The Luminis Empire was a nation governed by light.
Not metaphorically but literally.
From the glowing crystal lamps lining the streets to the holy barriers protecting its borders, everything in the empire was built upon Light Attribute magic. To be born into the imperial family meant to be blessed by light itself.
And yet, from the moment he was born, Aurelian Lucentis understood one thing clearly.
He was unnecessary.
"The second prince has arrived."
The announcement echoed through the palace hall years ago, but unlike his brother's birth, there were no celebrations that lasted for days. No bells rang throughout the capital. No blessings from high ranking priests were urgently requested.
Because the empire already had a Crown Prince.
Caelum Lucentis the First Prince, heir to the throne, the chosen child of light.
Aurelian grew up watching from the side.
He watched nobles smile warmly at his brother, then offer him polite indifference. He watched teachers pour effort into Caelum's lessons while giving him standardized textbooks. He watched servants lower their heads out of duty, not reverence.
And Aurelian learned.
He learned how people behaved when they believed you didn't matter.
He learned how to listen more than he spoke.
And most importantly he learned how the world worked.
By the age of six, he had memorized the empire's core magic theories. By eight, he could silently correct court mages in his head while pretending to read. By ten, he had already rewritten several light formulas purely out of boredom.
No one noticed.
That suited him perfectly.
The Light Awakening Ceremony was held once every ten years within the Grand Cathedral.
This ritual determined one's affinity, potential, and place within the empire.
On this day, Aurelian was twelve.
Golden light streamed through towering stained-glass windows, illuminating rows of nobles dressed in white and gold. Bishops stood solemnly near the altar, their expressions reverent. At the center was a massive magic circle carved directly into the marble floor an ancient formation said to be blessed by the Goddess of Light herself.
Two figures stood before it.
The first was Caelum.
The crown prince wore ceremonial robes, his posture straight, his expression confident. Murmurs of admiration rippled through the cathedral.
"As expected of His Highness.""The light already responds to him.""The empire's future is secure."
Aurelian stood a few steps behind.
Silver hair fell neatly down his back, golden eyes calm and unreadable. His expression was neither nervous nor excited.
Instead, he was… analyzing.
The mana inflow is unstable, he noted silently. The formation prioritizes output over efficiency. Crude.
If the ancient magi who created the circle were alive, they would have been horrified.
"Crown Prince Caelum Lucentis," the High Bishop declared. "Step forward."
Caelum placed his hand upon the altar.
The reaction was immediate.
Light exploded outward like a miniature sun, forcing several nobles to shield their eyes. A radiant crest formed in the air behind him
complex, blazing, majestic.
"High Sunlight Affinity!"
Cheers erupted.
The emperor smiled proudly. Ministers nodded in satisfaction. This was power worthy of a future ruler.
Caelum withdrew his hand, basking in the praise.
Then silence fell.
"Second Prince Aurelian Lucentis," the bishop called, his tone noticeably flatter. "Step forward."
Aurelian obeyed.
The moment his hand touched the altar
nothing happened.
The light remained still.
The circle did not react.
Whispers spread instantly.
"No response?""Is his affinity that low?""How unfortunate…"
Aurelian heard them all.
He didn't care.
He closed his eyes.
So this is the default input, he thought. I see.
Thenvery gently he adjusted it.
He didn't pour mana.
He corrected it.
The magic circle shuddered.
Every ray of light in the cathedral bent unnaturally, as if reality itself had been grabbed and aligned. The stained glass dimmed. The holy lamps flickered violently.
A pressure descended.
Not overwhelming.
Not explosive.
But absolute.
The light didn't burst outward.
It condensed.
Compressed into something terrifyingly pure.
Behind Aurelian, a sigil manifested simple, symmetrical, flawless. No excess lines. No ornamentation.
Yet every bishop felt their knees weaken.
The High Bishop's voice trembled.
"T-This is…"
The emperor stood abruptly.
"That sigil…"
The air itself seemed to bow.
"Absolute Light Affinity."
The cathedral plunged into stunned silence.
Aurelian opened his eyes.
Golden pupils reflected the condensed light calmly.
So this is the optimized version, he concluded. I'll need to test its upper limits later.
He stepped back from the altar.
Unaware that, in that moment, the empire's balance had irreversibly shifted.
Far above, beyond mortal sight, something ancient stirred.
The Goddess of Light opened her eyes.
And smiled.