(Image in the Comment)
Alvarez Empire, the Duchy of Pendragon.
A loud voice resounded throughout the duchy—echoing across multiple cities within its borders and even spilling into a few beyond them:
“I, Austin Von Pendragon, banish my son, Elric Von Pendragon, from the Duchy of Pendragon.
He is hereby removed from the lineage of the Pendragon family.
He is now no longer a member of the Pendragon family and can never return back to the family.
For the next ten years, he can’t enter the Duchy of Pendragon; if he violates this, it will be a capital crime, punishable by death.”
The declaration carried like thunder, rolling across rooftops and through narrow streets before slowly fading into silence, leaving behind a heavy, suffocating stillness.
In one of the cities—or to be precise, the main city where Duke Austin resided and where the Pendragon family lived—the marketplace, once filled with the usual hum of trade and chatter, stirred with uneasy whispers.
Stalls creaked, merchants paused mid-sale, and heads turned toward one another.
“It seems that the rumors were true,” one of the women chimed in, lowering her voice but not enough to hide the sharp edge of curiosity in it.
“Yes, it must be definitely true,” another replied quickly, almost eagerly.
“How perverted and wretched a guy he must be to watch his sister-in-law bathing.”
A man nearby frowned, shifting his weight as the murmurs grew louder around him.
“I mean, definitely what he did was wrong,” he said, his tone hesitant but firm, “but don’t you think that punishing him by destroying his eyes and making him blind… isn’t that too much?”
For a brief moment, the air stilled.
Then another woman scoffed, her lips curling in disdain.
“You just let it be, huh?
You are also a big pervert.
A pervert will definitely take the side of a pervert.”
A faint tension rippled through the crowd.
Some nodded in agreement, others looked away, unwilling to voice their thoughts.
The market resumed its noise, but it was different now—sharper, heavier—each whisper carrying judgment, speculation, and a quiet sense of unease.
Banishment… and blindness… was that justice… or something else?
Then another person spoke up, his voice carrying a dismissive scoff.
“All of you are thinking too much.
These are just some farces by these noble families.
Huh, they’re just showing this to elevate their family image—that’s all, nothing more than that.”
He crossed his arms, shaking his head as if the entire matter was beneath him.
“With their wealth, they can just hire one of the healers—good healers—and they can definitely heal him completely.
Do you really think that he will fall from high in the sky as the son of Duke Austin to a nobody?
Never.”
A few people nodded at his words, the logic sounding comforting—almost reasonable.
Just then, another man stepped forward, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
“Ha, what do you know?
It seems your information is quite behind.”
The first man frowned, irritation flashing across his face.
“What do you mean?”
The newcomer leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just enough to draw everyone closer.
“He was blinded using a cursed weapon.”
For a heartbeat, everything seemed to stop.
As soon as those words left his mouth, the man who had dismissed it all as a farce stiffened, his earlier confidence cracking.
“Really?” he asked, his voice no longer steady.
“Of course,” the man replied without hesitation.
“Why would I lie?”
A ripple of shock spread through the gathered crowd.
Several people gasped, others exchanged uneasy glances, and even the merchants forgot their trades for a moment.
Because it was a known fact—almost common knowledge—that even if a hand or leg was severed, a sufficiently powerful healer could restore it.
Especially the healers from the Holy Empire, those blessed by God—there were rumours that any injury, no matter how severe, could be healed under their divine light.
Not to mention, with Duke Austin’s influence and reach, inviting such healers would not be difficult.
Even if not him, his wife—Elric’s mother—could surely call upon them and have his eyes restored.
So long as it was a normal injury…
But if a cursed weapon was involved, then everything changed.
Because wounds inflicted by a cursed weapon carried something deeper—something that ordinary healing could not touch.
Such injuries could only be cured by the Gods… or by the Pope of the Holy Empire.
And that was no small matter.
Even someone like Duke Austin would find it difficult to request such a miracle.
The Pope did not grant his blessings lightly, and certainly not for just anyone.
Not to mention Duke Austin would never waste that opportunity on a son he had just banished.
And Elric’s mother can’t invite Pope.
…
In the Crescent Moon Continent—named so because its vast landmass curves like a pale crescent across the world—there exist mainly three human empires.
