I was born beneath a silver moon, blanketed by calm snow, into a house second only to the royal bloodline itself. A child born of high nobility. A child they called divine.
At least… that's what they said.
The moment I opened my eyes, time seemed to stop. My parents — the powerful Lord and Lady Lloydsmik — stood frozen, their expressions twisted between awe and disbelief. Their newborn son had golden hair like sunlight and eyes unlike any ever seen.
Eyes of gold. Eyes that shimmered like twin stars.
God's Eye.
A legendary trait said to appear only once every five hundred years. Many believed it a myth — the rambling of drunken scholars and dusty old tomes. But when they saw the truth in me, even the seasoned maids dropped their silver trays in shock.
The God's Eye was real. And I had it.
Each bearer of the Eye was born with unique power. Five centuries ago, it was a man named Lucas — Lucas the Beast. His God's Eye allowed him to transform into a white-furred humanoid beast, boosting his strength fiftyfold, heightening his senses, and pushing his body far beyond mortal limits. They say he alone defeated a dragon the size of a city — a beast that could melt mountains with a single breath. And when he stood over its corpse, soaked in blood and fire, they gave him his title.
But that was his story.
This is mine.
From the very start, I wasn't a son. I was an asset. My parents celebrated not my birth… but the tool they'd been given. A future weapon. A golden goose wrapped in flesh and bone.
They smiled and laughed in front of others, putting on the mask of loving nobles. But behind closed doors, they whispered of the riches, the power, the influence they could claim through me.
By the age of five, I began to understand what I was.
I discovered magic early — too early. The moment I saw another student try to form a mana heart, I understood. The God's Eye let me see what others couldn't: the invisible particles of mana in the air, how they moved, merged, gathered like swirling stardust.
In secret, I mirrored what I saw. I drew the mana inward. I focused… shaped… built.
And at five years old, I created my first mana heart.
No one had ever done it that young.
That day, I felt alive. My parents felt greedy.
They paraded me as a miracle. They screamed of prophecy. Of fate. Of a second coming.
By eight, I had five mana hearts. Enough to cast spells that would take seasoned court mages years to learn. They called me The Child Prodigy. The Golden Prince. The Magic Heir.
And I hated every second of it.
They loved me for my talent, but never as their son. They sold everything I created — even my personal research, my theories, my greatest magic: Light Magic.
A spell designed to let me move as light itself — faster than thought, untouchable.
They sold it for 500 million gold coins.
They didn't even ask me.
They plastered my face on scrolls, coins, statues. But the more I shined, the more people turned. Nobles praised me to my face… but whispered behind my back. Children feared me. My tutors feared me. Even the scholars began to resent me.
Jealousy. That's what my parents called it. "Fear is good," they said. "You're too special to need friends."
And so I was alone.
By ten, I had no childhood. I had no friends. I had fame I never asked for, power I never wanted, and eyes that saw through every false smile in the kingdom.
That was when I gave up on magic.
Not because I wasn't good at it.
But because every time I succeeded, someone hated me a little more.
So I picked up a sword.
And for the first time in my life…
…I felt free.
At age twelve, I discovered swordsmanship. It was unlike anything else. A dance. A rhythm. A truth that only my body could speak.
Swordsmanship, like magic, relied on something inside — something deeper.
It was called Sword Essence.
Unlike mana, which lived in the air, Sword Essence dwelled in the body, coiled like a sleeping dragon deep in the pelvis. Weak at first. But as I trained, as I bled, as I fell and rose again, it grew stronger.
It hardened my body, sharpened my mind. It understood me — the sword didn't care about fame or power. It cared only for truth. Will. Precision.
If magic was manipulation, the sword was honesty.
I learned that sword aura had colors. Red — for raw, crushing power. Heavy and slow, but devastating when it landed. Blue — for speed, agility, and technique. Precise. Deadly. Silent. I favored the blue. The way of the storm.
The sword became my haven. My escape.
My parents didn't care.
As long as I shined.
As long as I performed.
As long as they could ride my light toward their own twisted dreams.
