Scene Shift
In a certain room, seated upon a luxurious chair beside countless stacks of documents, a muscular middle-aged man worked tirelessly.
That man was none other than Konan.
He was deeply focused, processing a mountain of important paperwork.
Under normal circumstances, things would have continued this way—Konan handling everything in place of the clan head, managing all matters within the small territory so that the head could devote full attention to affairs in the capital.
But then—
A thunderous sound erupted.
Zap… zap… BOOM.
It was the sound of lightning… even though the sky had been clear and bright just moments before.
The sheer volume shattered Konan's concentration. Startled, he dropped the paper in his hand and quickly turned toward the window behind him.
A radiant blue light flooded nearly the entire frame of the window.
Squinting as he looked outside, shock was written all over his face.
Unable to suppress his astonishment, thoughts surged through his mind.
"A… a blue lightning strike? Or something resembling lightning…"
"It's connected to a small black cloud. By all logic, it must be lightning… but the color is strange."
"More importantly—if that truly is lightning…"
"…then it's a Saint-tier spell—World-Annihilating Thunder."
"Who could have cast something like that?"
"In this estate, there are only children… excluding those who could only use intermediate magic not long ago, that leaves just five with the potential."
"But realistically… casting a Saint-tier spell at six years old…"
"…in this clan, only four individuals have ever accomplished such a feat."
"The clan head and his late husband, of course…"
"And then my two eldest nephews—Leon von Velton and Elysia von Velton—who achieved it at the ages of four and five."
"Even so, doing it at six is still an extraordinary achievement."
A trace of envy welled up inside Konan.
Memories surfaced—his own first Saint-tier spell, cast at the age of ten.
Yet time and time again, his early accomplishments had been overshadowed by the prodigious sons of his elder brother.
Still, he quickly cast aside such selfish emotions.
Konan had always lived for the sake of the clan.
Pride surged within him—the pride of belonging to the most powerful lightning magic clan in the Holy Nation of Leonhart.
He took pride in being part of its legacy, in nurturing the next generation of talent… finding honor in their achievements rather than indulging in petty jealousy toward mere children.
"But who could it be…?"
"Most likely one of the Lowbro, Midbro, or Highbro siblings…"
"It would be absurd if it came from someone in a branch family…"
"…or that useless child who does nothing but sleep all day."
The thought irritated him.
His mind drifted back—
—to the day Cyan reached out his hand toward the sacred sword embedded in the great hall.
That sword had been left behind by their ancestors, planted there as a symbol of history… and the pride of the clan.
Long ago, mages had been considered inferior.
Though their destructive power was immense, they were always forced to stand behind, yielding the spotlight to melee fighters.
From commoners to great nobles, all preferred swords, spears, and daggers.
Mages were protectors of power—but also those who needed protection. They stood behind the glory of frontline warriors.
Even if they could unleash greater damage, they required time to chant.
That delay made them vulnerable.
They couldn't even manifest mana into protective barriers.
There was no strict rule—but those capable of forming mana armor, a power known as aura, would almost always choose the path of a warrior.
But then—
Everything changed.
Geniuses capable of chantless magic appeared.
They erased the inherent weaknesses of mages.
Yet even that wasn't the true turning point.
The true revolution… was lightning magic.
A system that guaranteed both casting speed and effective range.
With chantless casting, a lightning mage could stand shoulder to shoulder with a swordsman.
Back then, the Velton clan had been nothing more than a young family.
And yet—they achieved the impossible.
They defeated a great and powerful lineage—
—the Black Swordsman Clan, Viperi.
The sword embedded in the main hall belonged to the Black Sword Clan's leader from that era.
Though the Velton were a grand mage clan, they chose to display a sword as a historical symbol—a declaration of their overwhelming power, wealth, and belief.
And yet—
Cyan had dared to reach for it.
To take it.
Even touching it—
The mere memory caused killing intent to surge within Konan, his anger flaring uncontrollably.
Still, his duty remained.
To guide the younger generation in place of the clan head.
Though he had felt genuine disdain and fury toward Cyan in that moment, Konan had said nothing.
Deep within, he still wished to lead the clan's talents toward greatness—
—to create the first true Thunder God the world had ever seen.
After all, Cyan possessed the rare gift of chantless magic.
Even if his magic rank was low, he still had room to grow.
Far better than incompetent soldiers or the mediocre children of branch families.
Konan had always valued strength above all.
He didn't just want mages to stand equal to swordsmen or spearmen—
He wanted them to reign at the very pinnacle.
An existence that could never be erased—
—even across centuries of history.
With that thought, he turned his gaze back toward the window.
"I need to investigate this thoroughly…"
"…and uncover the one who wields that mysterious power."
With resolve in his eyes, Konan gathered the documents on his desk—
—and left the room.