As the pressure in the hall surged some students whispering, some practically vibrating with excitement, and others already looking pale Vant casually slipped away from the main crowd. He found an empty, half-hidden seat at the edge of the grand amphitheater, slouched down, and exhaled a slow stream of nebula-blue smoke.
Iris, naturally, trailed behind him like a star stuck in his orbit. Humming a cheerful little tune, she raised her hand and conjured a tiny glimmering device mid-air a golden pin, glowing faintly with runes. In mere moments, it was followed by a set of shimmering rings and bracelets, all radiating soft pulses of mana. She wore them like jewelry, but Vant knew better.
Artificer Magic.
A bloodline ability born from the fusion of Metal Magic and Enhancer Magic, a rare mutation passed through generations of high-end magical engineers. Some families got money. Others got political power. But Iris's family? They got craftsmanship woven into their DNA.
Yeah, that's the wild part about being born into a longline of magic-rich families. You don't just get a good education. You get something inhumanly unique like literally being able to forge magic gear on the fly as part of your spellcasting.
Was it cheating?
Nope.
That's the insane part.
Not even close.
In fact, it was encouraged.
You could prep anything you wanted for the evaluation: potions, charms, auto-casting glyphs, enchanted clothing hell, even pre-summoned familiars if you had the mana to sustain them.
As long as it was your own magic, it was legal.
So what was cheating?
Easy. Outside help.
Get your older brother to make you an artifact? F-class.
Have your private tutor inject pre-encoded spells into your wand? Double F.
Buy a forbidden scroll from the black market? Enjoy the gates.
That kind of cheating?
Automatic disqualification.
F-Class.
No arguments.
No appeals.
But Iris? She was golden. Every last piece of enchanted gear came from her own two hands, her own runes, her own spells. They glittered and clinked as she adjusted her rings, her confidence radiant.
And Vant?
He just watched with a half-lidded gaze, smoke curling past his lips.
"Yeah... must be nice," he muttered under his breath, his tone unreadable.
But Iris just winked, as if she'd heard him.
"Well, I am nice. So stay close, Mister Broody. I might make you something shiny if you survive this."
Vant exhaled again. "I'll try not to die of excitement."
The hall buzzed louder gasps, whispers, shrieks an audible ripple of awe tearing through the crowd like a sonic wave. Vant, lounging as always with smoke slipping past his lips, barely shifted his gaze.
White hair. Golden eyes.
The light that could blind in a room full of mages.
Aria.
Of course it was her.
He smirked.
Unlike him, who kept things lowkey, Aria had been the center of attention since literal birth. Her name made headlines the moment she opened her eyes. The only heir born with both Light and Dark attributes she was the prodigy everyone couldn't shut up about.
And now?
Swarmed by freshmen.
Autograph hounds. Spell nerds. Fanboys and fangirls.
Every single one of them reaching, shouting, asking
"Lady Aria! What's it like casting Equinox?!"
"Can I see your dual spell!? Just once !"
"Sign my staff! PLEASE!!"
Vant leaned back and let out a chuckle.
Yeah, good luck with that.
Aria, ever elegant, simply smiled and closed her eyes. A single motion her hand raised, fingers poised.
And then
Flash. Blink. Gone.
Shrieks tore through the crowd as she vanished into sparkles of twilight Equinox Magic.
The same magic as the current Wizard King.
And before Iris could even blink
Pop.
Aria materialized right in front of them, her presence like an eclipse glorious, calm, and impossibly radiant.
Iris dropped the enchanted ring she was prepping her jaw going slack.
The girl in front of her…
The one now ruffling Vant's hair like some neighborhood big sister…
Was considered the next Wizard King.
"Awawawawawawa…" Iris sputtered.
"L-L-Lady Licht Darkven! I-It's… it's an honor!!" she blurted, bowing so low her forehead nearly kissed the floor.
Aria chuckled like a gentle breeze.
"Fufufu… You make such a cute friend, Vanty."
Vanty?
