REWIND TO 0.5(It means that this is a flashback chapter since I can not put custom number in chapters like ch 0.5 ill have to do it like this)
Dreams... Sweet dreams... Nightmares.They are the fragments of our waking life, twisted and looped in the quiet of sleep. Dreams are our mind's way of revisiting old wounds and worn-out memories. That's why, when we dream of something from our past, we feel it—sharp, real, undeniable.
Lucian, too, was dreaming. Of a time he'd give anything to forget.
A time he rued.
Lucian's POV(from this point onward)
"Now pay close attention, kids—this is the most important part of your curriculum," Mr. Urel said, scribbling furiously on the board with a chalk stick nearly worn down to the nub.
He turned, pointing toward his handwritten scrawl. "This chart here? You'll be using it your whole lives—practically, and in every single examination."
The blackboard was a maze of words and formulas—each one tinged with power.
[ BASIC BEHAVIOURAL THEORY - CORE RELATIONSHIP EQUATIONS
Behavioural Ability = Behaviour × Will
Arrogance × Will = Enhanced Physical Properties (Basic)
Confidence × Will = Equalisation of Stats (Basic)
Ignorance × Will = Magic Nullification (Conditional)
Loyalty × Will = Enhanced Physical & Magical Properties (Conditional)
Kindness × Will = Healing/Regeneration (Basic)
Cruelty × Will = Pain Inducement (Basic)
Wit × Will = Lightning Generation (Basic)
Knowledge × Will = Complete Analysis (Basic Counter)
Weirdness × Will = Random (Random)
Sensitivity × Will = Equal Counter (Basic Counter)
Wrath × Will = Enhanced Striking Power (Conditional)
Pride × Will = Mastery of the Source of Pride (Conditional)
Gluttony × Will = Summon: Beast of Gluttony (Conditional)
Lust × Will = Infatuation (Conditional)
Envy × Will = Steals A Bit Of Opponent's Magic (Conditional)
Sloth × Will = Speed Manipulation (Conditional)
Greed × Will = Absorption of Ambient Energy (Conditional)
Insecurity × Will = Induces One's Weakness To Others (Basic)
Anxiousness × Will = Impaired Coordination (Basic Counter)
Calmness × Will = Reflex Boost, Surprise Immunity, Strategy Enhancement (Conditional Counter)
Dignity × Will = Boost When Fighting for Dignity (Conditional)
Hope/Belief × Will = Effect Scales with The Magnitude of Collective Belief/Hope (Conditional)
Despair × Will = Induces Forgetfulness (Basic Counter)
Admiration × Will = Buff for the Admired (Basic)
Courage × Will = Threat Deflection ("When you stop fearing the problem, it starts fearing you.")(Conditional)
Empathy × Will = Precognition (Basic Counter)
Fear × Will = Converts Fear into Weakness (Conditional)
Vengeance × Will = Physical & Magical Boost (Conditional Counter)
Discipline × Will = Stat-Based System (Conditional) ]
"This," Mr. Urel began again, "is the Basic Behavioural Theory. Most of it should make sense. But where you're likely to trip up is in the classification system — Basic versus Conditional."
The room stayed quiet. Heads nodded.
"Basic is straightforward. It always activates — no prerequisites, no context required. Conditional?" He paused, tapping the board. "Now that's where it gets tricky. Conditional abilities rely not just on Will, but on the presence, depth, or circumstance of the Behaviour itself. Some are guaranteed if conditions are met. Others? Not so much."
He stepped aside so we could copy the board. "And don't let the single ability listed fool you. Conditional Behaviours often carry multiple effects, but we only record their most common or primary manifestation."
He paced slightly, growing animated. "Basic Counters are consistent. Conditional Counters? Just as you'd expect—situation-based, uncertain. Timing and emotion play a much greater role there." Just then—DING.
The school bell rang, cutting through his lecture like a sword through silence. Mr. Urel glanced out the window, then turned back toward us. "Well, looks like we're out of time. Class dismissed." He paused. "When you return tomorrow, I expect you to have the entire Behavioural Theory memorized. Understood?"
The room collectively groaned as chairs scraped back and bags rustled.
The students spilled out of the school gates, a blur of chatter, laughter, and backpacks swinging in newfound freedom. I was no different.Who really likes school? I sure as hell didn't.
"Luciannn... Wait up!" a familiar voice called out behind me. I turned around. It was Carol Swivel—my childhood friend, as energetic as always.
"Oh, hey there, Carol," I said, stopping in my tracks to let her catch up. She fell in step beside me, a bright smile on her face. "Today's class was pretty interesting, huh?"
