The Road That Led Nowhere
Chapter 1 — The Road That Led Nowhere
The carriage did not slow down.
It did not hesitate.
It did not look back.
The moment my boots touched the cold stone road, the driver cracked the reins and urged the horses forward, as if remaining one second longer in my presence might bring misfortune.
The wheels rattled violently against the stones, the sound echoing louder than it should have in the empty countryside. Dust rose behind it, clinging to the air like a curtain drawn too quickly, briefly obscuring the gates of House Seras—the estate where I had been born, raised, and quietly erased.
I watched until the carriage disappeared beyond the bend of the road.
And just like that, it was gone.
No farewell.
No final words.
No one calling my name.
Not from the servants.
Not from the knights.
Not from the man who shared my blood.
I stood there for several seconds longer than necessary, staring at the empty road as if it might apologize for abandoning me.
It didn’t.
The wind brushed past my face, carrying with it the faint scent of iron and stone—the smell of the Seras estate that I had known all my life. I wondered how long it would take before even that faded from memory.
Slowly, I adjusted the satchel hanging from my shoulder. It was light—too light for someone who had lived sixteen years under one of the most powerful ducal families in the Empire of Lynndell.
A few sets of clothes.
Some books.
A small pouch of coins.
That was all I was allowed to take.
Because nothing in that house had ever truly belonged to me.
“…Guess this is it,” I murmured.
My voice sounded calm. Almost detached.
Inside, everything felt hollow.
The road to Del Santiago Academy stretched endlessly before me, winding through fields and hills like a path drawn without mercy.
Tall grass swayed on either side, whispering secrets I could not understand. Far in the distance, barely visible through the haze, rose the academy’s towers—cutting into the sky like the silhouette of a dream
I was no longer sure I deserved.
Each step sent a dull ache through my legs.
Not sharp enough to stop me.
Not gentle enough to ignore.
My body had always been like this.
Fragile.
Weak.
Unreliable.
Even walking for long distances left my chest tight and my breathing uneven. The Seras physicians had called it a “delicate constitution,” as if soft words could make it less humiliating.
I had been born too early, they said.
A child who arrived before he was ready, stealing breath from his own mother in the process.
I never saw her face.
Never heard her voice.
Yet her death had followed me like a shadow all my life.
If I hadn’t been born…
The thought surfaced unbidden, sharp and familiar, cutting deeper than any blade.
No.
I clenched my fist, nails digging into my palm until pain grounded me in the present.
Thinking like that never helped anyone.
Certainly not me.
As I walked, memories surfaced like ghosts I could never fully outrun.
The great halls of House Seras—vast, cold, immaculate. The sound of my footsteps echoing far too loudly whenever I walked alone, which was often. Servants bowing politely, but never warmly. Knights averting their eyes, as if acknowledging me for too long might invite trouble.
Affection had always been distant.
Conditional.
Earned, never given.
I remembered watching from the shadows as my uncle entertained guests, nobles laughing beneath chandeliers, while I remained unseen at the edges of the room.
You are a Seras, they said.
Act like one.
Yet no one ever taught me what that truly meant.
I remembered the Duke’s voice clearly.
Cold.
Measured.
Indifferent.
“You are no longer necessary to this house, Rikuo.”
The words had been delivered without hesitation, like a line practiced many times before.
No anger.
No disappointment.
Just a statement of fact.
As if my existence had been a clerical error that had finally been corrected.
I remembered standing there, hands at my sides, heart pounding painfully against my ribs, waiting for something more.
An explanation.
A reprimand.
Anything.
It never came.
The only mercy he had offered was my enrollment into Del Santiago Academy—less an act of kindness and more a way to wash his hands of me completely.
“You should be grateful,” a servant had whispered while I was packing my things, eyes darting nervously as if the walls themselves might be listening.
Grateful.
I wondered what gratitude was supposed to feel like.
The wind picked up, tugging at my cloak, snapping it lightly against my back. I coughed into my sleeve, a sharp pain blooming in my chest without warning. My breath hitched.
I tasted metal.
Blood.
I swallowed it down, as I always did, pressing a fist lightly against my sternum until the pain dulled into something manageable.
Using my Sigil wasn’t the only thing that hurt my body anymore. Sometimes, just existing was enough.
The Right Side of the Crown of God lay dormant beneath my skin, unseen and unacknowledged.
When I focused, I could feel it—vast, endless, pressing against reality itself.
Space bent to my will when I called upon it.
Distance collapsed.
Angles twisted.