Iris's brain crashed. LADY ARIA KNOWS VANT?!
"I thought you weren't coming," Vant said lazily, eyes only half-open.
"And miss my little brother's big day?" she grinned. "Yeah, in your dreams."
They laughed real laughs the kind only siblings who actually loved each other shared.
Aria reached out and ruffled his hair again, gentle but fond.
"Don't push yourself too hard, Vanty."
He nodded. And just like before vanished.
Gone in a shimmer of Equinox.
Iris's mouth was still wide open. Her fingers trembled as Vant turned to her, index finger on his lips like a smug little gremlin.
"Shhh…"
She wanted to scream.
VANT IS LADY ARIA'S LITTLE BROTHER?!?!
How?! How was this not world news?!
No rivalry?! No blood feud for inheritance?!
Just genuine, warm sibling love between two of the most powerful magical bloodlines?
UNHEARD OF.
Unfair didn't even begin to describe it.
Iris sat frozen, her brain officially bricked.
Meanwhile, Vant just puffed smoke and leaned back with a look that said:
Yeah. That happened.
Iris was already leaning way too close, eyes sparkling with the same intensity as a freshly conjured gem.
"Wait wait wait what's your attribute? What's it like being a Licht Darkven? Is it true your family has a private floating archipelago? Do you guys really bathe in mana-infused water? How's Lady Aria's casting speed compared to the current Wizard King? Do you have a dragon?!"
All in a hushed tone barely audible. But the excitement? Deafening.
Vant just chuckled, letting her finish her spiral before gently lifting a hand.
She went deadly still.
He cupped his fingers lazily, and with a small exhale of breath
A circular magic circle formed, delicate and glowing azure blue, swirling gently just above his fingertips. It shimmered like a polished gemstone, suspended in the air.
Iris gasped softly.
That color azure.
Not orange. Not crimson. Not violet or silver or green.
Azure. The color of pure mana.
Magic circles took on the hue of their attribute a basic magical principle. But this? This was the raw, undiluted manifestation of mana itself. The root of all magic.
So rare, it bordered on myth.
Vant's lips curled. "Ever heard of Havoc Magic?"
Iris blinked. "Havoc? Uh... no?"
He expected that. Most people didn't.
"Havoc Magic is kind of... obscure," he said, voice soft. "It's attack-based, born from the evolution of slice and wind magic. But it only manifested when those merged with elven bloodlines."
Her eyes widened.
"It's actually my father's second attribute. Not many people use it. It's documented, sure, but buried deep in the Arcane Codex. Ever read that thing?"
She gave him a look. "It's got millions of pages and magically updates daily. No one reads it front to back."
"Exactly," he said with a lazy shrug.
Iris felt a small weight on her shoulder Vant's hand, giving her a friendly pat.
"My attribute? Let's just say... it's derived from Havoc. That's all I can tell you."
Then, that lazy, secretive smirk again.
"As for my family… I'd consider it normal."
Iris froze.
She turned her head slowly, eyes narrowing.
Normal?
Normal?
What kind of normal has Equinox Magic for a sister, two patriarch-level parents, and mana so pure it gleams like heaven's forge?
Normal?!
His pocket lint could probably buy out her entire family's forge business and the street it sits on.
But she didn't call him out. She just exhaled a long, dazed breath and muttered:
"You're the kind of humble that hurts."
Vant grinned wider.
"And you're the kind of curious that talks too much."
She elbowed him lightly.
Still dazed.
Still spiraling.
But yeah she swore on her family name.
And to mages, an oath like that?
Might as well be law.
Iris gently placed the artifacts she'd been fiddling with onto her lap, her fingers lingering on the gleaming edges. For a second, her usual spark dimmed.
"I have siblings, you know."
Vant glanced at her.
This... probably isn't going to be sunshine and hugs.
"My brother's an egotistical maniac," she said flatly. "Got himself exiled from the family after trying to mix curses into body enhancement magic. Said it was 'the next evolution.'"
She scoffed.