Two of them stand as traditional powers, ruled by mighty kings and entrenched noble families.
Their authority runs deep, their armies vast, and their influence stretches across countless lands.
These two empires are considered the strongest in terms of political dominance and territorial control.
Then, there is the third.
The Holy Empire.
Unlike the others, it is not ruled by kings or noble bloodlines, but by the faithful—devotees of the supreme God of Light.
Its lands are not the largest, nor does it boast the widest territory, yet its strength rivals that of the other empires.
Because in the Holy Empire… every single person is powerful.
Not merely citizens, but combatants.
From the moment one is born within its borders, they are raised in faith and strength.
The weakest fighter among them stands at the level of a knight—something that, in other lands, would already be considered respectable.
Their armies are not formed through recruitment, but through a population that lives and breathes battle—battle against evil.
And at the very pinnacle stands the Pope.
A transcendent mage—one who can wield the divine power granted by the God of Light Himself.
His presence alone is said to rival entire armies, and across the continent, he is acknowledged as one of the strongest beings in existence.
As for the other two human empires, they are known as the Alvarez Empire and its direct rival, the Tempest Empire.
The Alvarez Empire, with its vast influence and noble hierarchy, stands as one of the pillars of human civilization.
Opposing it is the Tempest Empire, equally formidable, its strength forged through relentless ambition and power struggles that never truly cease.
There are also an Elven Empire and a Monster Empire located on the other half of the Crescent Moon Continent.
At the two tips of the continent lie two Dragon Mountains: the upper half is home to Light-attribute dragons, while the lower half is inhabited by Dark-attribute dragons.
…
Between and around the two great Human empires lie numerous human kingdoms—scattered like fragments across the right half of the crescent-shaped land.
Many of these kingdoms serve as vassals, bound by allegiance to one empire or the other, offering tribute and military support in exchange for protection.
Yet not all bend the knee.
A few kingdoms, those blessed with transcendent-level powerhouses of their own, have chosen a different path.
They have formed alliances—loose yet formidable unions of independent nations—standing apart from the empires, neither subordinate nor controlled.
Small… but not weak enough to be crushed.
…
The Fiore Kingdom—a vassal of the Tempest Empire.
Within Fiore, in one of its regions—Sidian County—it earned its name from the vast obsidian mines that surrounded it.
The land there was dark and rugged, veins of black stone running deep beneath the earth, giving the entire region a faint, somber tone.
A large-scaled eagle descended from the sky, its massive wings slicing through the air with heavy beats before it landed near a forest just on the outskirts of Sidian County.
Dry leaves scattered as it touched the ground, the wind from its landing rustling the nearby trees.
Perched upon the eagle was a young man.
Two prominent vertical scars marked both of his eyes, while another scar ran horizontally across them—from left to right—a straight, unbroken line cutting across his face.
His expression remained still, almost indifferent, as if the weight of those scars no longer belonged to him.
Beside him stood a knight clad in silver armor, polished yet cold.
He was the escort assigned to bring the young man here—and to leave him behind.
The knight hesitated for a brief moment before speaking.
“Young—”
He stopped himself mid-word, his jaw tightening slightly.
Shaking his head, he corrected himself.
“I’m sorry.
You are no longer worthy to be called the Young Lord.
After all, you are just a commoner now.”
A faint pause lingered in the air.
“Elric,” the knight continued, his tone turning firm, “give me your money pouch… and the letter of recommendation given to you by your mother, Lady Martha.”
The young man—Elric—stood silently.
He understood what was being asked of him.
The money pouch… and the letter.
The last remnants of what little his mother had tried to leave him with—a chance at a peaceful life, a path that might have softened his fall.
In truth, he didn’t care much for the letter.
He might not have even used it—perhaps he would have torn it apart without a second thought.
However, he really wanted to keep the money, as it would be helpful during the early stages before he established himself.
Knowing that he had no choice but to give what was demanded of him, Elric extended his hand without a word or the slightest hint of resistance.
He handed over the money pouch along with the recommendation letter.
The knight took them without hesitation, and just like that, the last thread connecting Elric to his past quietly slipped away.