Everyone was shocked.

It was widely known that my internal energy was rather weak and thus they expected nothing to write home about, but at 5 years old it was surprising to not feel anything at all.

While they were shocked at that, I was more shocked about something else.

‘Brother, how come?’

While I could still see the internal energy of my little brother about whom I had ambiguous feelings, I couldn’t feel his energy. Not one ounce of energy could be felt seeping out of him. No, that wasn’t quite accurate.

The energy he released was really normal for a kid his age, but nothing compared to the energy he exuded at even weeks ago.

The guests were none the wiser about what was being smuggled right under of their noses.

Three abnormalities were standing together in that room, me the 1 in a million cripple, brother the 1 in a million genius and the one that had been chosen to replace me and who had his well-functioning core tampered with for the sake of his mission.. a taboo in mage society.

Or so I assumed.

How likely was it for the son of father’s servant to both look like me, and to also have failing core otherwise?

Everyone’s attention was on the double.

If they had felt like it, they would have most likely noticed that something was wrong with me, but being the child of a servant, no one even looked in my direction; and the baby brother was totally inconspicuous. The only one who seemed to know something was up, as he was most likely involved in the trick, was a man wearing a half mask, sat with the Galvrungs. The man looked at the kids that were entering the room, and then quickly at me, who was trying my best to disappear. I couldn’t quite say why, but his mana felt different.

He stared at me, his cold inquisitive eyes gleaming with a sinister smile that showed all his teeth. The entire world seemed to darken. His presence grew terrifying, and I could almost feel myself buckle under the pressure.

‘What the-‘

A droplet of sweat slid down my face.

Before the room went back to normal.

This terrifying moment that felt like an eternity only lasted a second or so for everyone else. His face soon went back to normal, and he started clapping for the celebrated children.

As he started, his loud claps quelled the murmurs and after him, one and then two and then 10 and then everyone started clapping for the hosts of the ceremony and the one being celebrated.

While the entry of the king was melodious and solemn, the entry of the hosts was more rough around the edges, and would have been awkward if it wasn’t for this man starting the applause.

They then went on the stage. Father was dressed in a black and gold ceremonial robe, with his scabbard to his side, his usual rowdy mane pulled back into a tight and neat ponytail that looked unnatural on him.

Mother, as pretty as usual, wore a contrasting white gown, wearing on her face a thin hollow smile.

Their “first-born son” was crowned with a black mane of hair, hairs so dark no reflection could be seen from them. His attire was white too, as if to contrast with his hair. He was dressed in a white robe perfectly fitted to him, with a red undergarment that climbed up his neck.

His hair was adorned with a golden metallic headband, clarifying that he was one of the celebrated.

Brother was there, but I didn’t care.

At the sight of this usurper wearing everything that should have been mine, up to my face and my hair; anger swelled in my heart.

‘You —‘

My face flushed, and I was suddenly happy I had a mask to conceal it. Still this pointless anger was all I could do.

If I stepped out of bound here, the only logical consequence would be death. I swallowed it, self hate and powerlessness building inside alongside a corroding anger.

As they arrived on stage, mother and the baby stood in the back while father advanced with the celebrated to the king.

He walked with a steadfast step full of dignity; his hands were crossed, hidden in his sleeves. As he advanced, his scabbard swung too, even at this event father was ready to fight if it came to that.

His “son” walked behind him, trying his best to imitate his “father”. As father got up to the king, he hugged him tightly.

The escort of the king cursed at its own lax altitude and shuddered at the fact that he hadn’t noticed he was too close to the king until it was too late.

He reflexively got his hands to his scabbard, eyes both filled with anger and embarrassment, and almost pulled out his sword.

“At ease,” the king said in a low but powerful voice.

He then reciprocated the hug.

This was already odd, and attendees watched in silence.

Father said, as if totally unaware of who he was talking to and what he had just done. “Hahaha, Ryven, you’ve really let yourself go!”

Everyone in the room looked at him in shock, some displeased, others sneering at the stupid remark, others shaking their head.

The Flying Hound would die, they thought.

“Look at you talking. This haircut of yours looks so unnatural. What are you? A doll?” The emperor clapped back without blinking, laughing hard enough to make his royal bottom fall right off.

Everyone looked at him, even more shocked.

‘He’s not angry?’

They had every right to be. I wasn’t, my face smug.

In this kingdom, no one was exempt from military service, might made right. No self-respecting mage or warrior would obey a coddled noble who had never seen the color of blood.

Among the four kings, his career on the battlefield was impressive enough. Reaching his minimum quota of campaign points in a relatively short time and leaving enough of an impression on the soldiers to earn his first moniker: The Crushing Boulder. Indeed, his affinity had nothing to do with fire. He was actually an earth mage, and on the battlefield he was he was ruthless and unyielding.

This moniker of Fiery Emperor of Hell was given to him after he retired from the battlefield and became king, as the amount of heads that had rolled for remarks less offensive than the one just uttered by Gregoire’s master was significant. This was why him taking the remark so well, and even clapping back was so surprising.

“He did it again,” said Gregoire with a proud smile

I looked at him, confused. ‘What’

“Jeremy, I don’t know how useful this will be for you. But know this, raw strength alone means nothing in the face of true power and influence,” He whispered.

I pondered about these mysterious words for a while. I couldn’t quite get their meaning, but it seemed the adults in the room all understood completely. Some were smiling, while others were dejected.

What Nathanael had just done, more than him being clumsy, was a show of how powerful he was.

‘Hey fools, I can get away with that’

He wasn’t foolish enough to think this position was maintainable forever without his firstborn showing some promise, and without heavily greasing the paw of the king while playing on the friendship they had gained while they roamed battlefields together.

