The grand hallways of House Obrechtz stretched in solemn elegance—tall obsidian pillars wrapped in crimson velvet, magical torches flickering with soft blue flames that cast shadows like flowing silk across the marble floor. Outside, the twin moons bathed the empire in silver light, but inside, a different radiance burned: the awakening glow of a hero.
Ten-year-old Helena Obrechtz stood barefoot on the cold tiles, her black hair tousled from running and her small hands clenched around the edges of her nightgown. A faint golden shimmer pulsed around her—the residue of awakening, of divine power threading into her very soul. She had done it. She had awakened as one of the 16 Heroes.
The joy had been overwhelming at first. The way the light surged through her body. The ancient voice that spoke only to chosen heroes echoing within her thoughts. Her mind was flooded with visions of valor, of defending her family, of a future where no one could harm those she loved. She had sprinted from the awakening chamber with only one thing in her heart: to tell her father, her mother, and her big sister.
But when she arrived at the southern corridor leading to the estate's High Chamber, she came to a halt.
From just beyond the thick oak doors, she could hear voices—two deep, commanding tones she recognized as her father Maximilian and her mother Sophia. Alongside them were others: colder, refined voices that belonged to none other than Grand Duke Velebrandt and his wife, Seraphina. And then… there was another voice. A boy's voice. Smooth. Confident. Almost too polished for his age.
Lucien.
Helena hesitated, drawn to the crack between the two massive doors slightly ajar. Peering in with childlike curiosity, her heartbeat quickened—not from her awakening, but from the unfamiliar anxiety that began to twist her stomach.
There, in the grandeur of the council room lit by floating crystal chandeliers, stood her sister Katarina—elegant and dignified even at fifteen, dressed in formal navy and white robes. Her black hair had been carefully braided, and her black eyes—those mesmerizing voids—were locked onto a silver-haired boy seated beside her, smiling with an air of charming nobility.
Lucien Velebrandt.
His hair gleamed under the chandeliers like liquid starlight. His mismatched red and gray eyes seemed to flicker with amusement as he whispered something to Katarina. To Helena's surprise… Katarina blushed.
Katarina. Her brilliant, untouchable sister. Laughing. Smiling. Talking softly to a boy Helena had never seen before.
"...a political marriage would strengthen both our houses," came the voice of Grand Duke Velebrandt. "We've discussed it at length. Katarina and Lucien are of age. This engagement shall benefit the Empire."
"Lucien's talents are maturing," Seraphina added with a graceful nod. "He's due to begin training at Reinegard Academy. Imagine the stories of a Velebrandt and an Obrechtz standing side-by-side in that esteemed institution."
Helena's breath caught in her throat.
Marriage?
She took a half-step back from the door.
Katarina… and him?
She looked again through the crack. Her sister didn't seem distressed. She wasn't objecting. She laughed at something Lucien said, her voice soft and light like a melody Helena had never heard before.
Helena's hands trembled. The torchlight nearby shimmered against her freshly awakened aura, but no one noticed her presence—except perhaps her parents, who flicked brief glances toward the hallway without addressing her.
'It's fine,' Helena told herself. 'If big sis is smiling… then it must be okay.'
But deep down, something gnawed at her. Something unseen. Instinctual.
The way Lucien's smile lingered too long on her sister's face. The subtle pride behind her parents' eyes—not pride in her awakening, but in this budding alliance. In the prospect of merging their bloodline with the Velebrandts.
Helena clutched her chest. She had wanted to burst into the room and shout, "I refuse of this marriage! I am one of the 16 Heroes!" But now that moment had passed. She wasn't the center of the future anymore. A new bond was being formed—one she wasn't a part of.
She stood in silence, watching as the boy leaned just a little closer to her sister. The way his lips curved… there was something insincere. Hollow.
And still—her sister smiled.
That night, Helena didn't speak. She didn't say a word to anyone. The excitement in her chest faded. She returned to her room and stared at the ceiling, her newly awakened powers buzzing through her veins like a forgotten song.
That moment… that single night, became the first of many regrets.
The regret of not speaking.
The regret of not stopping it when she had the chance.
The regret of trusting a smile.
And most of all—the regret of letting him near her sister.
