Black clouds sprawled across the sky. The air grew heavy, and humidity pressed down, suffocating. The silence fell apart as the sky screamed, a hot silver streak split the sky apart, and the downpour began. The drops like bullets pierced through the thick air and the winds roared.
Lucifer shut his eyes closed, clenched his throbbing heart with his trembling hands. A bone-chilling coldness enveloped his entire being, and an excruciating pain surged through his head, threatening to tear it asunder. His body, once pristine, now painted in a grotesque hue of red, bore the gruesome testimony of wounds and injuries inflicted upon him. As the insufferable agony slithered through his flesh and veins, he unleashed a primal scream that sought to pierce the heavens. However, his anguished cry found no solace amidst the deafening roar of the elements. Opening his mouth for another desperate cry, he instead expelled fragments of blood, a gruesome manifestation of the internal inferno consuming him. His teeth ground together, the metallic taste of blood coating his tongue, Lucifer grappled with the horrifying reality that his own body had become a theatre of suffering. The symphony of his agony intertwined with the thunderous resonance of the elements, a cruel ballet unfolding beneath the apathetic gaze of the heavens.
'Is this the end? Am I going to die like this? But if I die what about my friends, the people, the enemies? The war is not over yet…I cannot die like this! No! no! I......'
18 years ago.
On a bright sunny morning, when the fresh cool wind and crispy air started whistling, and the birds started their morning melody, a new life fluttered its eyes open with a sharp cry.
Judith gave birth to a baby boy. The child had an angelic appearance with pale white skin, a sharp nose, brown hair, small red lips and a pair of twinkling bright eyes like stars; golden in colour.
Marcus, the father, bestowed upon the child the name Lucifer, a moniker resonating with the Latin meaning "Light-Bringer." Paradoxically, the infant destined to be the harbinger of light lived in perpetual darkness, his sight veiled by the absence of light.
"Honey, look at his eyes; they are golden. I'm sure he will be a wielder of magic," Judith exclaimed with tears welling in her eyes.
"You are right, wife. Whose son do you think he is? So what if we are poor? In this kingdom, magic is the greatest power. Nobody will look down upon him once he starts seeing and sensing mana. Hahaha, my pride, my son..." Marcus declared with a proud smile.
Despite their humble circumstances, Judith and Marcus swelled with pride for their son. Disregarding their poverty, they extended invitations to all villagers for a celebratory dinner, eager to share their joy, oblivious to the future shadows that loomed ahead.
Nestled within the expansive Asina Empire, the Mantric Kingdom stood out as a beacon of magical prowess. Renowned for producing exceptional magicians throughout its history, this realm held a special place for those possessing golden eyes, recognized as magic wielders, or Mantrics. The golden-eyed individuals were believed to harness a unique power enabling them to perceive golden particles in the air – Mana, small packets of energy that could be absorbed and stored within their bodies. The ability to see and sense these particles, coupled with the skill to absorb and store them in a core, distinguished the magical hierarchy.
Formation of the core near the abdomen was a relatively straightforward process for magicians, requiring focus on the absorbed Mana particles. However, the true measure of a magician's prowess lay in strengthening their core, a task that determined their classification. Lower-class mages, denoted by Red, Orange, and Yellow cores, belonged to the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd classes, respectively. Middle-class mages, characterized by Green and Blue cores, comprised the 4th and 5th classes. The elite High-class mages boasted Indigo and Violet cores in the 6th and 7th classes, while the pinnacle of magical achievement rested with the 8th class – the Great Mage, recognized by a pristine white core.
Attaining the esteemed status of a Great Mage was a rare feat, with only a select few achieving this level in the past thousand years. Among them stood Jacob Noctifer, a revered 70-year-old figure who held the title of the sole Great Mage in the vast Asina Empire. His wisdom and magical prowess made him the embodiment of all magicians, serving as the lord of the esteemed 'Magic Tower,' a tower-like structure where magicians resided, governed by set laws.
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7 years later.
A village of humans resided in the heart of a forest known as ‘The Forest of small.’ A forest where basically ‘the small people’ called ‘Kobolds’ were the original inhabitants. These mythical creatures were said to have existed long before humans came to rule the world. They were craven reptilian humanoids worshipping dragons as demigods. People believed these creatures were just myths as no one ever saw them and they only existed in stories.
In the village, where the lively sounds of children's laughter intertwined with women sharing tales of their neighbours' escapades and boasting about their children's accomplishments at the town academy, a sombre note pierced through the joyous atmosphere.
