As Zelis stood in front of the mirror, clad in the flowing white robe and simple sandals, he couldn't help but feel the weight of anticipation in the air. The soft fabric brushed against his skin, a reminder that today was a pivotal moment in his young life. He was not merely a boy; he was a Daminhom, a member of one of the most distinguished families in Lucretia, and expectations weighed as heavily on him as the silk of his garments.
"What skills did you get during your ceremony?" he asked the maid absentmindedly, his mind drifting to the ancient stories he had heard about the gods and their gifts.
The maid paused, her hands hovering around the hem of his robe, a look of puzzlement crossing her face. "I... I only have a D skill, my lord. It's not worth knowing. Please forgive me."
Zelis turned to face her, and the flickering candlelight caught in the depths of his ruby-red eyes, sometimes holding a haunting depth that left those around him breathless. The maid's lowered gaze spoke volumes. She felt a kinship to his melancholy, yet she had always been fascinated by his quiet intensity. He was a child unlike any other, often lost in thought unlike other kids who reveled in their boisterous games.
From the corner of his eye, he caught his reflection in the polished surface—a stark contrast to the boyish innocence one might expect. Instead, he saw a mature visage, the features sharp and striking, a testament to the mana he had absorbed. It was as though the essence of the world itself had been woven into his very being. He felt the low hum of mana radiating from the maid; it was faint and troubled, and compared to his burgeoning power, it felt like a flickering candle in a tempest.
In his past life, he had never thought of himself as different; now, it was a realization that filled him with both pride and uncertainty. His thoughts drifted back to the lessons he'd dissected from an ancient text he had managed to unearth about mana compression—essentially folding power within oneself like neatly stacked files in a computer. It had become a thrilling pursuit, showcasing a capability that even his peers didn't possess.
Just then, a knight stepped into the room, his armor glinting in the sun's embrace. "It's time, my lord," he announced, his voice stern yet respectful. Zelis knew this moment was inevitable; the anticipation loaded his steps as he followed the knight outside. The thrill of grasping the power of mana ignited hope and a longing for discovery in his chest, propelling him forward into his awaiting destiny.
The carriage awaited them, its wheels intricately crafted, symbols etched into the wood that told stories of warriors and gods. For Zelis, it was like crossing the threshold into a new chapter of his life—his first journey into the heart of the Daminhom legacy. With confidence, he took his seat, gaze drifting outside as the landscape shimmered by.
When they arrived at the main house, it loomed before him—immense and magnificent, its spires reaching toward the heavens like fingers of an ancient titan. The air was filled with the mingled scents of fresh earth and blooming flowers, a testament to the expansive gardens sprawling beyond. Knights trained diligently in the distance, their movements synchronized like a well-rehearsed dance, while servants bustled about, preparing for the day's grand festivities.
As Zelis stepped into the hall, vibrant chatter flooded his ears. Families mingled, laughter echoing off the marble walls, and the atmosphere radiated jubilance in anticipation of the duke's arrival. Yet, amid the joy, Zelis felt oddly isolated—a bird in a gilded cage, buzzing with life yet painfully aware of his solitude amongst strangers.
"Well! Well! Well! If it isn't the little one with the huge name!" A voice, dripping with sarcasm, cut through his thoughts.
Zelis stiffened as a tall figure approached, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "He is the fourth young master, Alex Daminhom," the knight whispered, a hint of amusement in his tone.
Zelis offered a respectful bow, unsure of how to navigate this new hierarchy. "Greetings," he replied, trying to keep his tone neutral.
Alex regarded him with a smile, but it faded as quickly as it appeared, and without so much as a word, he strolled away, leaving Zelis cringing in embarrassment. "How rude," he murmured, his cheeks flushed. Undeterred, he abandoned his self-consciousness to focus on the table laden with treats.
As he picked at cookies—sweet morsels of happiness crumbling in his mouth—Zelis pondered the significance of names and titles, of bloodlines and legacy. He felt the curious eyes of nobles glancing in his direction. What did his name carry that made others react with such awe or disdain? And why was he drawn to the whispers of dragons and their power, yet seemed to find only silence on the topic from others?
A thought flickered in his mind, chasing shadows of uncertainty. Perhaps today would change everything he believed, would keep him from being an enigma among his kin. As the celebration unfolded around him and the thrill of the awakening ceremony approached, he understood that his destiny awaited just beyond his grasp—a chance to unveil the mysteries of his lineage, and perhaps, just perhaps, to discover who he truly was.