Side Story: A New World

My name’s Eli Aestor, seventeen, living in Hris City, the economic heart of the Repua Empire, at 30 Milan Street, Horton District—words lined up like soldiers.

Dad’s name is Yorson Aestor, Mom’s Sarah Reeve—two lanterns in our small house.

Talking to yourself? This is called an opening line! The voice cut in like a drumbeat in fog.

...hey, stop stealing my lines... The protest fluttered like a startled sparrow.

Eli! What are you still doing in the bathroom? We’re gonna be late! Angela slapped the door like hard rain, one hand clutching her belly like a knot of snakes.

He eased the door open like pushing through reeds. She yanked him out and dove in like a fish into a wave.

He sighed, the breath cool as dawn mist. Angela, could you try being a lady? What if no one marries you?

When your damn brother and father hog both toilets for half an hour, and your stomach’s killing you, let’s see you act ladylike! Her shout cracked like thunder.

He shrugged and drifted to the table like a leaf on a stream.

Mom smiled, warm as tea steam. Eli, don’t bully your sister.

Got it, Mom. He lifted a shoulder and grinned, easy as sun on tiles.

Sarah set breakfast down, the plates clinking like wind chimes. Eli grabbed toast and milk and flashed a smile. Alright, Mom, I’m heading out.

Eh? Not waiting for Angela? Her head tilted like a curious bird.

She’s probably gonna be a while. I’ve got stuff at school. He slipped on his shoes at the foyer like stepping into armor, bowed to Sarah. I’m off.

Be careful on the road~ Her voice trailed like a ribbon in breeze.

Eli opened the door and drank the first breath of morning, cool as dew. He hefted his bag and breakfast, waved at Sarah, and shut the door like closing a lacquer box.

Another beautiful day... probably. His murmur skated like a pebble over water.

A soccer ball cut the air toward his head like a diving hawk. He turned and shot it a look, sharp as a blade—pop—the ball burst midair like an overripe fruit and thudded to the ground.

Ahhh! My ball! The neighbor brat wailed, voice thin as a reed.

Eli ignored him, scratched his head like a puzzled cat, and kept walking under the pale sky.

Maybe I’m the avatar of bad luck, he thought, a storm cloud tied to my shadow.

Class time came like a bell. He sat, opened his textbook, and stared out the window at the world, blue as washed silk.

Hello, everyone. I’m Klas, your teacher for elemental magic... The new teacher’s intro buzzed like a sleepy fan.

The sky was so blue, the clouds so white; his thoughts drifted like kites on a spring wind.

Uh, Eli, please answer how to draw the runes for a basic Fire Orb. The voice from the podium tapped his name like a finger on glass.

Eli didn’t react. He kept gazing outside like a statue in a garden.

Eli? Is he absent? The teacher’s doubt rose like a small wave.

His front-desk neighbor turned and whapped him with a book—thunk—like a mallet on wood. The world snapped back into focus.

He stood quick and bowed, a reed in wind. Sorry, teacher, I’m here.

Oh, Eli. Then please demonstrate the rune structure for a low-grade Fire Orb. I trust you can handle that, or you wouldn’t be daydreaming. The teacher smiled, eyes narrowed like a fox in sunlight.

Eli scratched his head, a little awkward, like a boy caught in rain. Okay, sir.

He traced in the air, fingers flowing like brush on rice paper.

From the podium, Klas’s eyes narrowed further, amused as a cat. Good technique, steady mana ripple... a prodigy? The thought gleamed like a coin.

Emmm, something like that? Eli’s grin was sheepish as a moonlit pond.

Excellent, excellent. You’ve got good hands. Practiced at home? The praise rang like a bell.

Uh-huh. Probably. His answer hovered like smoke.

Pro... probably? The word stumbled like a pebble.

Er...

Never mind. Even with practice, that’s skill for your age. Since you’re so capable, would you— The offer opened like a fan.

Thanks, sir, but no. I don’t want to be class rep. His refusal was soft as falling ash.

Oh... is that so. What a pity. The teacher’s regret faded like a sigh.

Eli let out a long breath, the relief cool as shade, and sat down.

The girl in front turned and smiled, eyes bright as river-light. Didn’t know you were that good.

Emmm, it’s okay. Eli shook his head with a helpless smile, like a leaf dodging rain.

No need to be modest. I can’t write runes that fast. Her laugh chimed like glass beads.

