**Chapter 4: The four scars **
The cold, polished marble of the Valerian estate felt like ice beneath Lucien’s knees, but the physical pain in his ribs was nothing compared to the quiet, agonizing hum of memory behind his eyes.
Four memories. Four distinct scars etched into his soul.
The first was the memory of warmth. Before his tenth birthday, Lucien had been the cherished youngest son of Duke Valerian. He remembered the smell of polished leather and hearth fire, the fond laughs of his elder siblings, and the soft, indulgent smiles of his mother. In the Aeloria Empire, the Valerians held the western border against the demon hordes—a bloodline defined by overwhelming might, where muscle and high-rank mana were the only currencies that mattered.
The second memory was the awakening ceremony. The heavy crystal ball had pulsed not with the deep, suffocating crimson of SSS-rank potential, but with a weak, murky grey. *Potential: D-Rank.* *Talent: Crippled Mana.*
In a single breath, the warmth vanished. Potential was the absolute ceiling of existence in this world. A talent meant nothing if the vessel could not hold it, and a D-rank potential meant Lucien was destined to be little more than a servant in the eyes of the high nobility. The system had granted him the *Spatial Awareness* skill and paved the way for a *Magic Swordsman* class, but without mana to feed the blade, it was a cruel joke. No one investigated why a Duke’s son had crippled mana. The Valerian motto was absolute: *The strong rule; the weak are born to be crushed.* Overnight, affection curdled into neglect, laughter into beatings, and family into warden-like tormentors. Desperate for even a sliver of attention, Lucien had spiraled—acting out, drinking, striking servants—only to be met with deeper disdain.
The third memory was Emilia Lancaster. The second princess of the empire, with hair like spun gold and eyes that used to light up whenever he entered the room. Their engagement had been arranged in their innocent childhood to bind the Royal Family to the Western March. But as the years passed after his ruined awakening, her visits thinned. Her letters stopped.
The fourth memory—the freshest, rawest wound—had occurred just hours ago at Luminara Academy.
His family had paid a massive bribe to slide Lucien into Class A alongside the "Golden Generation," hoping to hide their shame. But six months in, the illusion had shattered. Walking out after the final semester lectures, Lucien had seen her. Emilia, standing impossibly close to the academy's rising star, the beloved protagonist of the Golden Generation.
Seeing them together had snapped something in Lucien’s fragile mind. He had lunged forward like a wild beast, blind with rage. He hadn't even managed to graze the prodigy's coat before he was beaten within an inch of his life. He had rolled on the cold academy floor, coughing blood while fellow students sneered, laughed, or cast fleeting looks of pity. Through the swelling in his eyes, he had looked up at Emilia. Her gaze had been glitchy, teary, and conflicted—but before he could parse it, she had turned her head away.
By evening, the news had swept the capital: *The trash of House Valerian beaten half to death by the Chosen One.*
The response was immediate. King Edward Lancaster officially voided the royal engagement. Lucien’s family had dragged his broken body back to the estate, tossing him into his quarters like spoiled meat. His mother refused to look at him. The servants didn't bother bringing a damp cloth for his bruised face.
Lucien stared at the dust motes floating in the dim light of his desolate room. The original Lucien was gone, broken by the weight of a world that measured human worth in arbitrary ranks. But the mind now inhabiting this battered frame was entirely different.
"Bro Lucien," a voice whispered in the quiet sanctuary of his mind. "I'll change our fate. No matter what, no one will ever look down on you again."
A sleek, translucent blue interface flared to life before his eyes, invisible to the rest of the world.
[System Assistant: ADA Online.]
Lucien wiped a streak of dried blood from his lip, his dark eyes hardening into obsidian. The system had recognized the hidden potential beneath the cracked foundation. The mana might be bound, the potential labeled 'D,' but he knew rules were meant to be rewritten.
“Ada,” Lucien murmured softly, his voice raspy but steady. “We will talk about the mission later. Right now... I have to face my family.”
He stood up, his bones protesting, and adjusted his torn collar. It was time to show House Valerian what happened when a crushed bug refused to die.