The night was cold, colder than he remembered. He tightened his clothes as the freezing wind passed through his clothes and make him shivered, it make him mad as the loneliness inside consume him.

Every gust of freezing wind felt like the world reminding him how empty the road home had become.

The man walked like he carry a weights on his feet, dragging it slow and heavily while having a bottle of liquor in his right hand.

While he was walking through the street, he heard a loud cry of a baby that pulled him back to reality.

The man angrily searched for the source of the sound and found a basket, Inside the basket was a baby, wrapped and covered with a royal crest cloth. 

the man froze as only nobles and high ranking families possessed such things, he wanted to run but the thought of being abandoned like the baby stopped him.

He felt the baby's pain and, without thinking, the man unknowningly wrapped the baby using his clothes and threw away his liquor and hurriedly went back to his home.

The man hurriedly went back to his home and quickly placed the baby in the safest, softest spot he could find. He then shut and locked the door, closing and covering the windows as fast as he can.

Realizing the danger, he thought of hiding the baby. He wondered why the baby had been abandoned.

after a lot of questioning he finally decided to wait for any news of a missing child, whether from the royal family or another noble household, before deciding what to do next.

"Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years."

The helpless baby slowly learned to walk, to speak, and to laugh within the small home the man had built around him.

The man gave everything he had, even trading his own comfort for the baby's safety. Time moved quickly, and before he realized it, the baby had grown into a teenager.

The man, once strong, was now got weak with age, his hair graying and his back bent, yet his heart remained tied to the baby he had saved that night.

The man who was once strong now stood as an old shadow of himself. Too many nights had passed with him walking the same streets, searching for a family that was never there. Tonight, as the cold wind passed at his bones, the truth finally sank in.

"Maybe it's time for him to find them himself," he whispered, voice heavy with defeat. "For his own good."

The boy, no, the young man who had been his only companion through countless lonely nights. Seventeen years had passed since he first cradled that abandoned infant in his arms. Now that same boy's voice rang through the streets, sharp and urgent.

"Father! Let's go back home, it's dangerous out here! The mages are coming to the city!"

The old man turned, and for a fleeting moment, the youth's face blurred into the memory of a baby's smile. the first smile that had saved him from despair. His heart clenched.

But then a thought struck him, sudden and terrifying. The boy… he could be one of them.

The child he raised was no ordinary youth. he was gifted, the rare one who could wield both ki and mana, a talent whispered to appear only once in a million years. Perhaps even rarer.

The old man rushed to his side, gripping his shoulder with trembling hands.

"Come with me," he urged, eyes burning with both pride and fear. "Let's take a closer look at those mages. Maybe… just maybe, one of them will see your gift."

The boy froze. His heart pounded at the thought. If one of them recognized his power, he would be forced to leave.

leave the old man who had been his world.

The thought of his father spending lonely nights without him carved a deep ache inside his chest

"I do not want to go," the boy muttered, his voice low but firm. "I want to stay here with you. We have lived like this for years, and I do not need anyone else."

The old man did not answer. His eyes, weary from age and burden, held a light the boy had never seen before.

It was not the look of sorrow that had shadowed him for so long, nor the quiet resignation of a man who had lost too much.

For the first time, his father's face was filled with hope.

The boy's breath caught in his throat. That expression struck deeper than any words could.

He lowered his head, silent for a long moment, before finally speaking again.

"Alright," he whispered, almost reluctantly. "Let's take a look at those mages."

The old man's hand trembled as he rested it on the boy's shoulder, pride and relief softening the lines on his face. For seventeen years he had carried the boy through loneliness and despair, yet now it was the boy who carried his hope into the unknown.

Together, they turned toward the city where the mages gathered, the future waiting like a storm on the horizon.

By the time the old man and the boy reached the gates of the city's castle, a sea of people had already gathered.

Nobles stood tall in their jeweled robes, high-ranking families pushed their way to the front, and even the lowest of the underworld crept in with hungry eyes.

Everyone had come for the same reason.

The name of a mage was not something to be taken lightly. Even a one-star mage could burn a village to ashes in moments, and the power only grew depending on the tower they belonged to.

The heavy gates creaked open.

A figure stepped out, cloaked in deep purple, the cloth flowing like a shadow, grim and reaper-like. In an instant, the weight of his presence crashed over the crowd. The air thickened, pressing down on every chest, every bone, every soul.

Before they realized it, the people dropped to their knees. Not from choice, but from pure instinct, crushed by the overwhelming pressure.