"That Basic Behavioural Theory part? Sure. The rest of it?" I shrugged. "Ehh." She nudged me lightly with her elbow. "Come on, don't be like that. You know it's gonna help you in life."
I smirked. "Please. I already know everything I need to survive going forward."
"Sure you do, Lucian. Sure you do," she said, laughing at my arrogance as if it were some running joke between us.
We eventually reached the fork in the road that split toward our homes. "See you tomorrow, Carol," I said, giving her a casual wave. "See you, Lucian!" she shouted, lifting her hand in an overly dramatic wave as she ran off into the distance.
I exhaled, watching her disappear around the corner."That girl..." I muttered with a faint smile, shaking my head. Then I turned forward again — And started walking home.
That afternoon, we all gathered at the Civitas Ring—the massive arterial loop that circled the heart of Vitralis, capital of Aurelmir. It was more than just a road; it was the city's living pulse.
White cobblestones shimmered in the late sun, etched with silver inlays that glinted like stardust. Vendors lined the circular road's edge, hawking fruit, charms, sketchbooks, and the occasional trinket imbued with Behavioural glyphs. The scent of baked cinnamon bread danced on the breeze, mixing with the faint sharpness of cold iron from the guard posts at every major archway. Street performers spun miniature auric illusions into the air—birds made of flame, threads of wind turning to ribbon.
"So? What are we doing today? Any ideas?" I asked as we strolled along the gently curving road. "I heard a rumor," Hughes said, folding his hands behind his head. "A crystal lavender lily bloomed on the outskirts."
"No way," Piole's eyes widened. "Aren't those super rare? Like, barely-bloom-every-decade rare?" He paused, a grin forming as delusions bloomed just as wildly in his mind. "Imagine Jasmine's face when I hand her one of those. Romantic, right?"
I rolled my eyes. "Don't get ahead of yourself. You don't even know if she likes flowers." "Dream killer," he muttered.
"So... are we going or not?" Hughes asked, looking at the rest of us. "Fine by me," Piole replied, puffing out his chest. "I will give it to Jasmine." "Sure. I'm bored anyway," I added, shrugging.
We started heading out—leaving the Civitas Ring behind—but before I could step off the main road, a hand caught my wrist. "I don't think going to the outskirts is a good idea," Carol said softly. I looked back at her. There was something cautious in her eyes, something that didn't quite match her usual warmth. "It's going to be fine," I said gently. "I'm here, aren't I?"
"Yeah," Hughes smirked. "Mr. All-Knowing and All-Powerful is with us. What could possibly go wrong?" Carol hesitated... then sighed, letting go of my wrist. "Fine. But we're not staying there too long." She fell in step beside me, reluctant but unable to walk away.
As we ventured farther out, the city slowly began to shed its polished skin.
The pristine cobblestones gave way to dirt paths woven through tall grass and half-forgotten gardens. The scent of the city faded, replaced by the subtle perfume of dew and wildflowers. On our way, we passed the Grand Cathedral of Lumeris—its spires reaching for the heavens like silver arrows drawn against the sky.
The stained glass shimmered with every color imaginable, reflecting the sun's dying light in fragments that danced on our skin. Pilgrims stood at the base, some kneeling in prayer, others tracing the ancient inscriptions etched into the walls. It loomed above us, regal and silent, as if watching us from behind sacred eyes.
We didn't stop. We just kept walking—past the prayers, past the warnings, toward the edges of Vitralis.
Between Vitralis—the capital of Aurelmir—and the old forest town of Nargossa, lay the untamed wilds known simply as the Outskirts. It was a liminal stretch of wilderness, where cobbled roads gave way to overgrown trails, and the breath of civilization faded into birdsong and whispering winds.
A river wound its way through this region like a living ribbon of silver, its waters glinting beneath the amber light of the descending sun. The river, called The Veilrun, was said to be touched by ancient sorcery. It shimmered with unnatural clarity, and during colder seasons, shards of ice would float along its surface—never melting, even beneath the summer sun. The locals believed these fragments were remnants of an old battle between a frost elemental and a sun spirit, their power locked in the river forever.
We walked through tall wildgrass, the kind that danced around our knees and filled the air with the soft rustle of nature breathing.
"So where exactly will we find this Crystal Lavender Lily?" I asked as I kicked a pebble from the path, eyes scanning the horizon. "It blooms on ice shards floating on the Veilrun," Hughes replied, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. "At least, that's how the story goes."