"My sister's worse. She tried to drown me when I was four. Claimed she was helping me 'float' Mother caught her in the act." Iris rolled her eyes. "She cried like an actress on stage. Everyone bought it... except me."
Vant stayed quiet. Iris didn't stop.
"And my little brother? Don't get me started. A talent-spammed brat who thinks hard work is optional if you're born gifted. He copies spells like he's brewing tea. Meanwhile, I clawed my way up with artifacts and sleepless nights. The only reason I'm still in the succession game is because, well... only my insane brother and I have rare attributes."
She let out a breath.
"So yeah. Seeing you and your sister? Laughing, talking like that? It makes me... jealous."
Blunt. Honest. No sugarcoating. Vant respected that.
He leaned back slightly, arms crossed.
"I've had cousins and uncles try to kill me and Aria," he said casually, like commenting on the weather.
Iris blinked. "Wait. What?"
"Assassins, staged accidents, poisoned mana rations you name it." He glanced down. "I lost part of myself during one of those attempts."
He slowly rolled up his sleeve, revealing a prosthetic arm. A sleek, silvery alloy took the place of what should've been flesh. Gently humming with mana, it caught the light with eerie grace.
Iris's breath caught. "Vant..."
"Don't be sorry." His voice was calm. "We all have our own monsters. That's just life. Even Merlin wasn't perfect."
Iris blinked then chuckled despite herself.
"Pffft... You're going to get scolded if you say that in public."
Vant's lips tugged into a mischievous smirk.
"Well, I am his descendant, after all."
"Iris Cloverlamp!"
"Ahh, good luck, Iris!"
"Thanks! Don't let me down, Merlin's descendant! See you in A-Class!"
The confidence. The fire. Vant smirked as she dashed toward the evaluation chamber, eyes full of ambition and resolve.
He leaned back, exhaling softly. A silvery puff of mana escaped his lips, twisting like a wisp toward the ceiling, dancing with the hazy starlight filtering through the hall's enchantments.
Then
"Well. Well. Well."
Vant glanced sideways.
Ah. Of course.
A student swaggered in, uniform practically shimmering under the glow of enchantments, overloaded with badges family crests, ancient insignias, magic house sigils. A peacock of pedigree. Typical noble.
Vant rolled his eyes internally.
Didn't want to start riots, so I left the Licht and Darkven crest off. Guess that means I'm just a regular commoner to them. He smirked to himself. Let them keep thinking that.
Unfortunately, Iris's visible family symbol had drawn attention by association, he was now a target.
How cliché.
The noble sneered, eyes narrowed. "A commoner dares sit where nobles belong?"
His entourage murmured agreement, the synchronized nodding of bobblehead yes-men.
Vant blinked slowly.
Wow.
This was a level of ego so inflated it probably had its own orbit.
Even I, born from the White and Black Towers, wouldn't stoop to this level of cringe.
With just a glance, Vant could tell this kid wasn't ordinary.
Even with his magical eye inactive, the radiant, flickering light of mana in the boy's body practically screamed to be seen. Veins of mana wrapped tightly around his core, spiraling in a refined circuit a wizard, not a mage. Mages had Saturn-like rings around their core, measuring their mastery by how many orbited them. But wizards? Wizards were different. It was all about the flow. The circuit. The symmetry.
And this boy's mana circuit? Elegant. Refined. Efficient.
Then came the attribute.
Glass Magic.
Ah mutation fusion. A rare convergence of fire and sand attributes, merged into one cohesive, almost elemental artistry. No wonder he acted like the sun shined out of his boots.
Not to mention... those ears. Slightly pointed.
Half-elf.
Three options crossed Vant's mind.
One, he's a bastard child born from a noble who couldn't resist the allure of an elven beauty. That one hit too close to home. Vant's grandfather, the previous patriarch of Darkven, had forced himself on an elven maid. Though Vant carried the bloodline, his elven lineage wasn't nearly as strong as Aria's. She leaned toward their father's side sharp, ruthless, powerful. Vant, on the other hand, inherited more from their mother: fairy blood. Just a quarter, but enough to amplify his magic to insane levels.
