The Heart Of Chaos

Seeing his hesitation, the Oracle gave him a gentle push, and with that, Abaddon managed to place his hand on the orb.

The runes on the platform began to glow with a faint blue light, forming a connection to the monument. For several seconds, nothing happened—the orb remained dark.

Abaddon began to sweat coldly. Why wasn't there any reaction? He could feel the power radiating from the orb, a pulsing warmth that seemed to reach into his very soul.

And yet, he couldn't send any energy into it. For an excruciating two minutes, the orb stayed dull. The Oracle sighed, glancing at the boy's increasingly desperate expression.

Abaddon tried everything he could, but eventually, he collapsed to his knees before the monument with his head bowed in defeat.

The atmosphere was silent, all judgemental stares looked down on him as he crumpled in shame before the monument. Nobles and guests alike watched without a word with a frozen expression. The look on Kaedryn's face said it all; shame.

With hesitation in her voice, the Oracle raised her hand and declared.

"Youngest son of House Drakon... compatibility with mantra energy is two percent. There is an absence of a soul-ore. Hence he can never become a Ranker. He is... a normal human."

The crowd erupted into murmurs, fingers pointing toward him. The young awakened Rankers looked down on him with smug and mocking smiles.

"By the gods, Impossible, this has never occurred in the house of Drakons, someone born a normal human."

Someone whispered in the crowd. As more of such comments followed.

Abaddon endured the shame and humiliation as long as he could. Overwhelmed, he stood without a word and left the Proving Grounds.

Lady Elyssia, regret visible in her eyes, quietly followed her son. Kaedryn, however, remained seated visibly furious at such a disgrace.

The other nobles took this opportunity to offer false condolences, hiding their delight. The reason was simple...as the legitimate son of Kaedryn and Elyssia, Abaddon was meant to inherit the house of Drakon according to imperial law.

Now, with him deemed useless, his other siblings would vie for the position of heir. Given their resentment toward their father for favoring Abaddon, betrayal seemed inevitable. This could provide the perfect opportunity for rival noble houses to dismantle the Drakon legacy.

Outside the grand hall, Abaddon stood silently with his fists clenched at his sides. His golden pupils stared up at the blazing sun, reflecting a mixture of anger and despair.

Suddenly, a soft voice called from behind him. Turning around, he met his mother's gaze. Lady Elyssia said nothing, but Abaddon's pretense of strength crumbled in an instant.

Without a word, Elyssia pulled him into a gentle embrace, stroking his long black hair.

"It's all right, Abaddon. You are more than this test. Don't let it define you."

But it already had.

The day passed quickly, with news spreading of the birth of a legendary Ranker—and, for the first time in history, of the legitimate heir of the Drakon house being born powerless.

Was normalcy such a sin? Was being powerless in a society like this truly unforgivable, especially as a noble?

That evening, Abaddon sat under the pale glow of the moon, staring into the vast, empty sky. He tried to sleep, but the noise of the banquet celebrating his siblings echoed in the distance, keeping him awake.

"Are the gods truly that cruel to me?" he wondered bitterly.

Clenching his fists, he thought back to the ceremony. The pressure caused blood to trickle from his palms, but he didn't care.

"Ever since I was declared a normal human, Father has avoided all contact with me, and now he's suddenly become closer to my other three siblings. No word from Arthur either... This is the reality I've always lived in."

He stood up and made his way to his room. That night, Abaddon laid down alone in his room, staring at the ceiling of the fortress, deep in thought.

Meanwhile, the view outside had grown even more beautiful as he left, the sky and the entire Drakon estate were bathed in the majestic silver light of the moon.

As Abaddon continued to ponder what to do next, his thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a knock at the door. He didn't respond.

The door creaked open, and Orlan, the family's elderly steward, and his daughter, Eleanor, entered.

"Master Abaddon..."

Eleanor called softly, but received no response. Orlan approached Abaddon, who was still lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. His view was soon blocked by Orlan's head coming into his line of sight.

Startled, Abaddon sat up, and there, before him, stood two of the only people who truly cared for him outside of his mother and friend.

Still silent, Abaddon continued to stare at them, and Eleanor sighed. Moving closer, she gently placed her hands on his shoulders, shaking him lightly to bring him back to reality.

"May I sit with you?"

Orlan asked gently.

Abaddon didn't reject the offer and nodded slightly. The old man settled into a chair beside him, while Eleanor squeezed herself next to Abaddon, causing him to blush lightly.

Eleanor was a beauty, despite her status as a servant. She was one of the most carefree people, even when around nobles. Because of this, she had drawn quite a bit of attention, even from Abaddon's male siblings. However, she continued to serve him without restraint.

Her status as a servant meant that none of the young nobles could ask for her hand in marriage, not even Abaddon, despite his feelings for her. He was bound by an engagement contract with the princess of the Sky Cloud hall, against his will. If only he had the power to decide for himself, he thought—no one would be able to force him into anything.

As Abaddon remained lost in thought, his gaze locked on Eleanor, who was staring out at the beautiful night.

But his reverie was abruptly interrupted by a purposeful cough from Orlan, a fatherly warning to anyone showing interest in his daughter.

If it had been the old Abaddon, he would have laughed it off, amused by the growing awkwardness. But instead, he lowered his head in shame.

Seeing this, Orlan sighed with sadness in his eyes.

"You know, young master, failure is not the end. Sometimes, it is only the beginning."

Eleanor nodded, but she was surprised when Abaddon let out a bitter laugh.

"Spare me the platitudes, Orlan. I've heard them all before."

Orlan smiled faintly.

