(2 years later...)

8-year-old Lucifer's POV

The sun rose the same as any other day in the village of Denham, the place where I lived. Birds chirped merrily outside my window, and the soft glow of morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm hue in my room. Even though the day seemed normal like everyday routine, I could already feel a heavy weight on my chest as soon as I woke up.

Because it's another day of pretending, another day of shouldering burdens that are too heavy to bear, nonetheless, I drag myself out of bed, with every step a struggle as I go downstairs to the kitchen. Mom is already preparing breakfast and the smell of pancakes and syrup has filled the air, a comforting aroma, but just like every day, it only serves as a reminder of what is to come. Mom greeted me with a warm smile, her eyes filled with love and concern. "Good morning, Luc," she said, her voice carrying a hint of worry she couldn't quite conceal. Does she see the turmoil brewing inside me, or am I just another disappointment in her eyes? I wonder.

"Morning," I mumbled back, feeling a pang of guilt for not being able to meet her gaze.

Dad's presence at the table is like a looming shadow, his eyes briefly leaving the newspaper to focus on me. His question about the reading assignment felt more like a taunt than genuine concern.

"Did you practice your magic last night?" he asked, his tone expectant. I nodded, my voice barely above a whisper as I kept my eyes trained on the floor. It had become a habit of mine.

"Yeah, I finished," I replied softly, but even to my own ears, it sounded unconvincing.

"Good, good," Dad replied, but there was a tightness in his tone that told me my answer wasn't quite satisfactory. "You're doing great, Luc," he said, his voice wavering, with sadness or pride, I will never know. His encouragement, though well-meaning, only added to the concerns pressing down on my shoulders. His hand landed on my back in a reassuring pat, but the gesture felt more like a heavyweight than a comforting touch. "Just keep working hard, and you'll achieve great things."

I nodded, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach my eyes. Accepting his praise felt like receiving a challenge I'm not sure I can live up to. The gap between his expectations and my reality felt wider than ever, and each word of encouragement felt like another brick added to the wall of pressure closing in around me. The conversation at the breakfast table drifted to mundane topics - the weather, chores that needed to be done around the house, and the upcoming village fair. But underneath it all, there was an unspoken tension, a silent understanding that today, like every other day, will be...well you know now I suppose.

Mom's worry was palpable in the way she glanced at Dad before speaking as if seeking reassurance or confirmation. "Luc, darling," she began, her voice gentle yet laced with concern, "you know that once you enter the academy in the capital, you'll discover the true potential of your magic. You'll learn things there that you can't even imagine right now. It's your path, your destiny."

Dad nodded in agreement, his expression serious as he added, "You have a gift, Luc. A gift that sets you apart, that makes you capable of extraordinary things. You'll be a hero, a saviour to many, once you harness your abilities fully."

Their words are like a double-edged sword, cutting through my uncertainty with promises of greatness while also reminding me of the immense pressure resting on my shoulders. I wanted to believe them, to find solace in their faith in me, but the weight of expectations felt suffocating at times.

"I know you can do it, Luc," Mom continued her tone encouraging but tinged with worry. "Just stay focused and keep working hard. You'll see, everything will fall into place."

Their words are meant to be a source of motivation, a reminder of my potential, but they only serve to deepen my sense of unease. The academy, with its promises of unlocking my true abilities, felt like a ray of hope and a looming challenge I'm not sure I was ready for.

As I retreated to my room, Dad's words echoed in my mind, haunting me with their unattainable expectations. "You'll achieve great things." The phrase replays like a broken record, a constant reminder of the lofty standards I'm expected to meet. It's past 8 A.M, and I know Leo and Canary will be here anytime now. I gathered my school bag, my mind already heavy with thoughts of the day ahead. Stepping out the door, I found Leo and Canary waiting for me at the edge of our yard.

