Rias Gremory woke early that morning, as she always did. After preparing herself for the day, she joined her family for breakfast in the dining room.
Her mother and father were already there, along with Grayfia, the estate’s head maid. Rias greeted them all and took her seat.
Breakfast continued as usual, the familiar comfort of routine filling the room.
Yet, after a while, Rias grew quiet, lost in thought. Zeoticus Gremory, her father, noticed and asked gently if everything was alright.
“Yes, Father. All is well. It’s just that yesterday I saw my cousin Sairaorg and the third son of the Phenex family together. It struck me as an unusual meeting, that’s all.”
Venelana, her mother, responded, “Ah, you must mean Raza.”
Rias asked if her mother knew him.
Venelana nodded, a hint of nostalgia in her eyes. “I saw him once, when he was just a baby. I’m surprised by how much he’s grown.”
Zeoticus added, “Ah yes, the Black Phenex. People have been talking about him since his birth. Fear often follows what isn’t understood.”
Venelana shot him a sharp look. “Zeoticus.”
Zeoticus held up his hands in surrender, a teasing smile on his lips. “I’m only explaining. There’s no need for that look, dear.”
Venelana turned to her daughter. “And you, Rias? What do you think of Raza?”
Rias considered. “I saw him training with Sairaorg yesterday after they’d talked for a bit. Sairaorg was teaching him how to throw a punch, and… he had this silly smile on his face, like he was genuinely enjoying himself. He’s not what I expected, honestly.” A small smile touched Rias’s lips.
Venelana returned her smile, nodding. “Raza and his mother have faced many difficulties because of his circumstances. I hope you can get
along with him, Rias. He seems like a good child.”
Rias reflected on this. She had her own opinions about the Phenex family, but Raza didn’t strike her as arrogant. In fact, nothing about him screamed ‘Phenex’, except perhaps those black flames of his. But it was the way he smiled that night which stuck with her—maybe he was as
much a victim of his family’s expectations as she sometimes felt she was.
“I’ll keep that in mind, Mother,” Rias replied. The family returned to their breakfast.
Meanwhile, at the Phenex household, Raza was packing a bag in his room when his mother, Rhea, entered.
“What are you doing, dear?” she asked.
“I made a new friend at the gathering—Sairaorg Bael. He offered to help me train, so I’m packing some clothes for it.”
Rhea watched him for a moment before smiling. Relief softened her features—her son had finally made a friend.
“I’m just glad you found someone to be with. Make sure you get along and don’t stay out too late, alright?”
Raza promised, then finished packing. At the door, he paused, turned, and hugged his mother one more time before heading out. Rhea smiled as she watched him go.
Raza arrived at the Bael estate and knocked. An elderly butler answered. “Ah, young Lord Phenex. How do you do? Master Sairaorg has been expecting you. Please wait a moment.”
After a short interval, Sairaorg appeared at the door, greeting Raza with a broad grin. “Ready to train?”
“Of course,” Raza replied, and together they headed to the backyard.
Training with Sairaorg was intense—push-ups, running, climbing, acrobatics, parkour, lifting, martial arts, boxing, sparring, and endurance drills. They punched hard wood until their knuckles bled, and still, Raza never complained. No matter how tough it became, whenever he fell, he got back up.
By day’s end, Raza lay on his back, chest heaving. Sairaorg stood over him, laughing. “Most would’ve given up by now, but you stuck with it.
I was the same at the start. It gets easier.”
Raza, barely able to catch his breath, managed, “Tomorrow… again?”
Sairaorg grinned. “Tomorrow, the next day, and the day after.”
Raza smirked. “Great.”
Sairaorg helped him up. Though Raza stumbled, he stood firm. Sairaorg recommended a cold bath for recovery and told him to stick to the training plan at home on days he couldn’t visit. “Every day. No excuses.”
Raza nodded seriously. Back home, he looked like he’d survived a battlefield. His mother, naturally concerned, asked what had happened. Raza simply told her he’d been training, then went for that cold bath, which did help. His devil biology hastened recovery, though he lacked the same regenerative abilities as other Phenex family members. It was just another thing that set him apart.
He thought about Sairaorg and the day’s training. He genuinely enjoyed it, and Sairaorg was good company—never belittling, always encouraging. What a great guy, Raza thought.