By the age of twelve, I had learned the foundations of swordsmanship. But it wasn't enough. I craved something greater — a connection, a truth only the sword could offer. Then, my father placed a sheathed blade in my hands.
A sword wrapped in white silk.
Its name was Gods Speed.
A legendary blade shaped like a katana, its edge glimmered like silver lightning under the sun. It wasn't just a weapon — it was alive. As all legendary swords are.
They do not belong to us. We belong to them.
You cannot choose them. They choose you. And if the sword does not accept you, you may hold it in your hands — but it will never cut. Not even the air.
But Gods Speed… chose me.
The sword whispered to me. It hummed in my hands. The moment I unsheathed it, lightning crackled across its edge. It danced across my skin — testing me. Studying me.
It found me worthy.
At thirteen, I understood its power. Gods Speed wasn't built for brute force. It was speed, precision, and finesse. When wielded correctly, the user could see vital points — weaknesses hidden deep in the enemy's guard. Archmage or knight, warrior or beast — no one was immune.
Through my God's Eye, I saw even more. I could track lightning particles in the blade's aura, how they arced and flowed through the air. I learned to command them. To amplify my body. To become lightning.
But power came at a price. The technique demanded perfect focus, complete unity between body, sword, and spirit. Most would collapse under the strain.
I thrived.
At fifteen, I entered the Kingdom's Youth Championship — a grand tournament where noble houses gathered to showcase their pride and bloodline heirs. Mages, swordsmen, archers, summoners… prodigies of every kind.
I was the youngest.
And I became the champion.
The crowd roared. Nobles bowed their heads. And the royalty, seated above all, watched me with curious eyes. I should've felt pride… but what I felt was different.
A single gaze stole my breath.
Princess Alice.
The jewel of the kingdom. A girl said to be so beautiful, even the stars dimmed in her presence. Her hair shimmered like spun moonlight. Her eyes, a calm ocean under a quiet night sky. When I looked at her…
She was already looking at me.
My heart pounded. I turned away, pretending I hadn't seen her. But her gaze lingered. I returned home, cheeks burning, confused and elated. That night, the palace held a celebration in my honor.
I didn't enjoy a second of it.
Because when I walked into the manor, my parents didn't smile. They didn't praise me.
My father frowned. My mother crossed her arms.
"You could've ended the fight in seconds," Father said coldly. "Instead, you played around. You embarrassed us."
"I… I'll do better next time…" I whispered.
"You'd better," Mother snapped. "Or you'll sleep outside. The snow should remind you of your place."
I said nothing. Just bowed.
I didn't feel like a champion. I felt like a puppet.
I needed air. I wandered the capital streets, alone. Snow fell gently around me — soft, quiet, peaceful.
And then, under the moonlight… I saw her.
Princess Alice.
She stood by the royal gardens, glowing like a vision from another world.
I hesitated… then stepped forward. My voice caught, but I forced a greeting.
"G-Greetings, my lady… I was just passing by when I saw a goddess."
She tilted her head, smiling playfully. "A goddess? And who might that be?"
"You, my lady. You shine brighter than even the moon tonight."
She laughed — a soft, melodic sound that melted the cold.
And somehow… we talked.
Night after night, we met again. In secret, beneath stars and snow, we shared our thoughts. Our fears. Our dreams.
We were the same age. The same loneliness.
One night, I brought her to my favorite place — a cliff that overlooked the entire capital. The stars above, the lights below… it felt like floating in a sea of dreams.
Everything was perfect.
And when the moment felt right…
…I kissed her.
And she kissed me back.
For the first time, I felt alive not because of talent or power, but because of her.
Time passed.
We grew. I reached 13-star mana mastery. I could cast high-tier spells and fight with a sword as if it were part of my soul. Gods Speed and I were no longer separate.
We were one.
And one day… the King summoned me.
I feared the worst. That they discovered our secret. That I would be exiled or worse.
But instead…
They accepted us.
Princess Alice and I — officially recognized.
My parents finally got what they always wanted: status, power, and royal connection. They smiled wider than ever.
And for once… I was happy.
But happiness, in this world, never lasts.