We followed the river upstream until we reached the Arctalis Falls—a high, glimmering cascade of water framed by jagged cliffs and adorned with natural spires of ice, even in this temperate season. The waterfall seemed carved from light and frost itself. Mist curled like breath from a giant's lungs, and frost clung to the nearby rocks in fragile webs. Ethereal light filtered through the water and mist, scattering rainbows on the mossy stone.
"I can see it!" Piole shouted, pointing at the base of the falls.
There, drifting calmly on one of the ice shards in the river, was the Crystal Lavender Lily—a mythical flower said to bloom once every few decades. It shimmered like moonlight encased in glass. Its petals were a soft lilac hue with translucent veins like etched frost, and the stamen glowed with a cold silver gleam. It didn't look like it belonged to this world. It looked… timeless.
"Jasmine, just you wait!" Piole laughed, bolting toward the edge. "Hey, Piole! Wait up!" Hughes called, chasing after him with the rest of us trailing behind. "Wow…" Piole murmured as he reached it. "This is the real deal…"
The flower floated upon the shard like it had grown there, born of the ice itself. There was something serene, almost sacred about it. "Well, go on," I said. "Hurry. The sun's setting." "Yeah, on it." Piole knelt beside the shard and gently reached out. His fingers wrapped around the stem with care, but as he pulled—nothing.
"It's… not budging." "What?" Hughes stepped up beside him. "Move aside, flower boy. This isn't a job for lovesick kids." With a grin, he nudged Piole aside and gave it a tug.
Still, nothing.
"Maybe it's rooted in the ice?" Piole asked, scratching his head. "Gentleness be damned," Hughes muttered, and the two of them grabbed it together. They pulled. Hard.
At first, it resisted—then, with a grinding sound that sent a chill down my spine, it started to give way. But something was wrong. It wasn't just the flower they were uprooting.
The shard of ice cracked with a deep rumble, and then, from beneath the riverbed, something began to rise. An ice statue emerged—silent, tall, and terrifying. Its form was humanoid, but elegant and sharp-edged, like it had been sculpted by a god of winter. Its armor shimmered with runic frost patterns, and it held a spear close to its chest—crafted entirely from condensed ice, jagged and crystalline.
Its head was bowed… as though asleep. Then— Carol gasped, stepping back instinctively. The statue's eyes flashed open. A cold pulse swept the clearing.
And everything changed.
BAM!
Hughes and Piole were sent flying—launched like dolls across the wild dirt trail, skidding and tumbling before crashing into the grass with grunts of pain.
The statue—no, the being—slowly turned its glowing eyes toward me and Carol. Carol stumbled back, her breath caught in her throat. Her legs moved before her mind did, but the fear still gripped her like frostbite. She couldn't speak. Could barely blink.
The statue raised its arm—then hurled its spear. The icy weapon sliced through the air with a piercing whistle, heading straight for her heart—
Clang. It stopped. An inch away. Gripped in my hand.
The impact surged up my arm like a shockwave, numbing my fingers. But I held firm. Without thinking, I hurled the spear right back at the thing, grabbed Carol by the wrist, and leapt backward. We skidded to safety as the ground where she stood cracked from the force of the missed strike.
The being stepped forward, steam rising faintly from its frost-touched frame. Then it spoke. "I am Lujein, Guardian of Arctalis. You will not live to see another day." Its voice echoed like ice scraping stone—mechanical, rehearsed. As if the words had been carved into it long ago and left to repeat forever.
A drop of sweat slid down my cheek. In this cold? It fell to the ground, hitting the frost covered grass with a soft plop— and the world moved.
Lujein surged forward, spear in hand, aiming straight for my chest. Then—thwip! An arrow struck its leg. It staggered. The statue paused, glancing down with mechanical detachment. The arrow didn't pierce deep—just a scratch. A nuisance. It plucked the shaft from its leg and tossed it aside with casual disinterest. But it had bought us time.
Piole stood tall behind his bowstring, another arrow nocked and ready, determination burning behind his once-giddy eyes. Hughes cracked his knuckle braces, rising from the dirt with a grin that masked both pain and thrill. "Round two, snow freak." And me? I stepped forward. Carol behind me, still catching her breath. My hands clenched into fists. My heart steady.
I didn't care if this thing was made of ice, magic, or legends. It hurt my friends. It threatened her. "Alright," I muttered under my breath. "Let's beat the living hell out of a statue." The air tensed. Four against one.
It was on.
Hughes charged in first. But Lujein was no sloth. With unnatural fluidity, the statue sidestepped the strike and countered, spinning its spear to smash Hughes across the side—until I intercepted the blow mid-air with my own arms.