The world obeyed.
And every time I did, my body paid the price.
Bones cracked.
Organs screamed.
Blood flowed freely.
A power far too heavy for its vessel.
And yet—
I had never regretted using it to help someone.
Not once.
Even when I lay awake at night afterward, shaking, coughing blood into white sheets that servants would quietly replace by morning.
Helping others was the only thing that made the pain feel… meaningful.
The memories I tried hardest to avoid surfaced anyway.
The Talent Selection Ceremony.
The plaza.
The church.
The massive holy platform bathed in divine light.
I remembered the air itself holding its breath.
I could still see Rufus standing tall beneath the platform, golden radiance pouring down upon him as the Sigil of the Hero descended.
The cheers were deafening.
People knelt.
Some cried.
Others prayed.
I remembered the way Alessia had looked at him—eyes shining with awe and something warmer.
Pride.
Joy.
Love.
And then—
My turn.
I remembered stepping forward, heart racing, palms slick with sweat. The orb of light hovered above my head, brilliant at first—
Then it flickered.
Twisted.
Fractured.
The symbols that appeared made no sense to anyone watching.
$#%$#%$#%#
Confusion rippled through the crowd.
Whispers followed.
Then laughter.
Then indifference.
“No meaningful Sigil,” someone had declared, already turning away.
Just like that, I had been dismissed.
No one had asked what the symbols meant.
No one had cared enough to wonder.
Except me.
I stopped walking when my legs finally demanded rest.
The academy gates were closer now.
Massive.
Ancient.
Carved with runes older than the Empire itself.
Del Santiago Academy.
A place for the gifted who lacked noble privilege.
How ironic.
I rested my hand against a stone pillar beside the road, breathing slowly until the pain in my chest subsided. My reflection stared back at me faintly from the polished surface—black hair disheveled by the wind, brown eyes dulled by exhaustion.
I’ll be fine, I told myself.
I always told myself that.
A sudden voice broke the silence.
“Hey. You lost?”
I looked up, startled.
A young man stood atop a nearby hill, cloaked in simple clothes. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes were sharp—calculating, observant.
“I… no,” I replied after a moment. “I’m heading to the academy.”
He studied me for longer than was comfortable, gaze flicking briefly to my satchel, my posture, the way
I leaned slightly to one side.
“…You don’t look excited,” he said.
I smiled faintly. “I’m not very good at showing it.”
He snorted. “That’s one way to put it.”
For a brief second, our gazes locked.
Something about him felt… heavy.
Like standing near a drawn blade that hadn’t decided whether to strike.
“Well,” he said after a moment, turning away, “good luck.”
And then he was gone, leaving behind only questions.
Someone Else’s Thoughts — Ley
That boy…
He looked thin.
Too thin.
And yet—
His posture isn’t that of someone broken.
The prince’s Sigil reacted faintly, a subtle pressure in the air responding to something unseen.
The disturbance was almost imperceptible.
But unmistakable.
Ley’s lips curved slightly beneath his hood.
Interesting.
I resumed my walk, unaware of the eyes that lingered on me.
The closer I came to the academy, the louder the sounds grew—voices, laughter, excited shouts echoing across the grounds.
Hope.
It felt distant. Almost foreign.
Yet—
When I finally stepped through the gates, something shifted.
The air felt different.
Lighter.
As if the weight pressing down on my chest loosened—just a little.
Students passed by, some glancing at me briefly before losing interest. Nobles in fine clothes.
Commoners clutching documents like lifelines.
For the first time in a long while, I wasn’t the only one standing on uncertain ground.
Someone Else’s Thoughts — Latris
Huh…?
The girl seated near the academy steps tilted her head, hugging her knees.
That boy looked… lonely.
Plants nearby stirred gently, leaves swaying despite the lack of wind.
I should talk to him later, she decided. He looks like someone who needs a friend.
I paused near the edge of the plaza, watching the crowd.
This is where it starts.
Not a glorious beginning.
Not a heroic rise.
Just… survival.
Helping where I could.
Enduring what I must.
That was enough.
For now.
High above the academy grounds, within a tower that had stood for centuries, a pair of crimson eyes opened.
Director Charlotte observed the new arrivals with quiet interest.
Her gaze lingered on one boy longer than the others.
Black hair.
Brown eyes.
A space around him that refused to behave.
“…So the crown has chosen again,” she murmured.
A smile touched her lips.
I didn’t know it yet.
But the road that had led nowhere—
Had finally brought me somewhere that mattered.
End of Chapter 1
