London, 1887. The city, wrapped in smog and steam, pulsed with the hum of magic. The Victorian era was one of progress, but it was a strange, uncertain kind of progress. Magic had entwined itself into the very bones of society, shaping the world in ways even the most skilled engineers couldn't explain. Light came not from bulbs, but from arcane lanterns suspended by enchanted chains. It wasn't uncommon to see flying carriages whizzing past above the cobblestone streets, their passengers reading floating newspapers that never seemed to wrinkle, no matter how long they were in the rain.
People no longer feared magic; they depended on it. Entire industries were built around spells and enchantments. The city was lit, fed, and transported by magic. But while the elite thrived in their towers of light, the streets below were filled with the unlucky and forgotten—the ones who couldn't wield the power that others had mastered. Among them was Kenovar Hawke.
The sharp crack of fists meeting skin echoed through a narrow, dark alley. Ken's breath caught as the blow landed square in his stomach. He staggered, clutching his side, but the sharp pain barely registered over the wave of humiliation that followed. His knees buckled as the cruel laughter of his tormentors filled the space.
"Pathetic," one of the boys spat, his voice thick with mockery. "What a joke. A Hawke without any magic." He wiped his knuckles clean, looking down at Ken with disgust.
"You're supposed to be someone, right?" another taunted. "Born of noble blood. A family of wizards, and look at you now. Weak. Helpless." His words felt like daggers, each one cutting deeper than the last.
Ken's vision blurred as he coughed again—this time, blood spilled from his lips. His ribs burned with the force of the strike, but there was no fight left in him. He had nothing to fight with. Not like them. The other boys, dressed in Academy coats, their faces smug with confidence, each carried the faint glow of basic spells—just enough to show off, enough to mock someone like him.
"Leave him be," the officer's voice cut through the tension like a blade. The boys froze, their heads snapping toward the newcomer. He was tall and broad-shouldered, a hardened man who carried himself with an aura of command. His cloak swished as he walked toward them, his enchanted badge gleaming in the dim light.
The boys flinched as the officer approached, his boots clicking against the cobblestones. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed them with a firm command. "Off you go, before I decide to report you for bullying a kid with no defense." His voice was low but stern.
The boys scattered without another word, their whispers fading into the darkness.
Ken felt the officer kneel beside him, his presence larger than life. He couldn't focus properly, his vision swimming with pain, and his head was swimming with confusion. Was this man a friend? A rescuer? He wasn't sure. His throat felt dry as he forced out the words.
"W-What's your name, lad?" the officer asked, his voice softer now.
Ken swallowed, blood tasting bitter on his tongue. He hesitated for a moment. "Kenovar… Kenovar Hawke," he managed to say.
The officer's eyes widened for a brief second before his face twisted in disbelief. "Hawke? The Hawke family?" His voice was edged with awe, but there was a slight hint of worry. "You're... you're one of the old magical families, aren't you?"
Ken didn't answer. His throat was too dry. He didn't need to say anything; the weight of his family's name hung like a millstone around his neck. The Hawkes had been powerful sorcerers once—legendary figures known throughout the empire. But what did that mean for Ken? He was no different than the beggars in the streets. No magic. No hope.
The officer frowned, glancing up and down the alley, clearly unsure what to make of the boy in front of him. "You don't look like you can even cast a basic restoration spell. Your family's magic is dormant, isn't it?"
Ken opened his mouth, but no words came out. He was too weak. Too tired. What was the point of asking if he could heal himself? He had tried before, many times. But the magic never came. His hands never felt the pulse of energy that others seemed to have flowing in their veins.
"I… don't know magic," Ken admitted, his voice barely a whisper.
The officer's frown deepened, and he stood up, looking down at the boy with a conflicted gaze. "At your age, Kenovar, that's... well, it's not unheard of, but it's not good either. With your family background, you'd think you'd have at least something by now."
Ken remained silent. There was nothing to say. He already knew that magic was what defined people in this world. Without it, he was nothing. He was just a ghost walking among the living.
"Hey, kid." The officer's voice interrupted his thoughts. "You don't have to stay like this. There's a healer in the square not far from here. He can—"
Before the officer could finish his sentence, a voice interrupted from behind them.
"I can heal him."
Ken turned his head slowly. A boy, no older than himself, stepped forward from the shadows. His robes shimmered with faint green runes, and his face looked kind but distant. He was about the same height as Ken, maybe a little shorter, with sandy hair and an easy smile.
"I'm Rick," the boy said. "I have some training."
Ken didn't have the energy to argue. The officer nodded in approval, stepping back to give Rick space. The boy kneeled beside him, placing a hand on Ken's shoulder. There was a faint hum of magic in the air, a soft glow emanating from Rick's palm as he whispered an incantation.
Ken felt the warmth spread through his chest, and within moments, the pain in his body began to ebb away. His blood stopped flowing, his bruises began to fade, and the world seemed less blurry. Rick's magic wasn't spectacular. It was simple, but it worked.
"Good as new," Rick said with a grin.
Ken sighed, pushing himself up with Rick's help. "Thanks…"
Rick waved him off. "No problem. You looked like you were about to die."
Ken blinked at him, then glanced at the officer. "I'm just not... like them."
The officer tilted his head. "Like who?"
"The boys who beat me up. They have magic. They've got power. I don't. I'm nothing."
The officer looked down at him with an unreadable expression. Then he cleared his throat and stood up straighter, as if preparing himself for something. "You know, Kenovar, something big's coming. There's a draft being issued from the Kingdom. All young men and women from the ages of sixteen to twenty-five have to report to the Crimson Court tomorrow morning."
Ken felt a sudden, cold knot in his stomach.
"What… what is that?" he asked.
"A special division is being formed to fight against Chaos Magic," the officer explained. "With the rise of dark sorcery, the Kingdom needs strong souls. If you have magic, great. If not, you'll still be tested. It's your duty as a citizen of the empire."
Ken's stomach twisted. He had no magic. He had nothing to offer.
Rick spoke up again. "They'll probably make me do it too."
Ken looked at him in disbelief. "You think they'll draft you?"
"Yeah," Rick said, shrugging. "I mean, you've got to be prepared. The chaos spreading from the Unborn Monster—well, that's something we can't ignore. You'd better hope you've got something left in you."
Ken stared at him. "I'm not ready for that. I don't even know where to begin."
"Well," the officer said, looking down at Ken again, "good luck. You'll need it." He tipped his hat and turned, walking away into the fog.
Ken's heart pounded in his chest. He felt a strange sense of dread creeping up his spine. Without magic, without a future, what was he even supposed to do now?
Then, just as the officer disappeared, a strange sensation washed over him. A soft ping echoed inside his mind. He froze, his eyes wide.
DING.
System Initiation Detected...Magic Affinity: UNKNOWNStatus: Update Blocked...Access Denied
Ken's breath caught in his throat.
"What was that?" he muttered, staring into space.
Quinn didn't respond, his eyes narrowed as if he hadn't noticed anything unusual.
But Ken couldn't shake the feeling that something had just begun. Something big.