Only those who carried mana within them could resist it.

The old man stood firm. In his younger years he had lived as a mercenary, hardened in battlefields where life and death were decided in seconds.

His body remembered how to endure.

Beside him, the boy remained standing as well. Years of training had carved his body and spirit into something unshakable. He did not bow, even as those around him trembled and fell.

Among the commoners, only they stood. The rest who held their ground were the nobles and high-ranking families, whose bloodlines were already blessed with mana. Murmurs spread quickly, eyes turning to the old man and the boy who refused to kneel.

Then, a sharp shout shattered the silence.

"Enough!"

The shout carried power, vibrating with ki, sweeping through the air like a blade.

The crushing pressure dissolved instantly.

The old man and the boy exchanged a glance. Both of them felt it, deep in their bones. That was not the voice of a mage.

"That man…" the old man muttered, his eyes narrowing. "He is from Murim."

The Mage glared at the Murim warrior with clear anger. The man had stopped him, and it was like fire meeting steel. Their eyes locked, both filled with the will to fight.

"Let's go," the Mage said coldly, meaning to take the fight somewhere else.

Before they could move, a man appeared out of nowhere. He was dressed in black and bowed deeply like a servant before a king. His voice was calm but carried weight.

"Welcome, hunters. Please, do not make the LORD wait."

The word LORD made both the Mage and the Murim warrior turn serious. They understood at once that this was no ordinary summons. A heavy killing intent suddenly filled the air, warning them that if they caused trouble here, they would not leave alive.

The mage clicked his tongue in annoyance.

"Tsk. Lead the way."

As he spoke, his mana burst out in a wave, pressing down only on the butler. The man staggered, struggling to breathe, but still kept his bow.

"P-please follow me, Sir Great Mage," he said with effort.

The mage stopped, sighing as he pulled his aura back.

"Alright."

The butler gasped for air but quickly straightened his posture again.

"Thank you for your mercy, Sir Mage," he said, then turned to the Murim warrior. "Please follow as well, Sir Warrior."

The warrior gave a short nod, his expression unreadable. Both of them began to follow the butler, their earlier hostility set aside in the face of the LORD's command.

After the mage and the Murim warrior left with the butler, the old man turned to the boy. His face was serious, his eyes sharp.

"Did you look at them very well?" he asked.

The boy straightened, sensing the weight behind his father's words.

"Yes, Father. I looked at them very well," he answered with the same seriousness.

The old man let out a long sigh.

"Those people… they are only at the bottom of power."

The boy's eyes widened in disbelief. His thoughts raced. How can that be? They were already too strong… stronger than anyone I have ever seen. How can that be the bottom?

He finally asked aloud, "How can you be so sure, Father? Are they not too powerful to be at the bottom?"

The old man's gaze grew colder, his voice steady.

"Truly powerful people do not waste their time with such tricks. The ones at the top do not even need to show themselves, because normal people cannot comprehend them. They can fly through the sky or vanish in an instant. But today… there is a chance to see one."

His expression shifted, a mix of worry and excitement.

"Mages from noble households and high-ranking families are coming. Their tradition demands they arrive in carriages, escorted by armies of mages and warriors. This is our chance. If any of them notice you, they may recognize your talent."

The boy clenched his fists, then smiled.

"Yes, Father. I will do my best."

They waited together. Carriage after carriage passed, escorted by shining warriors and proud mages. To the crowd, it was a breathtaking display. To those without mana, it looked like gods were walking among men. The pressure in the air was so heavy it felt like dying a thousand times.

Yet to the old man and the boy, each passing figure was carefully measured. Each one carried mana, their steps precise, their movements controlled, as if scanning every soul they passed. But not a single one stopped. No one turned their gaze toward the boy.

The old man frowned, his eyes narrowing.

"Remember this," he whispered. "If you are recognized… do your best. And if anyone stands in your way, you must cut them down without hesitation."

The boy's face turned grim.

"Yes, Father."

More carriages rolled by, nobles and warriors who looked untouchable. The air was suffocating, yet none of them paid attention to the crowd.

And then…

A carriage appeared, different from the rest. It shone with quiet power, and the moment the boy's eyes fell on it, his heart ached. A sudden wave of sadness, of longing, welled up inside him. He did not understand why, but it felt as if something within that carriage was calling to him.

The pressure grew heavier, almost unbearable. Both the boy and the old man struggled to remain standing, their breaths ragged, but their eyes never left the carriage.

Something was different this time.