He was born with Overcored.
A gift.
A defect.
An anomaly.
A time bomb.
Descendants of the Wizard King one with his divine attribute. One with his fatal flaw.
Two, the darker path: families desperate for power, purchasing illegal elven slaves to breed half-elf heirs with boosted mana capacity.
Vant winced. Yikes.
Three, the sweet tale of forbidden love between elf and human.
Yeah… judging by the smug grin and entitlement dripping off every syllable, it's definitely not number three.
"Move, peasant," the boy said, voice sharp like crystal. "Lest you wish to face the wrath of the Pavonius family."
Ah.
Pavonius.
It clicked instantly in Vant's mind a near-infinite archive of mage knowledge at his disposal. The Peacock Crest. Renowned for their mastery of glasswork both magical and mundane. Old money, noble blood. Fancy business with glass enchantments and mana-infused architecture.
How fitting. All shine. All shimmer. All see-through.
"Vant!"
His name was called out, perfectly timed. The boy laughed, mistaking the absence of a surname as proof of lowborn origins.
How wrong he was.
What he didn't know and what no one was allowed to say was that every evaluator had agreed not to disclose Vant's identity.
Not nepotism.
Not shame.
Just precaution.
The world didn't need another Aria.
Not yet.
As Vant stepped into the evaluation chamber, the snickers of the Pavonius boy echoed behind him sitting smugly in Vant's previous seat, basking in his assumed victory. Vant didn't even look back.
Let him have his moment. It would be brief.
Inside the hall, the air changed.
Four evaluators sat before him, each one a figure of their own story.
The first to speak was Archmage Jakkin his long beard flowing like a mana river as he chuckled, brushing a hand through it with amused familiarity.
Then there was Miranda Flowerlip, vibrant as ever, her enchanted quill already scribbling away even though Vant hadn't said a word. She was the type who saw the layers beneath silence.
To her right sat a disheveled mess of a man unshaven, sleep-deprived, dark circles deep enough to store secrets. His unkempt ponytail made him look like he'd lost a duel with a tornado. He snored softly, drool glinting with faint magical sparkles. His robe was stained with ink and crumbs. Vant didn't recognize him, but his presence felt oddly... heavy.
Then the final evaluator a pristine, composed woman with sleek brown hair and glasses that glowed faintly with identification enchantments. Her eyes remained closed, but her senses were anything but dull. She nudged the sleeping man with a sharp elbow.
"My, my," she hummed, her voice refined, dripping with academic sarcasm. "What do we have here? That boy doesn't even have mana. Archmage Jakkin, are we lowering the bar this year?"
Jakkin burst into laughter, deep and knowing. "Oh, if only it were that simple."
Both evaluators knew exactly what they were seeing or rather, what they weren't seeing.
Overcored.
A defect to most. A disaster to others. But to the chosen few? A legacy.
His mana didn't flare. It didn't pulse or scream.
It simply was.
Mana drifted around him, not radiating but existing. Most would dismiss it as ambient energy mana haze in the air, nothing more than atmospheric residue.
But this wasn't random.
It was him.
Vant's body exuded mana passively, naturally. A phenomenon passed down from the one and only Wizard King, Merlin himself. The world was still soaked in mana generations after his death because even in death, his Overcored heart continued to birth mana into the world.
And now, another stood before them.
Cut from the same cloth.
Jakkin stroked his beard with a grin that could split mountains.
"Let's see what kind of storm you are, boy."
"Now, now why don't you tell us your name first?" the pristine evaluator asked, forcing calm back into her voice.
Vant took a slow drag from his ornate pipe, the end glowing faintly with mana. As he exhaled, a trail of shimmering smoke danced upward, forming the silhouette of a starburst before dispersing into the still air.
He lowered the pipe.
"Vant Licht Dark "
"WHAAAAAAAAT?!"