"Hey, Luci! Ready for another adventure?" Leo exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with excitement. I forced a smile, trying desperately to mirror their contagious enthusiasm. "Yeah, of course!" I replied, but beneath the facade, the weight of jealousy and loneliness threatened to suffocate me. As we trudged along the familiar path to school together, every step seemed to amplify the ache in my chest. I can't help but cast envious glances at Leo and Canary, whose laughter and easy friendship only serve as a stark reminder of what I lack. They don't carry the same burden of expectations and pressure that I do. I hate myself for envying my best friends, the ones who are always with me, and who never make me feel different. But why do they seem so distant even though they are so close to me?

The village school is a modest building, its walls worn with age but filled with the laughter of children. I took my seat in the classroom, surrounded by classmates who saw me as nothing more than the boy with the golden eyes. They whisper amongst themselves, speculating about my supposed magical abilities.

Leo and Canary, being six and eight months older than me respectively, are in a class higher. Their absence in my class only added to the sense of isolation I felt. They're free from the constant scrutiny and expectations that weigh me down.

The teacher entered the classroom, her smile warm but her eyes carrying that familiar look of expectation. "Good morning, class!" she chirped, drawing everyone's attention to the front. "Today, we have a special guest speaker from the academy. He's here to talk about the potential for greatness that lies within each of you."

My heart sank as I heard those words. I know what's coming next—the teacher's usual spiel about me being a prodigy, destined for heroic feats. It's a narrative she's crafted over the years, one that only served to fuel the jealousy and resentment of my classmates.

But today, something is different. Instead of launching into her usual speech, the teacher presented us with a complex mathematical theory problem, one that even the older students found challenging. Murmurs of confusion rippled through the classroom as everyone struggled to make sense of the problem.

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But not me. For once, my mind felt clear and focused. The numbers and equations aligned in my head, forming a solution that seemed almost too simple. With a sense of determination, I raised my hand.

The teacher's eyes lit up, as she called on me. "Yes, Lucifer?"

With a steady voice, I explained my solution, breaking down the problem step by step. As I spoke, a hush fell over the classroom, my classmates watching in awe as I unravelled the complexities of the problem before them.

When I finished, the teacher's smile was genuine, her pride evident as she applauded my effort. "Well done, Lucifer!" she exclaimed. "That was an excellent demonstration of problem-solving skills. You truly have a gift for mathematics."

Her praise washed over me like a wave of relief. For once, I felt seen for something other than my golden eyes. At that moment, I was not the boy burdened by expectations but a student capable of achieving greatness on his own terms. But even as the applause died down and my classmates returned to their work, I couldn't shake the feeling of loneliness that lingered within me. Despite my victory, it felt like I was still the outsider, still the boy who doesn't quite belong.

"He's just lucky to have those eyes."

"He's not that special, I bet he can't even do real magic."

The teacher's words of praise felt hollow to me now, like a broken record playing the same tune over and over again. "Lucifer is an exemplary student," she declared, her voice carrying to every corner of the room. "He excels in his studies and shows great potential. I wouldn't be surprised if he becomes a hero one day."

Her words only served to instigate the bullies in the class. They exchanged knowing glances and smirks, their words laced with sarcasm. "Oh, wow, the great hero-to-be," one of them muttered loud enough for me to hear. "I'm sure those golden eyes will save us all."

I swallow hard, trying to ignore the jabs and taunts. All I want is to blend in, to be seen as just another kid, not some mythical figure destined for greatness. But no matter how hard I tried, the label of "hero" followed me everywhere, a burden I could never escape. I clenched my fists, my jaw tight with frustration. I bit back the retort that threatened to spill from my lips. I don't want to give them the satisfaction of seeing me react. But inside, I seethed with anger and frustration. Why can't they see me for who I am, not for some idealized version of a hero? I wanted to shout, to defend myself against their taunts, but I knew it was futile. No matter what I say or do, their perception of me won't change. I'm forever branded as the boy with the golden eyes, a symbol of something they couldn't understand.

The lessons passed in a blur, my mind drifting in and out of focus. I answered questions mechanically, my thoughts elsewhere.