Something inside told the boy… this was the beginning. 

Inside that carriage, a woman looked out through the curtain. Her eyes landed on the boy.

For a short moment, the two of them felt something strange. The boy felt sadness and longing in his heart, while the woman also felt something she could not explain. It was as if they were connected somehow.

But the carriage did not stop. Powerful people never paid attention to such feelings. The curtain closed, and the carriage moved on until it was gone.

When all the carriages had passed, the pressure in the air became heavier. One by one, people in the crowd fell to the ground, fainting as if their bodies could no longer take it. The old man and the boy were the last ones standing, both of them breathing hard, their bodies shaking from the strain.

Then the old man's legs gave out. He collapsed.

"Father!" the boy shouted, rushing forward to catch him.

The boy was surprised. Even though everyone else collapsed, he still felt fine. It was as if something had protected him when the carriage passed by, blocking the pressure that crushed everyone else. He thought back to the strange feeling when he looked at the woman in the carriage.

He held his father tightly, lifting him into his arms. Without looking back at the fallen crowd, the boy carried his father away from the castle gates, heading home.

The night was silent once more, but in the boy's heart, the strange feeling from the carriage still lingered.

As the boy carried his father home, his steps grew heavier. He dragged his father with the last bit of strength he had, for most of his energy had already been spent during the arrival of the carriage. Exhausted, he decided to rest. He laid his father down beside a tree and sat against the trunk, trying to catch his breath.

But as he closed his eyes, a sudden pressure crashed down on him. It squeezed his entire body, leaving him helpless. His chest tightened, and for a moment he thought he would collapse. Then, just as suddenly, the pressure vanished.

Confused, the boy wondered what had just happened. Before he could make sense of it, he felt his strength return. His body no longer felt heavy but alive, as if filled with new energy. He glanced at his father, worry filling his mind, yet the questions had no answers.

A strange sound broke through his thoughts. His instincts screamed of danger. Without hesitation, he lifted his father onto his back and ran as fast as he could. He did not dare to look behind him. The only thought in his mind was to escape.

But then, a figure appeared ahead of him. Startled, the boy tried to stop, but the sudden power flowing through him was too new and uncontrollable. He pushed off the ground with too much strength, his body soaring upward while still carrying his father. Somehow, he landed safely, then continued to run until at last, they reached home.

Inside, he laid his father on the bed and quickly locked the doors and windows, making sure no one could see inside. Knowing danger was near, he reached for his father’s sword, unsheathed it, and held it tightly in his hands. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he waited in silence, ready to strike at any moment.

Hours passed. Five hours went by, yet no one appeared. The boy no longer felt the same pressure, but he stayed on guard, refusing to lower his blade.

Finally, he sighed. “There’s really a lot of things that happened today. I wish tomorrow will be different.”

He turned to his father and placed a chair beside the bed. Sitting down, he whispered, “Father, I know you only want the best for me. But I only want to be with you, and repay everything you’ve done for me. Even though I know I’m not your child by blood, you gave me happiness and everything I ever needed.”

Tears rolled down his cheeks. “Why can’t we just live a normal life, far away where no one can find us?” He wiped his eyes, then fetched a blanket and laid it gently over his father. Sitting back in the chair, he watched and guarded in silence.

But the boy did not realize he was already being watched.

In the shadows, a man stood, his face hidden beneath black silk and his clothing befitting one of high rank in the Murim world. He observed the boy and his father closely.

“So this is the child who endured that pressure,” the man thought. “That level of power could have killed an ordinary person, yet he survived. Impressive. He is only at the first realm, beginner stage, but he withstood it.”

As the man studied him further, his eyes widened in shock. He could feel a strange energy within the boy.

“This boy… he carries qi in his heart. That is no longer qi. Once it enters the heart, it becomes mana. If the mages discover this, they will lose their minds. They might even start a war.”

The man smirked and approached. He stretched out his hand, intending to test the boy. But just as his fingers drew near, the boy stirred, sensing the presence.

“Incredible,” the man thought. “He can sense me even while I use my hiding technique. Only those of equal or higher realm should be able to notice me, yet this boy feels it vividly.”

He shook his head with a faint smile. “Rest now, child. Let this senior help you.”

He placed his hand on the boy’s chest and poured qi into him, forcing the boy into a deep sleep. Then, with careful precision, he unclogged the boy’s blocked meridians, letting qi flow smoothly through his body.

Before leaving, the man whispered, “See you at the top.”

Then, as quietly as he came, he vanished into the night.