He knew that even with this, eventually, some clans of the Dark Heavens would try to take the place his great Ancestor had won centuries back.

This is why, after his little show with the king, he pulled out an energy reading device from the inside of his sleeve.

“Brothers and sisters, first things first. Thank you for attending this celebration and taking some of your important time to come celebrate with me the birth of my newborn and the re-evaluation of my firstborn.”

He stopped — adorning an expression that would have been best fitted to a philosopher — and walked on the stage.

‘That seems too proper,’ I said to myself.

“I know that you all had already gathered here 5 years ago, which is why I am even more grateful to all of you for your repeated attendance.”

“I had pleaded for your clemency and asked for an extension. This extension was to end when he turned 5…”

“… After all, how could I stand in front of you all as a mage if my firstborn didn’t qualify to stand among us”

At these words, I lowered my gaze. My chest hurting.

He continued unashamedly.

He then looked at the gift table and smiled, saying, “And looking at what’s there, and the aura it exudes, you guys surely didn’t skimp on the gifts”

‘Ah yeah, that’s dad,’ I said, laughing half-heartedly to myself. I was angry at him but still somewhat yearning for his love again. Making this feeling of self-hate growing a tad bit more.

“But I know you guys are also slarks, after all aren’t we the Dark Heavens, you will only follow the strong will you? You’ll devour us mercilessly if we’re injured will you?”

As he said that, he pulled a measuring device out of his pocket. “My son that you see over there, while he has pathetically low internal energy at the moment,” he said shaking his head

“Somehow inherited my terrifyingly awesome affinity with darkness,” He said in a boast.

“Let me now prove you all, that with enough nurturing, this kid will become the leader of you all!” He said outrageously.

I knew he was lying, but I was also expecting for the groups to at least feign a reaction.

But, while what he said was outrageous and outright incendiary, no one really seemed angry at it. They all seemed used to his rude attitude, and all had at least a semblance of smile and amicableness on their face, everyone except the Galvrungs.

They seemed bored with this all, and they did no effort to hide it.

“Anyhow, son, come over here,” he said as he pulled a measuring device from his sleeve. A transparent, glass-like sphere,”

The first born “son” advanced steadfastly and looked at the crowd with a shy gaze. He obviously didn’t want to be there.

“Now for it, to be clear for you all to see, turn off the lights.”

As he said that, the lights turned off completely. It wasn’t pitch black, as somehow the ground emitted a dim yellowish light.

He then gave the ball to the stand in, “inject your energy into the ball.”

“Yes, father,” the stand in answered.

‘you —‘

*Ziong*

An electromagnetic sound could be heard as a dim purple light appeared from inside the ball. That was what was supposed to happen to me that day.

He maintained the energy for about 10 seconds, and soon.

*Clap clap*

*Clap clap clap clap*

Thunderous claps exploded from the public. Father smiled, thriving on the scene before waving with his hands for the room to quiet.

“Good, good as you can see, he isn’t anything special core wise, but give him some time and he won’t have to shy away from even me!”

He laughed with his usual goofiness.

He then clapped, and the light turned back on, “Now, now, now”

“Let’s proceed to the whole point of this event, why you all came here?” And as he said that, he waved at mother who advanced, still wearing a hollow smile.

“Hello to you all guests.

“It fills me with pleasure to see you all here assembled to come together to celebrate this very important event for this firstborn son. Those who spoke before me have already said it, but you, honored guests, taking your times to come here and assist to this, fills my heart with happiness”

As her word came, the face of everyone in the audience, but most particularly the males, reddened as they smiled. Mother’s charming face and soothing voice had a powerful impact on them. Even the Galvrungs, who had been deadpan this whole time — even as they clapped — now wore a thin but noticeable smile.

“The name that shall today be bestowed on this firstborn is a name that we hoped would bring him luck and strength. A name that I sincerely hoped would give him the power and determination to persevere. A name that symbolizes the intelligence needed to outwit any challenges he may have had to face in the future. This is the name I, we wished to give our son at this event,” As she spoke calmly and elegantly, scanning the room. I felt like her eyes lingered a bit upon me as she said this last sentence.

My heart churned and my eyes got misty.

Father then took the lead, holding mother’s hand at the same time. “That’s why our firstborn son, shall be known as Sorre Balmung”

As these words were said, a thunderous clapping exploded for a second time. I pulled heavily on Gregoire’s sleeve and asked to excuse myself. He scanned the room, noticing no one was taking notice of us and allowed it, maybe because he felt something in my shaking voice. As I got permission, I walked as solemnly as possible, while clapping to make it look like I was going to fetch something.

Even if I had bolted with this noise, and the current mood, no one would have taken notice. I went to the backyard, farthest location from the ceremonial room within the manor.

Once there, I looked at the clear azure sky; I listened to the hallows that seemed to bless this day with their song; I felt the warm sunrays kiss my skin and there I clenched my teeth.

I breathed in, my face contorted in pain, and tears flowing yet again from the corner of my eyes.

In this idyllic place, I yelled.

I yelled hard enough to rupture my vocal chords; I yelled until my throat was parched and in pain. I yelled in anger, in frustration, in jealousy.

I yelled so hard that I coughed blood.

The tears that I had been reining in since mother had started speaking, my weakness, I hated it; I hated all of it.

This powerlessness.

This uselessness.

This weakness.

I swore this day that I’d eradicate them.

“you will regret casting me away”. I repeated like a curse. Shattering in my mind the last thoughts of ever looking at him again as a father.

On this day, the sadness and yearning, the hope… all of it died. Leaving behind nothing but a black and murky hate, a fiery and all-consuming inferno.