The pristine evaluator exploded in shock, nearly knocking over her chair. Her glasses slipped halfway down her nose, and for a second, the room froze as she caught them with both hands, eyes wide behind the lenses.
A single bead of sweat traced down her cheek.
"Vant Licht Darkven… Son of Rosalie Licht and Ebenholz Darkven."
Vant exhaled again, letting the smoke curl lazily as if her reaction had been expected.
He raised an eyebrow. "Judging by the response, it seems Professor Miranda and Archmage Jakkin didn't… quite inform the rest of you about my attendance."
Jakkin burst out into booming laughter, Miranda giggling behind a dainty hand. Even the hobo-like evaluator blinked awake, his messy bangs parting just enough to reveal one glowing, amused eye.
"Oh dear," Jakkin chuckled, wiping his eyes. "Looks like I forgot to mention it. Forgive me, dear colleagues it must've slipped my mind."
The sleepy one murmured, "Slipped, my ass…" and pulled out a battered notebook, flipping it open.
Vant scratched the back of his head with a sheepish smile. "It happens."
"Now tell me, boy!" Jakkin said, slamming his staff on the floor. The chamber echoed with a faint magical resonance. "Show us your magic. Your attribute. Disappoint us, if you can! I doubt it, though."
Disappoint us, if you can? Vant mused. Isn't it supposed to be 'Surprise us, if you can'?
Well. Oh well.
He closed his eyes, raised one hand and the air shifted.
A glimmer.
Then a glow.
Magic circles began to bloom beneath his feet like celestial gears. One. Then two. Then three. Then four.
Stacked. Layered. Rotating.
"Azure…" the pristine evaluator gasped. Her voice was barely a whisper now. "...Magic…?"
Miranda leaned back, chin resting on her knuckles, eyes glittering with curiosity. Jakkin's grin stretched wider. The sleepy one jolted completely awake, quill dropping from his hand.
"Impossible," the pristine one said. "Even the Wizard King's magic was magenta…"
Then Vant spoke.
"Annihilation Magic Spell: Ignite."
In the center of the stacked magic circles, a tiny flame sparked into being.
Not blue. Not violet. Not infernal red.
Azure.
And then it howled.
The flame throbbed with crackling lightning, spiraling wind, and gravity-defying force. It didn't burn it consumed. Not just heat, but mana, light, pressure. It devoured the air around it, creating a pocket of roaring stillness, like a silent scream made manifest.
It wasn't just a flame.
It was a core.
A singularity.
"W-WHAT IS THIS!?" the pristine evaluator shrieked, standing from her seat. Her glasses slipped fully off, clattering to the marble floor, forgotten.
And for just a moment, as all four evaluators stared, stunned
The Azure Flame pulsed.
And the room remembered the name Vant Licht Darkven.
Vant clasped his hands together with quiet finality, and the azure flame that thunderous, devouring core of annihilation vanished like it had never been. Silence fell. Not because the magic was gone, but because something had shifted in the air, a breath collectively held.
"The actual hell was that!?" the sleepy evaluator blurted, wide-eyed, every trace of drowsiness gone. He leaned forward, elbows on knees, visibly shaking off the shock. "Annihilation magic? What even is that?"
Archmage Jakkin didn't answer right away. He and Miranda were already sharing a look the kind of silent exchange only two people who've witnessed something like this before could afford.
Miranda spoke first, her voice calm, yet commanding.
"Annihilation magic. Possessor: one and only."
The room froze again.
"A mutation-type magic," she continued, rising to her feet now. "A fusion… no, an evolution. Havoc Magic and Gravity Magic no… Singularity Magic, am I right, Vant?"
Vant gave a slight nod. "Technically, yes. Singularity is what gravity becomes when pushed far enough."
Jakkin's voice followed, gravelly with age but no less sharp. "The first and only of its kind. I highly doubt we'll see another, considering the ingredients alone Havoc magic, which only the Darkven bloodline can inherit… and Gravity magic, a rare offshoot of Earth attributed to the Damian Licht lineage, if I remember correctly?"