During recess, the bullies' taunts and jeers escalated into outright bullying. They cornered me near the edge of the ground, their sneers and mocking laughter echoing in my ears.

"Look, it's the golden-eyed freak!" one of them shouted, drawing the attention of other kids nearby.

"Yeah, what's the big deal about him? He's just a weirdo," another chimed in, fueling the fire of mockery.

Their words cut deep, like knives twisting in my chest. I tried to walk away, to ignore them, but they blocked my path, closing in with malicious grins.

"Can you cast a spell to make yourself disappear, golden eyes?" one sneered, shoving me hard against the playground bars.

I stumbled and nearly fell, catching myself at the last moment. The pain in my palms where they scraped against the metal bars is nothing compared to the ache in my heart.

"Come on, show us some real magic!" another bully jeered.

The other kids around me watched, some with amusement and others with discomfort, but no one stepped in to help.

"Leave me alone," I managed to say, my voice trembling with anger and frustration.

"Why should we? You think you're better than us with those stupid eyes?" the supposed leader sneered, getting closer until I could feel his hot breath on my face.

I clenched my fists, fighting back tears of humiliation. "I don't think I'm better than anyone. Just let me go."

But they continued their torment, pushing me around like a ragdoll, their words like daggers aimed at my already wounded spirit. The weight of their expectations and the jealousy of others crush down on me, suffocating me with a sense of isolation and helplessness.

It's Leo and Canary's arrival that finally puts an end to the bullying, their presence a shield against the relentless cruelty. They stepped in between me and the bullies, their expressions a mixture of anger and concern.

"Back off, jerks. Leave him alone!" Leo's voice was sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade.

"Stop being such cowards and picking on someone smaller than you," Canary added, her eyes flashing with defiance.

The bullies grumbled and cursed but ultimately backed away, knowing they couldn't win against Leo and Canary's united front.

Leo helped me up, his grip reassuring as he whispered, "Don't listen to them, Luci. They're just jealous because they're not as special as you."

Canary nodded in agreement, her support a lifeline in the sea of hostility. "You're amazing, Luci. Ignore them."

Their words of support and protection should have brought me comfort, but instead, they only magnified my sense of inadequacy. Their bravery in standing up for me highlighted my own perceived weaknesses. As they spoke of my uniqueness and potential greatness, all I could hear were echoes of the same expectations that burdened me daily.

I managed a nod of gratitude, but as soon as the bullies retreated, I turned and ran. I ran away from the playground, away from the stares and whispers, away from Leo and Canary's well-meaning but suffocating protection. The weight of everyone's expectations bore down on me like a heavy cloak, each step I took was a reminder of the pressure to be something I wasn't sure I could ever become. The words "hero," "magician," and "saviour" reverberated in my mind, mocking me with their unattainable promises.

I found myself in a secluded spot near the edge of the school grounds, hidden from view but unable to escape the turmoil within me. Tears welled up in my eyes, not from the physical pain of the bullying but from the deep-seated emotional wounds that festered beneath the surface.

"I can't protect anyone," I whispered to myself, the words a bitter realization of my own shortcomings. "I'm just a kid with golden eyes, nothing more." I cried out, unable to hold it any longer.

How could I ever be a hero or a magician

'when I couldn't even see mana, the essence of magic itself?'

I can't, I can't use magic...I screamed.

Everyone believed in my potential, but I struggled to see it myself. The bullies' words echoed in my mind, taunting me with my perceived limitations. The tears flowed freely now, my shoulders shaking with the weight of my insecurities. Leo and Canary's voices called out to me in the distance, but I couldn't face them, couldn't bear to let them see my vulnerability. In that moment of despair, I felt utterly alone, trapped between the expectations of others and my own doubts. The prospect of becoming a hero seemed like an impossible dream, a fantasy that crumbled under the harsh light of reality.

And so, I remained there, hidden in the shadows, grappling with the harsh truth that sometimes, 'No matter how much others believed in you, believing in yourself was the hardest battle of all.'