He blinked, a little awkward—heh-heh—like a hiccup in silence.

Catching the discomfort, she only smiled and turned back, listening like a crane at a pond.

Eli folded over his book and watched her back, quiet as moss. I think her name’s... Edlyn, right? I should apologize. Did I cross a line?

...................... The afternoon slid away like sand through fingers.

Eli~ Edlyn’s voice floated from behind, light as a breeze. He yawned and turned.

Her white hair streamed in the evening wind like frost smoke over water. It’s after class—want to chat? Her smile bloomed like a pale flower.

He blinked. She was beautiful, like moonlight on a lake. But with his cursed luck, better not stir the water.

He bowed. Sorry, Edlyn. I was out of it this morning. Thanks for the help. Gratitude settled like warm rain.

He turned to leave, steps quiet as a cat.

Don’t you want to know why you’re unlucky? Her words hooked like a fishline.

You... know? He stopped, turned slow, eyes narrowing like closing shutters.

Hands on hips, she smiled, bright as flint. Of course.

Then who are you, and why do you know? His voice held steady like a held breath.

Because... I’m of the Demon Race. Edlyn’s smile was faint as a crescent moon.

Demon Race? Weren’t they wiped out? And what’s that got to do with my bad luck? His brow furrowed like plowed earth.

Because you’re human, yet you carry our hope of revival. Her gaze settled like a weight.

Revival of the Demon Race? The words fluttered like moths.

Uh-huh. You’re shouldering fate that isn’t yours, and it’s crushing your own luck. Her tone dropped like a stone into a well.

You don’t mean... The thought gathered like stormlight.

Huh?

You’re a dramatic edgelord? The jab flashed like a thrown pebble.

You dare doubt me! She stomped, sparks kicking up like angry fireflies.

Mm, no. Anyway, miss, I can’t play along. I’ve got homework tonight. He waved, the gesture light as drifting ash, and turned.

You! Fine—let me show you the might of the Demon Race! Edlyn bit down her words. Black flames climbed her like a storm cloak, and she lunged.

Eli frowned and slipped aside like a fish in a brook. The surge was huge. A lick of miasma kissed his skin.

He froze. Pain spread from that touch like ink in clear water.

Clutching his arm, he crouched, eyes steady as iron. That’s... demonic miasma? You really are—

Heh-heh! Believe me now? Do as I say, and I’ll pull the miasma out. She flashed small fangs, grinning like a fox at the henhouse.

Brows knit, he rifled his mind like old shelves. He chanted an ancient incantation. Pale-gold light poured from his right hand like dawn down a valley.

He pressed it to the wound on his left arm. The miasma melted, thread by thread, like frost under sun.

Ugh—Sacred Qi magic! Edlyn gasped, voice ringing like struck crystal.

Eli lifted his head, calm as a still pond. Edlyn, should I deal with you now, or report the Demon Race to the Church?

You... damn it. Her glare gathered like stormclouds.

There’s a third choice. His words fell like cool rain.

...

From now on, don’t bother me, and I won’t tell anyone. You chase Demon Race revival. I’ll be a student. We don’t cross lines. Deal? He stood, shade-cool and steady.

How dare you look down on me! She snarled. Tiny Fiend wings unfurled on her back like inked petals, and she darted in.

Stubborn. He frowned. The old incantation coiled in his fist like a waiting snake, and he met her charge.

They grappled, bodies tangling like wind in tall grass.

To break his bad-luck “curse,” Eli had studied piles of ancient magic, page after page like fallen leaves.

Sacred Qi caught his eye, so he learned it; by fate or accident, it fit like a key in a lock.

Moments later, the newborn of the Demon Race couldn’t match an old monster who’d studied for over ten years.

Eli’s palm smacked between her shoulders. She tumbled and hit the ground, a toppled kite in dust.

Uu... bully. What kind of high schooler learns Sacred Qi magic? Her lip trembled, tears beading like dew.

Eli sighed. He looked at Edlyn’s disheveled clothes, then shook his head. He straightened her collar, gentle as smoothing silk. Alright, Miss Demon. Go home.

Mm... I’m not convinced. Why is my clan’s fortune tied to you? She mumbled in his arms, sulky as a rainy day.

He shook his head, about to speak—then she lunged to his shoulder. Her teeth sank into his neck like winter’s bite. Bet you didn’t expect this! I’m half Bloodkin!

Mmph—You!