Amidst the animated conversations, a soft groan echoed, drawing attention to a little boy with a pale white face, golden eyes, and red hair, nestled in his mother's arms. This little boy was Lucifer. Fearing another onslaught of his father's anger, he clung tightly to his mother, holding back hot tears that threatened to spill. At the tender age of seven, Lucifer exhibited a maturity beyond his years, well aware of the reasons behind the ridicule he faced, the disdain in people's gazes, and the mixed emotions of sympathy and contempt that surrounded him.
Judith held her son close, providing a shield against the potential wrath of her husband. Marcus, slightly sobering from his intoxicated state, gritted his teeth. Despite the love he held for his wife and child, the revelation of Lucifer's blindness shattered the dreams and pride he had envisioned for his son. Golden-eyed but unable to perceive mana, Lucifer faced rejection from academies, laughter from neighbours, and the unyielding reality of a condition no one could cure.
The acceptance of their new reality, the resignation to lead a normal life, was abruptly disrupted on Lucifer's seventh birthday. His hair, once brown, transformed into a despised shade of red – a colour that is forbidden in the empire.
Marcus, grappling with his insecurities, succumbed to the numbing embrace of alcohol, losing control and subjecting his innocent son to a torrent of physical abuse. Despite the haze of alcohol-induced rage, Marcus couldn't escape the harsh truth. Consumed by self-loathing, he stumbled out of the house, slamming the door shut behind him. Unseen were the tears streaming down his face, the fresh wounds etched on his back, and the humble bun wrapped in paper in his pocket – a simple, desperate token of love for his son, lost in the depths of his despair.
In their small cottage, where the roof threatened to crumble at any moment, Judith clung desperately to Lucifer, her tears a silent lament for a life her son could never have. The dim light revealed the anguish etched on her face as she embraced him, the weight of his struggles bearing down on her maternal shoulders.
Lucifer, though blind, sensed the depth of his mother's sorrow. He could feel her trembling and hear the soft sobs that wracked her body. As hot tears soaked through her worn dress, she tightened her grip on her son, as if shielding him from the world's cruelty.
Her heart ached as she gazed upon Lucifer, her innocent child trapped in a world that showed him no mercy. The realization struck her like a dagger to the heart: even if he could see, his golden eyes and red hair marked him as an outcast. A wave of regret washed over her, drowning her in the bitter sorrow of unfulfilled dreams.
"Only if your hair remained brown as it was and you didn’t……" Judith's voice trailed off into a mournful whisper, her words a pained admission of the cruel hand fate had dealt them.
"Hmm?" Lucifer, curious and sensitive to his mother's emotions, heard her mumbling to herself. Confused, he pondered on the mention of brown hair, a hue that seemed so distant from the reality of his existence. The unspoken grief in his mother's voice hinted at a past that now seemed lost, leaving behind only the echoes of what might have been.
Lucifer's heart swelled with a myriad of unspoken questions, each one a shard of curiosity cutting through the fabric of his being. Yet, in the suffocating atmosphere of their fragile cottage, he decided to bury those inquiries, a heavy silence hanging between the unspoken words. With a nod, he acknowledged the need to let the unspoken truths linger in the shadows. As he reached out to perceive the world through his mother's tear-streaked eyes, Lucifer gently wiped away the traces of her silent suffering. Summoning a fragile smile, he attempted to project a facade of strength, assuring her that everything was fine, that he was fine.
However, the frailty in Lucifer's smile, like a crack in a delicate facade, intensified the chill in the air. Rather than providing comfort, it seemed to magnify the harsh reality they faced. Her shivers reverberated through Lucifer, the rapid cadence of her heartbeat echoing the silent symphony of her distress. Before he could fathom the source of her anxiety, she pulled him close, cradling him against her bosom with a tenderness that bespoke a mother's undying love.
Her touch, though gentle, carried the weight of unspoken sorrows and shattered dreams. At that moment, Lucifer felt the warmth of her maternal affection enveloping him, a bittersweet refuge in the storm of their harsh reality. He tightened his small arms around her, not just in a comforting hug, but as a feeble attempt to shield her from the cruelties life had imposed upon them.
A soft smile graced Lucifer's face, a delicate expression that belied the turbulence within. It was a smile etched with the innocence of a child who yearned to believe that love could conquer all, even the darkest shadows that loomed over their lives. Yet, beneath that facade, lay the unspoken acknowledgement that their journey was destined to be one filled with heartache and silent tears.