Deep in the outskirts of Elshire, nestled at the crossroads of the mysterious Forest of Zehka, stood a sprawling facility.

It was a place where children of aristocratic lineage were sent to be raised, but there was a catch. These were not the favored children, the heirs and heiresses groomed for power and prestige.

No, these were the unwanted ones, the ones who threatened the delicate balance of power within their families. Some were the children of fathers' infidelities, some were born with disabilities, and others were simply deemed weak.

Whatever the reason for their banishment, they were sent here to be forgotten, trained in magic or the art of the sword, in order to someday be adopted into a gentle noble family.

Today was supposed to be like any other day: Those who were old enough would learn the art of magic. Others, that weren’t as proficient in magic as their peers but showed talent in the physical department, practice the art of the sword, while the workers would do their utmost to maintain the current state of affairs.

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But on this very day throughout the institute, a commotion was arising.

“W-what?!” A blonde adolescent boy wearing dirty-white robes stammered, his eyes wide open.

“But wasn’t he pronounced dead yesterday...!?”

“Yes,” The young woman interjected “and you wouldn’t have been wrong to think that. However...” She paused.

“He came back to life, on the same bed the boy’s soul had left its body.”

He tilted his head.

“Why didn’t you bury him on that day?”

She sighed and turned her head to look outside the window. More specifically, to the room that the infant was residing in.

“It was Lady Arinia’s orders. She didn’t accept that the child had died, and pleaded to us to wait one more day.” She uttered in a tone barely louder than a whisper.

“...It seems like she was right.” The teenage boy muttered, following his partner’s gaze.

It was on that faithful day, that the world would change forever. For better, or for worse.