Vale’s Persp..
From the day i was born without a mana core
I hated her.
I hated the Goddess of Mana
I hated the absolute mockery of the word
"miracle."
Deep down, the bitter truth had finally settled in: there was no magic coming to save me. The mystical, the supernatural, the divine—it was all a beautifully packaged lie meant for people who weren’t me.
But fine.
Forget the magic.
Forget the legacy.
At least show a single shred of concern for me. Not as your son
I know I lost that right
But just as a human being.’
’...Damn it.’
The thoughts choked me, but I kept my face an absolute mask. Around us, the academy courtyard had turned into an amphitheater of cruelty. Students lined the stone walkways like spectators at a public execution. I could see the glint of condescension in their eyes, the twitching muscles in their faces as they tried, and failed, to hold back their mocking smiles. Even the instructors—the people paid to guide and protect—simply watched with blank, detached faces. I was an anomaly. A defective product being discarded.
My gaze drifted down to the crisp, white paper my father had just handed me. It was a legal statement of disownment, stamped with the wax seal of the Roderick Dukedom. Smug, neat, and absolute.
Looking up, my eyes swept the crowd one last time, desperately searching for a single anchor of genuine human emotion. Instead, my gaze landed on Irvene. She stood at the edge of the crowd, her expression a wall of pure indifference. Without a word, she turned her head and walked away, her retreating back with an indifferent tone.
’What the hell?’ I thought, a sudden, sharp ache blooming in my chest. ’It’s fine if these other buffoons mock me. I expect it from them. But her attitude right now? Why does this hurt so damn much?’
"Why..." The word choked in my throat, threatening to break my composure.
But before the darkness could swallow me entirely, my eyes caught a movement behind two taller students. A timid, small frame was peeking through the gap.
She wore thick goggles pushed up onto her forehead, her eyes wide and staring directly at me ’Helen’ . And she looked... anxious. For me.
’What?! Is she actually worried? About me? The same person who tried to kill her before?’
It didn’t make any sense. It was entirely illogical. Yet, somehow, the sight of her anxious face sent a sudden, quiet warmth spreading through my chest. At least one person. In this entire godforsaken academy, at least one soul cared that I was breathing.
That warmth was the final piece I needed. It anchored me, drawing a line between the pathetic boy I used to be and the man standing here now.
I turned my gaze back to the Duke. I didn’t see a father anymore. I didn’t see the terrifying lord of the realm. I just saw a stranger. An unnerving, crystalline calm washed over me, settling into my bones like frost.
"So," I said, my voice cutting through the whispering crowd. It was flat, unnaturally calm, devoid of any the desperation he was undoubtedly expecting.
"You came all the way from the Roderick Dukedom to the academy just to toss this paper at me?"
For the first time, a flicker of confusion crossed the Duke’s stoic face. He had every right to be surprised. If this had been a month ago, a week ago, even yesterday, I would have been on my knees. I would have crawled through the dirt, weeping, begging him not to throw me away, promising to try harder to find a spark of mana.
But I was done. I was so utterly, profoundly done with this entire family parade.
Maintaining his gaze, I casually took the document, folded it twice with precise, deliberate movements, and slid it carelessly into my pocket.
I met the eyes of the man who gave me life, and gave him nothing in return.
"Well," I said, tilting my head slightly. "Your duty here is finished, isn’t it? Then go back."
"WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?"
The fiery screech ripped through the cafeteria, cracking against the high stone ceilings. I didn’t even need to turn around; that shrill, self-righteous pitch was burned into my memory.
Avaria. My little sister.
She stormed into the open space, fuming with a rage so intense it felt entirely performative. She halted a few paces away, her feet planted, as waves of raw heat began to purge from her palms. Her vibrant red hair spiraled upward, caught in the updraft of her own rising mana.
In a matter of seconds, the cozy, sunlit academy cafeteria had been violently transformed into a miniature battlefield, the air warping and shimmering around her. She looked ready to tear me limb from limb.
"Enough."
The Duke’s voice didn’t need to be loud to carry weight. It echoed like a heavy iron gate slamming shut, vibrating through the corridor.
Instantly, Avaria froze. The roaring flames in her hands sputtered and died, leaving only thin wisps of smoke curling from her fingertips.
"But, Father..." she stammered, her fierce expression instantly crumbling into confusion.
The Duke’s cold facade softened into something resembling affection. He crouched down, meeting her eyes, and gently patted her head. "My precious little daughter," he said, his voice smooth and comforting. "You do not need to waste your effort on a nobody like him."
I watched the display, entirely detached. ’What a melodramatic, cliché family drama.’
But as I looked at Avaria, a sudden wave of clarity hit me. I finally understood the root of her volatile hatred. This family—the great Roderick Dukedom—only showered affection on those who met their sky-high expectations. Avaria wasn’t just angry at me for being defective; she was terrified. My very existence was a haunting reminder of what happens when you fail. She pushed herself to improve daily out of sheer panic, and over time, that suffocating fear had curdled into a deep, desperate hatred for the brother who represented her worst nightmare.
The Duke stood back up, completely erasing me from his field of vision. I no longer existed to him. Instead, his sharp, calculating gaze swept across the spectator students until it locked onto a single target.
"Are you the one who defeated him in the duel?" the Duke asked, his voice cutting through the tense silence.
From somewhere near the front of the crowd, Erwin stepped forward. He gave a firm, confident nod of confirmation.
A rare, genuine grin spread across the Duke’s face. He stepped right past me—as if walking around a piece of discarded trash—and moved toward the boy. Right there, in the middle of the academy cafeteria, in front of the son he had just legally disowned, the Duke began to warmly congratulate Erwin on his victory.
***
On the outside, Vale looked entirely unmoved. His posture remained relaxed, his face a perfect, unbreakable mask of unnatural calm.
But inside his mind, the temperature plummeted to absolute zero.
As he listened to the Duke praise a stranger for beating his own blood, a single, horrifyingly clear statement echoed in the back of his mind. The puzzle pieces clicked together. The sudden trip, the public disownment, the timing of it all—it wasn’t a coincidence.
’So this is the actual reason you came.’
A quiet, terrifying rage began to boil over inside him.