Vant nodded again, this time with a tinge of pride. "That's right. My grandfather. A Light mage whose second attribute was Earth. My mother inherited that so did I."
Miranda clasped her hands behind her back, striding slowly toward the center of the room.
"A magic potentially equal to or greater than Equinox magic," she said, her voice rich with reverence and tension. "A magic that renders the standard division of spells offense, defense, utility irrelevant. A magic with only one function: obliteration."
She turned, facing Vant now, her next words deliberate.
"Tell me… is it true? That your magic has no counter?"
Vant's expression didn't change. He spoke factually, not arrogantly.
"In fourteen years, I haven't found a single spell or object capable of resisting it. Not even my sister's Equinox magic could withstand it."
The room stiffened. That was no casual claim.
He continued, "Her Heavenly Dragon Scale spell was vaporized like… like heated knife through styrofoam. We've tested it repeatedly. Sealed versions. Full power versions. Nothing holds."
That sent a ripple of disbelief across the evaluators. Equinox magic, especially in Aria's hands, was invincible. Entire academies, archmages, and national representatives had tested themselves against it and failed. She had won duels sealed, restrained, and disadvantaged beyond fairness and yet emerged without a scratch. And now…
Even that was just kindling before Vant's flames.
"Oh boy," the sleepy evaluator muttered, rubbing his temples. "I wish whoever's dueling with you the best of luck."
Vant let out a low chuckle. "Don't worry. I won't annihilate them."
"Please do so." The pristine evaluator said, half-joking, half-praying.
Vant smirked, nodding politely. "Of course not. That'd be… foul play."
The room didn't laugh.
Because they all believed him.
And they all knew if Vant so wished, there wouldn't even be ashes left.
Miranda unfolded the sealed document, her finger tapping a particular line with a soft but deliberate thud.
"Here, you're written to actually have a mana defect. Is this true?"
The sleepy evaluator, Grant, blinked. "Wait you have mana deficiency?"
Jakkin gave a low chuckle, shaking his head.
"Not all core defects are deficiencies, Grant."
Vant stayed silent for a moment, the faint trails of stellar smoke curling around his face as he casually puffed his pipe.
Jakkin leaned forward slightly, his voice steady.
"Twisted Core, Defiant Core, Cracked Core... many more. They're usually considered the magical world's version of being born disabled. But there is one defect that's... different. Only recorded once. A defect so extreme, so rare, that it became the foundation of what magic even is now."
He smiled grimly.
"Overcored. The Wizard King's Core Defect. A core that produces mana endlessly boundless, infinite, without stopping, even if the body collapses. Some even theorized it's the original source of Tellus' mana, because even after the Wizard King's death, his core still breathes magic into the world."
Grant's mouth opened slightly as understanding clicked.
"You mean…"
Vant finally spoke, his voice as calm and cold as the drifting smoke he exhaled.
"That's right. If my sister, Aria, inherited the Wizard King's attribute... then what I inherited was the Wizard King's Core Defect itself."
The pristine evaluator's hand trembled faintly against her notes.
Miranda, softer now, almost with sympathy, said,
"It must be hard... needing to inhale that magical pipe just to stabilize your core."
Vant gave another lazy puff, the cosmic haze swirling as he leaned back.
"Mages, wizards, especially the nobles… they've done the most atrocious things trying to recreate Overcored. But they don't understand. They don't understand the danger. Overcored isn't a blessing. It's a walking apocalypse."
He tapped the pipe against his boot lightly, a tiny shower of faint, shimmering embers drifting downward.
"Without this pipe... even for fifteen minutes... cracks would begin forming. My biology would mutate. Once, my blood turned completely into pure mana. I was this close to turning into fine magic dust, just like Merlin Pendragon himself."
He smiled, a hollow, almost mocking gesture.
"In theory, if I die… I'll become the second world awakening."
Another long, slow exhale of nebula-like smoke filled the tense, silent room.