Elixwell slept beneath a sky torn by thunder.

Rain poured in sheets, hissing against stone rooftops and empty streets. The city was silent—except for the wind’s wail and the storm’s distant roar.

Down a shadowed alley, a cloaked figure walked alone, soaked and shivering, arms wrapped tightly around a bundle. The cloth, though tattered, was held with care. Inside, a newborn breathed softly, unaware of the cold or the storm.

The figure stopped at the doorstep of a crooked wooden mansion—the Fire Rat estate.
Faint candlelight flickered behind a window.

“Forgive me, little one,” the figure whispered, voice nearly lost to the rain.
“I can’t protect you from what’s coming. But maybe… he can.”

Kneeling, they gently laid the child on the doorstep.
For a fleeting moment, faint dragon-like scales shimmered across the baby’s cheek—then vanished.

A pause.
A soft kiss.
And then, without looking back, the stranger turned and disappeared into the storm.

The child stirred, a tiny cry escaping his lips.

The heavy door creaked open. A towering man stood in the frame, his broad shadow swallowing the light of the hallway. Two maids hovered behind him, their faces pale in the flickering glow.

One was a human, trembling at the sight of the storm.
The other was a Dark Elf.

Her name was Aria.
Her hair flowed like strands of black silk, her eyes deep crimson like polished rubies. Her face, sharp and refined, betrayed nothing—neither fear nor curiosity. She stood still, her expression unreadable, as if the world outside were of no concern to her.

“A baby!?” The man’s voice was harsh, cutting through the night.
“Get rid of it at once. We are not a charity for strays seeking a home.”

The human maid flinched, her lips parting as though to protest.
But Aria? She did not move. Her gaze lingered on her master instead of the child. She had seen this hunger before—the desperate glint in his eyes, the greed that gnawed at the edges of nobility.

The human maid stepped forward, reaching hesitantly for the child.

That was when it happened.

The infant’s eyes fluttered open. His cry grew louder—then erupted into a wave of pure mana.

The air itself trembled.
Across Elixwell, lamps flickered, dogs howled, and people collapsed in the streets as though the storm had stolen their breath.

The maid crumpled to her knees at once, trembling violently.
The towering man staggered, clutching the doorway as sweat trickled down his brow.

But Aria remained perfectly still.
The mana shockwave swept past her as if she were carved from stone. In her ruby eyes flickered something faint, something ancient. Not fear. Not surprise. But a memory—long buried.

“Incredible…” The man’s grim tone softened into awe.

He glanced back at the estate’s chipped stone walls, at the tattered banners of the Fire Rat family. Once proud, now crumbling—mocked by the greater houses of nobility.

“With this child’s magic,” he muttered, a slow smile spreading across his lips,
“our Fire Rat family may finally rise from the ashes. No more snide remarks. No more forced smiles before the so-called noble Houses.”

Aria’s gaze shifted back to her master. For the first time that night, her lips curved ever so slightly into a smile—a smile that never reached her eyes.

“Bring him inside,” the man ordered.

The trembling maid obeyed, scooping the child carefully into her arms. Aria followed in silence, her crimson eyes lingering on the baby for just a moment longer.

The heavy door shut.
The storm outside raged on, but within the Fire Rat estate, a new story had begun.

What had been abandoned as a burden was now seen as a weapon.

And that weapon would decide whether the Fire Rats would rise to glory—
—or burn the world to ash.