Compared to other common human, a girl named Miliana had a very beautiful everyday life. Even among humans, the might and constitution possessed by the Famaris race were head and shoulders above the rest. Their vigorous bodies and the superiority of the strength they employed granted them peerless fighting strength. They boasted the title of the mightiest of all human races. The single weakness the Famaris possessed was their crushingly low population. A race dedicated to producing the mightiest individuals did not give birth to great numbers, and so, despite their strength, the Famaris race was obliged to reside in poor tribal villages deep within the Great Plains. Because they were a race dwelling far from other humanoid habitation, there were strict taboos among the Famaris to protect their limited numbers. To their race, Magic is abominations. This was one of the unbreakable laws of Famaris kind. By nature, Famaris are born with blood red hair and bright scarlet eyes. They don't have a capability to use magic and because of that they see magic as a weapon for weaklings. Their greatly heighten combat capabilities is the pride of their race. But his brother was born with brown hair and an affinity with magic. Among Famaris, the "magic user" was considered the wastes of society. Having an affinity was cause for ridicule. His brother has something deeply precious from the moment of their birth. What else could he be but abominations? And so, it was taught that her brother was to be discarded immediately. The fate of his brother has to have ended then and there. And it would have, had she not displayed her gift from the heavens with a tremendous strength even for a Famris at the very moment the chief, having made that bitter decision, was about to render judgment by his own hand. The older sister was named Milliana; the younger, Cfyern. Both occupied the lowest steps on the ladder among the tribe. Their daily lives were far from pleasant. Even though his brother lives had been spared, they were still siblings. Both were treated as worthless from the beginning and raised inhospitably by their people. In spite of their connection by blood, their own parents acted distantly toward them. Their fellow tribesmen did not hide their contempt for his brother "abomination." For both of them, it was the worst childhood imaginable. The hostility continued until the Famaris realized what they were capable of— or more precisely, until the older sister became aware of it herself.

The most accurate term describing Miliana during childhood was spectacular child. She had talent that exceeded even that of great Famaris throughout their storied history. Indeed, their entire race was enthralled by the beauty of Miliana’s inherited blood heritage, which allowed her to use a vast amount of strength in spite of her youth. Her demeanor was as forthright, pure red hair and bright scarlet eyes, lacking any hint of becoming drunk on her own might and potential, making it seem natural for their brethren to bow their heads before her. It was very special treatment for a girl who was not yet ten years of age. Even their cold and distant parents, even their kin who had openly scorned them, even the chief who had tried to slay his brother shortly after birth—all were speechless before Miliana's authority. She was destined from birth to become the pinnacle of the Famaris race, the mightiest of all human races. Members of a race that prized individual strength were flawless in their politeness toward an individual with such power. And yet, Miliana never once used the tribe's reverence for her own benefit. All Cfyern could do was stumble down her older sister's path to glory. He had no abilities above the norm. His strength was strictly average, with his body's capabilities in line with what a normal Famaris with only the brown haired could do. Compared to Miliana, he did not have a shred of confidence; he cowered behind her sister's back like a shadow.

One night, Miliana awoke, unable to sleep well because of the heat. She slid off the wooden bed and pulled the blankets off her sweat-covered body. When Miliana looked around, she suddenly realized that her younger brother, always sleeping beside her, was gone. I have to look for my little brother right away, she thought. I have to go outside —but only then did Miliana belatedly notice the source of the warmth—flames that enveloped her home.

When she touched the doorknob, she yanked her hand back from its heat. At that moment, the truth sank in. Miliana's sleepy sense of smell was awoken by the scent of something burning. Instantly, she used her solid body to break the door down and dash out of the house enveloped in the hellish flames. She didn't know why this had happened, but she obeyed her instincts to flee, to get outside. Miliana kicked apart the brittle fence and rushed from her home to the outside world.

In the center of the tribal village was a pile of scorched bodies. The burning houses and flame-swept trees had turned her familiar world into a reddish hell in one night. When Miliana saw the faces of her parents among the corpses engulfed by the flames, she immediately abandoned all rational thought and fell to her knees then and there. Miliana remained kneeling as a group of men dressed in purple robes steadily surrounded her. Even up close, the deep shadows of their hoods hid their faces until they were very close; even then, they were not the faces she would recognize. However, Miliana did not sense a single trace of kindness from them; a smile came over her that seemed unfamiliar on her cheeks. That smile was the one that hid her despair for the good of everyone else. The figures did not respond in the slightest to the expression or the pain behind it.

The shadows approached her, raising their hands and swinging the glimmering steel blades within them down at the girl—but their heads flew off in the next moment. Blood, in a single moment, four lives had been taken with such skill that the heads never raised a shout, never even realized what had happened.

The familiar feel of the vigor pulsing at her skin instantly told Miliana it was her who did it. Then she remembers her little brother, she needs to find him. She didn't even need to look around. Her eyes located her younger brother immediately. The face of his brother was warped with grief. The older sister ran over to embrace the younger, sighing with relief and relaxing her body when she realized Cyfern was unharmed. Cyfern hugged his sister back, never feeling more pathetic, or happier, in his life.

Miliana did not clearly remember what happened next. She thought that she'd leave everything up to whoever the higher power is. That was the best. That was right. And yet, they had been surrounded before she realized it. Even with silhouettes so numerous they formed a wall, Miliana looked at them in a daze, still believing that somehow they will overcome it. Her brother pushed before her, straining herself yelling. Tears flowed from her cheeks; her body seemed to shrink as she made a desperate plea. Then they hurled his older sister to the ground, Cyfern felt distraught. To look down at her sister was to contradict her way of life. To stand behind his sister, to hide behind his back, was what brought meaning to his existence. He screamed. He returned to his feet and spread his hands out before him. He unleashed his magic. The power would flow through her sister, and invisible blades would descend upon the world, slicing everything around them. But the moment before unleashing it, her sister run to him, embraced Cyfern —then, an impact.

—Finally. It finally ends.