For the next few months, Raza developed a routine: training with Sairaorg when possible, and practicing alone at the Phenex grounds otherwise. Gradually, the exercises became easier; his stamina and endurance improved. He couldn’t shatter training dummies yet, but he could crack them, and that progress motivated him.
At night, Raza meditated, working on his magical control—especially over his black flames. He wanted to ask Sairaorg about dedicating the last hour of training to magic. Raza was determined to use every advantage he had, even if others distrusted it. Maybe, one day, they would see him differently. For now, he felt he was finally on the right path.
His mother had been skeptical at first but soon came around. That was enough for now, Raza decided.
One evening as he was about to leave the Phenex estate, a familiar voice called out behind him. “Well, well. Looks like my little brother’s made a friend. The Bael brat, is it? How amusing—the two outcasts together.”
Raza turned to see Riser standing behind him.
“Brother Riser,” Raza greeted, tension in his voice.
Riser circled him like a predator. “If you really think getting a little stronger means you’ll be accepted, you’re more foolish than I thought.
You’ll never be part of the Phenex Clan. Mother can shield you all she likes, but reality is, you’re nothing like us. Everyone knows that. Ha—but you don’t even know the half of it.”
Raza clenched his fists. “What do you mean, Riser?”
Riser sneered. “The day you were born, the elders wanted to get rid of you. Even Father considered it—he only hesitated because of Mother. Now we’re stuck sharing a house with you.”
Raza froze. “You—you’re lying.”
Riser laughed. “Am I? You’re only here out of pity. But if you’re not careful, who knows what the elders will decide next? Do you really want to train, to unleash those black flames everyone despises? What do you think will happen when they start to see you as a threat? Do you really think Mother can protect you forever? But don’t mind me—enjoy your little friendship. Let’s see how far it gets you.”
With that, Riser turned and walked away, leaving Raza trembling, fists clenched and eyes wide. He bit his tongue, struggling not to yell. Riser’s words echoed in his mind. He’d learned to ignore his brother’s taunts, but this was different—this shattered his confidence. Was it true? Would they really try to kill him if he kept training?
The next time Raza trained with Sairaorg, Sairaorg quickly noticed something was wrong. Afterward, as they sat together on the grass, Raza spoke in a defeated tone. “I… I think I want to stop training.”
Sairaorg was quiet for a long moment. Then, without looking at Raza, he asked, “Why?”
Raza hesitated. “I’m… I’m afraid. Afraid of what might happen if I succeed, if I use my abilities.”
Silence stretched between them. Sairaorg finally stood and said, “Follow me.”
He led Raza through his home, stopping before a quiet room. Inside, a woman lay on a medical bed.
“That’s my mother,” Sairaorg said softly. “She fell ill with something only our kind gets. She’s been in a coma ever since. But she always told me to keep moving forward, no matter how hard it got. She encouraged me when no one else would. Sound familiar?”
Raza listened silently.
“It’s thanks to her that I chase my dreams. I fight for those I care about, and I want those who believe in me to see me succeed.” Sairaorg turned to face him. “Raza, we’re not just children playing pretend. The underworld doesn’t care about people like us. We’re outsiders. We have to prove ourselves, or they’ll crush us.”
He placed his hands on Raza’s shoulders, voice firm. “You have to keep moving forward—no matter what. If they want to crush you, get strong enough that they can’t. If they fear you, get strong enough they can’t stop you. If they try to ignore you, make sure they can’t. The only way to survive is to rise to the top. You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t believe you could do it. I see that same fire in you. But you need to ask yourself—what are you fighting for?”
Raza was silent, absorbing every word. He thought of everything he’d endured, all at just ten years old.
“I… I want to make them pay for mocking me. I want them to understand I won’t just disappear. I want my mother to be proud. I want to be happy. I want to live. So I’ll keep moving forward, Sairaorg. Just like you said.”
Sairaorg studied him, then smiled. “Good. Now let’s get to that magic training.”
Raza smiled back, nodding. “Thanks, Sairaorg. And… thank you for sharing about your mother.”
Sairaorg shrugged. “I have to get strong so she doesn’t worry when she wakes up. Let’s do our best—both of us.”
With renewed determination, they returned to the training ground.
The day wasn’t over yet.