The battle concluded.
Ash and smoke drifted across the battlefield, and amid the carnage stood a boy, smiling strangely, unsettlingly. His clothes were torn, his arms bruised, but his grin never faltered.
The girl — a fierce swordswoman barely older than him — tossed him a rag to wipe his wounds. The boy caught it, staring at her with wide, exaggerated eyes.
"Ah, my lady, your kindness pierces deeper than any sword!" he exclaimed, clutching his chest dramatically.
The girl rolled her eyes, well-used to his nonsense. "Stop it with your bullshit."
The boy, undeterred, slouched against a stone, continuing, "But how could I not swoon? Such dazzling thighs... I mean swordplay! Truly divine!"
"You pervy bastard," the girl muttered, flustered. Her face turned crimson as she picked up a rock.
"If you don't shut up, I'll kill you!"
The boy leaned closer, expression unchanging, as if he enjoyed the threat. "A violent woman, hmm? Just the way I like it."
That was the last straw.
The girl unsheathed her longsword and, with a shout, beat the living daylights out of him.
The animals of the nearby forest couldn't sleep that night — the boy's wails echoed through the trees.
The next morning, bruised but still smiling, the boy prepared their breakfast over the fire. The girl stomped toward him, arms crossed tightly across her chest.
"You're an idiot," she grumbled.
"Ah, such sweet music in the morning," the boy sighed.
She stood behind him, fist clenched.
Without warning, she punched him squarely in the back of the head.
"Ow! Consent, please!" the boy gasped, mock-offended.
"Not like you got any before running your mouth," she snapped, cheeks turning red.
The boy just smiled, savoring her reaction.
After breakfast, as the girl cleaned her sword, she mumbled awkwardly, "How old are you anyway?"
The boy tilted his head. "Nineteen," he said with a mischievous glint.
Then, solemnly, he added, "But feel free to call me senpai from now on."
He winked.
The girl nearly dropped her sword into the fire.
The boy's true name was Caelum Lionheart.
He was born into the Lionheart family, a noble house known across kingdoms for their unbreakable pride and mastery of magic, engineering, and spirit arts.
But Caelum's life was cursed from the start.
At just three years old, he survived a devastating assassination attempt that killed almost all of his relatives. Only he and his elder brother lived — orphaned, wounded, but defiant.
On his twelfth birthday, Caelum unlocked his latent magic — far surpassing the academy's strongest prodigies. He wielded magic to heal, enchant, and destroy with terrifying ease. The academy crowned him as a future "pillar of the kingdom."
But with each birthday, Caelum's mind shifted strangely.
Doctors called it an "unstable heart syndrome" — trauma that warped his personality every passing year.
At times he was cold, almost cruel.
Other times, he was clingy, mischievous, and prone to teasing — especially toward pretty girls.
By eighteen, he became the Dean of the Royal Academy — the youngest in history.
But even then, whispers followed him:
"Beware the man with strange smiles."
Despite everything, Caelum never stopped searching for something.
A cure for his broken heart.
A reason to laugh sincerely again.
Thus, he set out into the wide world, seeking all the knowledge hidden across the lands — a boy whose soul flickered like an unstable flame, bright and beautiful but ready to burn out at any moment.