly shaped house and a lighthouse at the top of Ember Hill.

The lighthouse was famous for those sailors brave enough to weather the stormy Northern seas. The sailors called it God's Grace. For its light guide the ship back to safe land.

As for the octagon house, it was a different story. If the lighthouse gave hope to the sailors. The octagon bungalow is famous for being a hope crusher to the Brandrs.

The Brandrs called the house Octagon Island. Named for being the place where the Brandrs place those shameful members of the family. It has been a while since that happened, but now there's a new residence of Octagon Island.

A thirteen year old boy who just had his world crushed to dust.

The horses with eagle wings and heads neighed as they descended at the front of the bungalow. The entrance was facing the sea. The sun rise on its right and sets on its left. It should have been a beautiful scene. But there's no way Jet would have the appetite to enjoy it.

The carriage driver did not even got off to open the door. Jet chuckled bitterly about that. He never care about it before. He did not mind opening it himself, but that driver should've at least pretended a bit.

The driver tossed a knapsack to Jet.

“What's in it?” Jet asked.

“Necessities. There's a few Fire Crystals inside. Use it to light and warm the house. If you ran out, go and ask for more from Helldoor. The Duke General has already informed them about you.”

Jet frowned. “Huh? What's Helldoor?”

Then, a voice said as a group of people appeared from the back of the house. “That's us. The Helldoor Military Fortress.”

Jet studied them. They looked friendly, he thought.

The driver looked at the group of people with disdain. “Since you have already acquainted, I shall be off now.” And flew away without waiting for a response. Leaving Jet behind with that group of soldiers.

“Damn! That carriage driver is fucking rude.” The muscly lady complained.

Jet smiled. He felt a bit of warmth. “Yeah. But I won't see him anymore. So who cares.”

“Hahahaha. That's great, kid. If you want to survive here, you need to hold on to all the tiny bit of positivity you can muster.”

Jet scoffed. “I don't have positivity in me anymore. How about a healthy dose of sarcasm instead?”

All of them were startled, and then began to burst out laughing.

“Hahaha, that's good too.”