Ebelstein looks like a miracle city from the outside. Huge streets, rich districts, shining towers, all that. But if you take a wrong turn, you end up in the parts nobody brags about—tight alleys, dirty corners, and the kind of slums where beggars, thugs, prostitutes, and orphan kids all get mixed into the same miserable soup.
That’s where Dereck starts.
He’s just a skinny white-haired boy trying not to starve, and his first “teacher” is about as pathetic as it gets: an old beggar who stands around yelling that he used to be a legendary grand wizard. Most people treat him like a joke. He can barely throw out first-level magic, and even that looks sloppy. Truth is, he was never great. Not even close. He’s just an average mage who grew old and bitter and decided lying sounded better than admitting he failed.
But Dereck doesn’t laugh.
He looks at the old man like he’s serious and asks him to teach him magic.
The old man agrees, partly because his ego eats it up, and partly because it’s nice having someone stare at you like you matter. The lessons are messy, exaggerated, and full of nonsense… but Dereck still learns. Fast. Too fast. After a while, even the old man starts realizing something’s off. This kid isn’t normal. He’s absorbing everything like he’s been waiting for it.
Still, the world doesn’t care about talent. Magic belongs to nobles. Bloodline decides your ceiling. That’s what everyone says, and even the old man repeats it, warning Dereck that commoners always hit a wall in the end.
They keep living the only way slum people can: stolen bread, cold nights, pickpocketing, and luck. Until the old man gets himself killed trying to steal a second-level magic book from the city guards.
Dereck buries him. Takes the leftover bread. Leaves.
It’s not even heartless. It’s just… the way he is. The old man was never his family. He was a stepping stone. Dereck only needed someone to hand him the basics.
Because Dereck isn’t actually from this world.
Not long after, something like a system message appears, confirming he’s cleared the fundamentals and can now properly access first-level magic, along with an irreversible choice for his main magical school. And unlike normal mages, Dereck’s growth doesn’t seem chained to noble status.
Four years later, he’s still alive—working as a young mercenary, taking cheap jobs, and hunting for a real mentor. That’s when he runs into Katia Flameheart, a third-level illusion mage and a fallen noblewoman. She’s tough, practical, and clearly carrying her own history, but she isn’t cruel.
Katia teaches him what the slums never could: real theory, the five branches of magic (combat, transformation, illusion, summoning, detection), and the difference between survival tricks and noble training. Then, during a tavern lesson, Dereck casually casts Echo, a second-level illusion spell.
Katia goes quiet.
Because that isn’t something a commoner kid should be able to do.
From that point on, she stops treating him like a bright orphan and starts treating him like danger—because talent like his doesn’t just attract praise in this world. It attracts knives.
Soon, Katia gets pulled into noble society again, assigned as tutor to Count Elvester’s daughter, Lady Freya, tied to debutante culture and all the politics that come with it. Before leaving, she gives Dereck gear, a real magic theory book, and one last bit of advice that sounds almost… parental: he doesn’t have to grow up so fast.
Dereck is sixteen when he’s alone again. He keeps studying anyway, and the way his magic keeps climbing makes one thing obvious: the slums were only the beginning.