"I'm not here to offer comfort. I'm here to tell you a story."

Abaddon, curious, glanced at him. He had developed quite a liking for Orlan's stories over the years.

"Long ago."

Orlan began...

"There was a young tree. It grew in a quiet forest, surrounded by taller, stronger trees. The young tree looked up at them every day, wishing it could be as grand, as solid, as proud. But every storm that came through, it bent and swayed, afraid it would snap."

Abaddon raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"What does this have to do with me?."

He asked. Orlan simply smiled and continued.

One day, an old tree nearby spoke to the young one.

"Why do you bend so low, little one?"

It asked.

"You have your own beauty, your own strength."

The young tree sighed.

"But the storms make me feel weak. I can't stand like you."

The old tree chuckled softly.

"You see, every storm that has bent you has only made your roots grow deeper, your branches stretch further. You are not weaker for it, little one. You are stronger."

The old man smiled, looking at him with kind eyes.

"You see, young master, failure is like those storms. They will come, yes, but they make you stronger in ways you cannot see yet. Just like the young tree, you too will grow deeper, your roots of strength reaching further with each challenge."

With a gentle sigh, he leaned back, looking at the two children with warmth in his eyes.

"This was a story Miss Elyssia told me to share with you before you sleep. And one last thing she asked me to tell you... she loves you no matter what, so don't be too down. It's bad for your health."

Hearing about his mother, Abaddon's face slowly softened into a fragile smile, and with deep gratitude, he thanked the head servant.

"I'm really grateful for brightening my mood tonight. When you return to Mother, kindly wish her good night."

Eleanor rose on her tiny feet, staring at Abaddon. She moved closer, holding out her hands, which were balled up as if hiding something.

"What is it, Eleanor?"

"Guess, young master."

With a bright face, Eleanor opened her hand, revealing a handcrafted red jade marble wristband. She gently placed it on Abaddon's left wrist, and at that moment, all the stress, desperation, and failure seemed to vanish into thin air.

"How's it?"

Eleanor asked joyfully.

Despite having fancier things than that gift, Abaddon could only reply with a genuine smile of gratitude.

Eleanor looked back at him with a somewhat saddened tone.

"Young master... please don't harm your health over such matters. If you do... I might be forced to follow your steps."

With that, she ran out of the room, her face flushed red. Abaddon smiled at her behavior, but the feeling of someone staring at him with murderous intent was unshakable.

He turned nervously, only to see Orlan adjusting his glasses, his gaze menacing. Orlan reached for the door and, while exiting, turned with a mocking grin.

"It seems girls really have the power to move mountains in a man's life, doesn't it, young master?"

With a mocking tone, he excused himself. Several minutes passed, and Abaddon continued to stare at Eleanor's gift before drifting to sleep.

That night, Abaddon dreamed of being in a fiery environment. He stood in a vast, barren wasteland with the ground cracked and scorched. Out of nowhere, a figure loomed in the distance, cloaked in shadows.

"Who are you?"

Abaddon asked, his voice echoing in the emptiness.

The figure stepped closer, cloaked in shadows yet appearing like a flickering flame with hollowed abyss-like eyes.

"You seek power, don't you, mortal?"

The figure spoke to Abaddon in a resonating yet frightening tone.

"You seek vengeance against all who have looked down on you, don't you... boy?"

The mere presence of this being made Abaddon's heart skip a beat. With a stammering tone, he replied,

"I don't know what you're talking about."

The figure chuckled, looking directly into Abaddon's eyes with a hollow, empty gaze and a wide smile across its spectral face. It whispered slowly:

"You will. And when that time comes…"

"I'll be waiting for you… destined one."

It raised a hand, and the ground beneath Abaddon's feet began to crumble. He fell into darkness, while the figure's voice continued echoing around him.

"Awake, child of ash. Your story has only just begun."

In that frightening moment, as Abaddon felt like he was being thrown off a building ten thousand floors high, he jolted awake in a panic, clutching his chest tightly and gasping for air.

But the air he breathed was not clean; it was full of smoke. He hastily turned around, only to see the entire place ablaze. From a distance, he heard the sound of clashing steel outside the window.

He stumbled out of bed, nearly tripping over the hem of his nightshirt. He rushed to the window, only to see the estate in chaos. Masses of warriors moved through the flames with energy weapons, cutting down anyone who stood in their way with monstrous cruelty.

He backed away from the window and made his way into the hall, only to be met with a horrifying sight. His father lay sprawled on the floor, chained up, while his mother knelt beside him, her green robes stained red.

Immediately, Elyssia spotted Abaddon and yelled his name in terror.

"Abaddon!"

But before he could reach her, a dark figure stepped between them with a blade gleaming in his hand.

"Run."

His mother screamed, tears streaming down her face, while his father lay unconscious.

Right then, Orlan appeared on the opposite side, holding onto Eleanor. With haste, he grabbed Abaddon's hand and pulled him away, despite the boy's struggle to get back to his mother.

The last thing Abaddon saw before he was completely taken away was the blade descending toward her, followed by a suffocating scream from the hall.

With rage, Abaddon screamed his mother's name one last time. Several seconds later, Orlan was seen taking the children through a secret, dungeon-like passage beneath the estate.

This tunnel took them to the outskirts of the estate. Looking back from their current location, the estate burned in the distance, and the faint echo of his mother's scream lingered in his ears.

As the three survivors stood, a grim but alarming shadow fell over them. Then a voice echoed from behind.

"It seems the spy really did her work flawlessly. She did say some of the Drakons might escape using this secret passage… looks like we hit the jackpot."