"Piole!" I shouted. An arrow zipped through the air, striking Lujein right between the eyes. No reaction. Not even a twitch. It didn't bother removing it. Instead, it pivoted—bam!—and drove its fist into my gut. I flew backward, skidding hard across the frozen earth.
"Eat this!" Hughes shouted, lunging again. This time, his knuckle braces connected—slamming into Lujein's face, shattering chunks of its icy features. The impact dislodged the arrow embedded in its head. But then, crack... crunch... It regenerated.
"Shit. Regeneration?!"
Without delay, Lujein whirled and delivered a vicious kick to Hughes. Before it could regain balance, a larger, charged arrow from Piole smashed through its leg— Still no use. The leg reformed within seconds. Despite its robotic demeanor, something had shifted. The Guardian of Arctalis… was getting annoyed.
Lujein lifted its spear and slammed it into the ground. A cold shockwave rippled out— Fwoom! Sudden spikes of ice erupted from the terrain, stabbing toward all of us like death blooming from the earth. We dodged. Barely. Then came the glow—Golden Yellow. My Behavioural Ability of Confidence surged. Not fully equal to Lujein… not yet. But close enough.
As I drew near, I felt the difference in power shrink. It tried to swing. I grabbed the spear mid-motion—held it down with both hands. "Hughes! Now!" With a roar, Hughes launched a punch straight into Lujein's cracked head. It connected. Hard.
Then— Shhhhhhkkk… A coating of frost raced up his arms. His body froze, encased in solid ice just from touching Lujein. "Hughes!" I shouted.
I spun on the anchored spear and kicked Lujein clean across the neck. With a grunt, I grabbed Hughes and dashed toward the river, breaking the ice's hold on him with the cold shock of water.
Shivering but conscious, Hughes coughed up river water. "Thanks…" Water... Ice… water… An idea sparked.
I turned back to Lujein. It was walking toward us again, unbothered. Piole was firing volley after volley, buying us seconds at best. I ran—straight at it. It stabbed the spear down again. Ice shards jutted up from the earth in a chaotic storm. I weaved through them—some grazed my skin, others barely missed—and lunged at the Guardian.
I grabbed it and threw it into the air. Hughes caught it mid-descent, grabbing the ankle and slamming it into the frozen dirt. Piole's arrows pinned its arms. Hughes punched again and again, face contorted in rage, hammering its cracked mask. But nothing.
Lujein simply reached up—and grabbed Hughes by the throat. One hand. Effortless. It lifted him. Piole shot again. Nothing.
I had to move. I had to act—faster than ever before. Then I felt it. A shift. An ignition. Azure Blue. Suddenly, my body moved before thought. I blitzed forward—an afterimage in the frost—appearing in front of Lujein in a flash. With one devastating punch, I knocked Hughes free from its grip.
Lightning surged through my body like it had always been there. "The Behavioural Ability of Wit...? I didn't know I could..." No time to dwell. My new speed was the key. In an instant, I kicked Lujein into the river. The plan began.
Except— Nothing. Lujein didn't melt. Instead—it grabbed me. And dragged me down. Into the river. Cold flooded my lungs. I struggled, limbs heavy. Lujein held tight, trying to drown me. Think... think... Then—click. If I could channel the lightning—through the water— I released a surge. The current turned alive with power. Lujein shuddered. Finally—it hurt.
I lunged forward and tried to pull it deeper into the river. But its head remained above water, refusing to submerge.
Then— THUNK. A rock smashed into its temple, and it finally fell beneath the surface. I looked up.
Carol. She stood at the river's edge, hands trembling, eyes wide—but she had acted. She had thrown the rock. In the most crucial moment—she saved me.
Lightning surged one final time beneath the water. And then—Lujein was still. Shattered ice floated on the surface. It was over.
I dragged myself out of the river, soaked to the bone, gasping for air. A long sigh escaped my lips. "Look where your Jasmine got us, Piole," I muttered with a tired smirk.
Piole blinked. "What about her—?" "Yeah," Hughes added, laughing between coughs. "Pretty sure you're not getting that Crystal Lavender Lily now."
Piole shrugged. "Eh… I don't even know if she likes flowers." "SON OF A—" Hughes and I shouted in unison.
Then— "Um… I think the flower's there," Carol said quietly, pointing toward the riverbank—where Lujein had met his end. We turned.
A single, stunning bloom stood upright amidst the frost and cracked earth—a Crystal Lavender Lily glistening like it had been sculpted from violet ice. Piole's eyes lit up. "Looks like luck's on my side today."
