"I didn't know what it meant to be born broken… until I realized everyone else was 'fixed.'"
In House Virdane, you don't live—you function.
From the moment you're born, the System hovers over your cradle. A glowing orb scans your blood, your soul, your lineage. Then it declares your place in the world. [Race], [Class], [Level], [Potential].
Except… mine didn't.
No scan. No light. No numbers.
Just silence.
I was four when I understood what that meant.
No class = no training.
No level = no recognition.
No system tag = no future.
At first, I didn't feel left out. I had my mother. Lady Rynella—the fifth wife, the last, and the only one who held me as if I mattered.
She raised me in the eastern wing, far from the golden corridors where my elder brothers laughed, trained, and fought.
Mother's room smelled like herbs and honey. She grew her own flowers, healed small creatures, and told me stories—stories that didn't come from system-approved archives.
> "Long ago," she whispered, brushing my hair, "the stars didn't care for numbers. They only cared who you were when no one watched."
Those were the only nights I slept easily.
But outside our little corner of peace, House Virdane thrived on power and rank.
There were fifteen children. Eight boys, seven girls.
All except me had classes. Some shined with warrior auras; others were destined for throne-bound roles or guild leadership.
Among them, three sisters stood by me.
Sarella, Linne, and Isha—gentle, clever, and always willing to share their food with me when no one was looking.
And among my brothers… only one never mocked me.
Rhein, fifth-born, known as the Void Sentinel.
He called me "little fox."
He was strong. Smarter than most. And quiet. So very quiet.
> "The world only remembers heroes," he once said, "but it fears the ones it cannot see."
Then one day, he vanished.
They said he died.
But there was no body. No death log in the family registry.
I was too young to grieve properly. But even now… the hole he left never closed.
That absence turned sharper one morning in the Hall of Ancestry.
The family had gathered.
Father at the head.
His wives seated in a crescent behind him.
The children standing in a row before the relics of our bloodline.
Statues of blade-wielding founders. Banners blessed by the System. Crystals, stones, weapons, devices—each holding history and sealed data.
Among them stood the Soul-Stone of Verdanus.
A semi-broken, ancient artifact rumored to respond only to "heirs of exceptional class."
It had never reacted to anyone.
Not even Sylend, the eldest, whose Solar Knight class shined like daylight.
But something pulled me.
A soft vibration in the back of my head.
Like… a whisper. Not in sound, but feeling.
I stepped closer.
> [Access Locked: Class Affinity Required]
I didn't have one.
But the moment my skin touched the stone—
The room went dim.
My ears rang.
Then—whispers.
> "Unwritten… Unseen… Unending…"
Black-blue light flickered from the crystal.
I pulled my hand away in terror.
Silence.
When I turned, I saw Lady Marthesia, the first wife, staring at me.
Not in anger.
Not in confusion.
But fear.
> "What are you?" she breathed.
I didn't answer.
Because I… didn't know.