The marble gates of Reinegard Empire Academy opened like a maw swallowing the youth of the continent. Towering walls carved from starstone, obsidian runes pulsing along its length, and banners of all twelve races flapped beneath a sky streaked with mana-light. Here stood the cradle of legends—a sovereign academy spanning multiple city sectors, protected and governed by the Twelve High Councilors, the paragons of their races.
And here… began the slow unraveling of Katarina Obrechtz.
After the formal engagement discussion between House Velebrandt and House Obrechtz, Katarina, aged fifteen, was accepted into Reinegard. With her overwhelming potential and aristocratic lineage, she was fast-tracked into the elite sector of the academy, alongside the heir of House Velebrandt—Lucien, a boy whose aura reeked of self-importance even before the first duel was fought.
Helena had only just awakened. Still ten at the time, her days were filled with the thunderous collisions of blades and the stormy chants of spellcraft. A vast underground arena beneath House Obrechtz had been designated her personal training field—a cavernous expanse lined with obsidian, its air constantly trembling from her burgeoning aura.
There, she trained alone.
There, she honed herself in silence, her determination fueled by dreams of saving lives—of becoming someone who could make the world better. Not for glory, but for the family she adored. She pushed herself further every day, her body often collapsing under the weight of the very talents that elevated her.
Her first EX-Rank talent: Limit Breaker—an unforgiving power that shredded the body's natural limiters, letting her evolve past even SSS-Rank boundaries. Her second: Absolute Aura Denser—a monstrous concentration of life-force twenty times denser than any warrior should carry, a brilliance that made even veteran knights tremble.
But nothing in those years of training could prepare her for the slow, invisible horror that befell her sister.
The first time Katarina returned home during a semester break, she wore shadows beneath her eyes. Her usual poised elegance now tinged with weariness. Her smile was the same… but not her eyes.
"I'm fine, Helena," she had said with a tired smile, brushing aside the concern. "Academy's just... demanding."
Helena wanted to press further. Her instincts screamed something was wrong. But the joy of simply having her sister home again stayed her voice. Instead, she shared tea with her under the starry canopy of the Obrechtz estate garden—like they always used to.
Another year passed. The second visit brought even more changes. Katarina's complexion was paler, her smile tighter, her responses shorter. And still—she spoke of "being fine." Of "just stress." Of "needing rest."
And Helena let it go.
Their parents—Maximilian and Sophia—had grown more distant. The Empire was under siege from within. The Abyssian King's resurgence had thrown the continents into madness. Cults emerged. Abyssian contracts were being discovered among high-ranking nobles. Horrors born from blood rituals roamed the night. And the Obrechtz, charged with handling internal threats, were stretched thin—exhausted from quelling revolts, purging hidden traitors, and conducting nightly interrogations of suspects who smelled of the Abyss.
And in that tidal wave of darkness… they missed it.
They all missed Katarina's descent.
Until one cold morning—three years into her enrollment—a knight from Reinegard arrived at the Obrechtz estate, his armor scorched and chest bleeding through cracked plates.
"Young Lady Helena…" the knight knelt, voice trembling, "I bring urgent word from the Academy... It's about Lady Katarina."
Helena, now thirteen and radiant with the light of her two EX talents, froze mid-swing in her training. Her aura flickered like fire catching wind.
The knight bowed low, his voice quaking. "Lady Katarina… she was caught during an Abyssian ritual. Her mana was corrupted. The professors— they... they were forced to eliminate her. She—"
"What did you just say!?"
Helena's vision swam. Her hands shook violently. Her mouth parted as if to scream, but no sound came out. Her mind spiraled—not from the words she heard, but from the memories they shattered.
She remembered it all too clearly now.
The way Katarina would return home with heavier steps each year. How her smiles became thinner, less genuine. The way she once dozed off mid-conversation, dark circles sinking beneath her eyes like bruises that no one dared speak of.
Back then, Helena had asked, "Are you alright, sister?"
And Katarina had replied, "Just schoolwork. Just tired."
And Helena—young, trusting—had believed her. She had smiled and nodded and let her go rest.
That was the moment. That was when she could have pressed harder, could have pleaded, could have demanded the truth. But instead, she had let silence win. She let her sister Katarina shoulder her agony alone.
Now, that silence screamed louder than anything she had ever heard.
"This is my fault…" Helena thought, trembling with guilt. "I should have noticed… I should have fought to know. I should've been there."