He strolled toward it, hand outstretched, a triumphant grin plastered across his face. And then— CRACK! A boot slammed down on his wrist, pinning it to the ground.
"I think not." The voice was low. Calm. Icy.
Piole's head slowly tilted upward. Standing above him was a man cloaked in dark leather and ash-grey armor. His presence was suffocating. I didn't remember his face. But I remembered the feeling.
MENACE. That was all that remained in the wake of his arrival. "Hey! We found that," Piole said, gritting his teeth. "Back off." Laren didn't even flinch. He bent down and picked up the flower, examining it between gloved fingers. "Found it?" he repeated. "Do you even know what this is?" Hughes stepped forward. "Of course we do. It's the Crystal Lavender Lily."
Laren gave him a dry, humorless look. "No shit, bucko." He twirled the flower in his fingers. "Everyone knows that much." Then his tone darkened. "But what most don't know is its true name—Veilanderly Crystal. It's a relic flower used in the Rite of Upholding for the Elythion Ascendent. Which means…" He tucked it into a protective metal case strapped to his belt. "It's property of the state."
We went silent. Laren turned, gaze sweeping over us like a blade across flesh. Then his eyes locked on me. "But that's not the only reason I'm here." He took a step forward. "The one who finished off Lujein…" He paused. "That was you… wasn't it?"
No explanation. No warning. No reason. Laren seized me by the collar before I could even speak. "That was Wit, wasn't it?""Don't lie to me." His face was inches from mine, eyes like razors. His aura was overwhelming—like standing under the crushing pressure of a storm about to burst. Even breathing felt like betrayal, let alone speaking. Then his voice dropped lower, but no less venomous.
"I knew it... So you're a faker, huh? Lucian Verlain. The so-called prodigy." He looked at me like I'd spat on everything sacred to him. "On record, your Behaviour is Confidence. But this—this was Blue. Wit. You're not a prodigy. You're a fraud."
Hughes stepped in, trying to reason with him. "That's not true. Lucian just... he has multiple Behaviours. Even Mr. Ubel has two, and no one calls him a traitor—" Laren grabbed Hughes by the collar, lifting him effortlessly off the ground. "Ubel's Behaviours both belong to the Yellow Canva. He's a true genius. Don't you dare compare him to this traitorous leech."
His grip tightened. "Wit falls under the Blue Canva. That's a violation of allegiance. A crime. An act of Treachery." Without warning, twang—Piole loosed an arrow. Laren caught it mid-air with his free hand. Effortless. Calm. Cruel. Then—crash—he hurled both Hughes and Piole like discarded dolls. Their bodies hit the ground hard. Unmoving.
He turned his attention back to me. "Normally, the punishment for Behavioural Treason in Aurelmir... is death." For a moment, I thought there might be mercy in his voice. I was wrong. "But death is too kind." He leaned in, a sick smile stretching across his face. "I'll torment you instead. I'll wipe out your family. Your friends. Everything you've ever loved." "I'll make sure you never even think about being special again."
He stepped closer, raising his hand.
Then— "L-l-leave Lucian... alone!" Carol stepped in front of me, trembling. Her voice was soft, terrified... but brave. Laren looked at her. Just for a second. Then shoved her aside like she was nothing. I froze. Mind racing. No options. No strength. No time. Was this the end?
Suddenly— Thwip! An arrow landed between us, forcing him back. Piole. Bleeding. Shaking. Still fighting. "Run, Lucian!" he shouted. "We'll hold him off!" Hughes staggered to his feet, coughing, battered but standing. He grabbed me by the shoulder. "RUN. You're going to be wanted in all of Aurelmir now. Run. And don't look back."
I looked at them. And I ran. Through the trees. Over the river. Across the border. Behind me—screams. Crashing. Steel and agony. But I didn't stop. I ran. Until the land of Aurelmir disappeared behind me. Until all I could hear was my heartbeat. I had escaped.
I survived for a few days on my own. Maybe two. Maybe three. It's all a blur now. What I do remember… is the hunger. The bruises. The cold. I was beaten by time and terrain alike— Pathetic. Battered. Weak.
And then— Nothing. A gap in memory. The next time I opened my eyes… I wasn't saved. I was taken. Dragged to a place where hope went to die— A slave market.
Stripped of my name. My dignity. My worth. Auctioned off like livestock. And there—amid the leering nobles and merchants, I saw him.
The one man I despise more than anyone in this world. Eberhard Blaze.
His eyes locked onto me like I was a prize he'd waited years to claim. Not a person—no. A possession. A glittering vein of gold waiting to be mined and broken. He bought me. And the rest…?
I don't want to remember.