His words were cut short by a sonic explosion.
Helena's aura detonated with seismic intensity, shattering the ground beneath her feet. A blinding pillar of gold light burst into the sky, illuminating the estate and sending shockwaves through the air. Her scream pierced the night, echoing across the domain like a clarion call.
"You're lying!"
"You're lying!!!"
Moments later, Grand Duke Maximilian and Sophia materialized beside their daughter, having sensed the cataclysmic turmoil from miles away. Their arrival coincided with the peak of her anguish, as she knelt on the ground, her aura writhing like a living thing. Her cries were so intense they seemed to shatter the very stone beneath her, the tiles cracking in concentric circles around her kneeling form.
Sophia rushed forward, embracing Helena in silence, holding her tightly as if to keep her from falling apart.
Maximilian's gaze turned to the knight. Cold. Terrifying.
"What… did you do to my daughter?" His voice was low—but laced with such killing intent the knight collapsed on his knees, vomiting.
Before Maximilian's sword could leave its sheath, the butler—his lifelong right hand and SS-Rank warrior—appeared behind the knight.
"My Lord," he said with visible reluctance. "I… I have brought terrible news."
And then he presented it—a sealed parchment. The crest of Reinegard etched with blood-red wax.
Maximilian took it. Read it. Again. And again.
His hand trembled.
"This… can't be true…"
He groaned—a sound no soldier had ever heard from him before.
Even the flame-haired Archduchess Sophia lost composure, clutching her chest in disbelief.
Their daughter—gone. Corrupted. Executed.
Not by war… but from neglect.
Present timeline.
The garden's lanterns flickered beneath the silver gaze of the twin moons. The air was crisp with evening chill, the faint sound of music and laughter drifting from the great hall where Katarina's tenth birthday party carried on.
At a stone gazebo draped in hanging roses and silken curtains, Helena sat across from her sister, who was once again whole—smiling softly as she picked at a strawberry tart, unaware of the storm buried in her sister's heart.
Helena poured tea. Her expression serene.
…Helena smiled as she watched her big sister nibble on a pastry, the candlelight of the garden lamps reflecting softly in her elder sister's eyes.
But beneath that smile—deep beneath—her mind wandered to darker thoughts.
"Back then, my emotions were unstable," Helena reflected silently. "I was only ten… I didn't understand grief. I only knew I was angry. Angry at the world, at the academy, at the silence… at myself."
When she turned fifteen and entered Reinegard Academy herself, she tried to bury her pain. Forget, keep moving forward, she told herself.
But forgetting Katarina was impossible.
And over time, something didn't sit right.
Her sister—gentle, proud, and resolute—would never have joined the Abyssians. That wasn't her. Helena knew her sister better than anyone. There had to be an outside force.
Then, one name resurfaced again and again.
Lucien Caelum Velebrandt.
Her sister's fiancé at the time. Charming on the outside. Untouchable. But after his graduation…
Massacre.
The entire Velebrandt estate was razed—every noble, every servant, her own parents—slaughtered as part of a ritual. A blood sacrifice… all orchestrated by Lucien, now revealed as an Abyssian contractor.
Helena had nearly lost her mind.
"A plan that massive couldn't have been made overnight," she deduced. "It had to be nurtured, built in the shadows over years. If it ended the day he graduated—then it must have begun when he enrolled."
And if it began then—when Katarina had first become his fiancée—then he was already one of them from the start.
Sis… I'll protect you this time. Even if the world calls me cruel. Even if I have to kill Lucien a thousand times over… I will never let you fall again.
Elsewhere…
In the lavish Velebrandt mansion, Lucien jolted upright in bed, cold sweat trickling down his temple. The soft ticking of a silver wall-clock echoed in the silence. The fire in the hearth had died down.
He looked around, disoriented.
"...The couch," he muttered.
He vaguely remembered falling asleep there. Marie must've carried him here. Outside the wide crystal windows, the twin moons glowed faintly, casting long shadows across the velvet-carpeted room.
Lucien frowned.
There was… something. Something wrong. A chill he couldn't explain.
He glanced at his reflection in the mirror across the room.
His silver hair.
His mismatched eyes.
"…Just a dream," he whispered.
But the unease wouldn't leave.
So he laid back down—and tried to forget the feeling.