CHAPTER 1 — THE BIRTH OF THE PRINCE
The storm eased only when the child took his first breath.
Inside the dim birthing chamber, heat clung to the air—thick, suffocating, like the mountain itself was holding its breath. Servants knelt in complete silence, not daring to lift their heads. No one wished to draw attention in this moment; the Titan Royal Clan was not known for mercy.
The newborn did not cry.
He simply opened his eyes.
A calm, steady gaze—unnatural for an infant—swept across the room. Quiet. Assessing. As if the child was studying every face, every breath, every weakness.
Whispers rippled through the attending nursemaids.
"…He isn't crying…"
"…Those eyes… cold…"
"…Is something wrong—?"
"Silence."The midwife's voice cut the room in half. "You stand before a royal heir."
The murmurs died instantly.
A few servants avoided looking at the child altogether. Something about the way he observed them felt wrong. Not fragile. Not innocent. As if the infant was already… judging.
A pair of heavy steps entered the chamber.
Emperor Valen of the Titan Empire—towering, broad-shouldered, his presence crushing like a descending sky—stopped beside the birthing platform. His expression didn't change, not even at the sight of his wife pale and breathless from labor.
His attention fixed entirely on the child.
"…Lucius."
The name left his lips like a decree.
The Empress swallowed weakly. "He… he did not cry, my lord."
Valen studied the infant a long time. Longer than was comfortable. The torchlight reflected off the emperor's stern gaze, revealing neither joy nor concern—only evaluation.
Lucius stared back at him.
Unblinking.
Unafraid.
For a moment, the room felt colder.
A faint shift in the emperor's expression—barely noticeable—was the closest thing to approval any had seen from him in years.
Outside the chamber, word spread like silent fire.
A prince born without fear.A child who stares like an elder.A quiet omen.
In the palace corridors, ministers exchanged controlled glances. Midwives whispered behind sleeves. Even the guards at the outer hall felt tension harden beneath their armor.
A Titan royal without wailing…That alone meant something.The elders would interpret it.The clans would weaponize it.
The empire moved quickly.
Hours later, the ancestral priests were summoned.
The priest assigned to conduct the newborn's Awakening stood over the small cradle, runic light flickering across his aged eyes. He had witnessed the birth of dozens of royal heirs—most screamed, raged, or radiated instinctive bloodline force.
But this one…
Lucius did nothing.
He watched the priest with unsettling stillness, as though already aware of what the ceremony demanded.
The priest's fingers trembled.
"…Your Majesty," he whispered, "his gaze is… too steady."
"Do your duty," Valen replied.
The priest swallowed, then placed a hand over the child's chest. Energies stirred—soft ripples of Titan bloodline force meant to awaken a reaction.
Nothing.
The cradle remained perfectly still.
Lucius merely blinked once, slowly, like an ancient judge acknowledging a trivial event.
And then—
A faint vibration.
Barely perceptible, like the hum of metal sharpening itself. The priest froze as a thin thread of primordial force coiled from the child's heart. Not explosive. Not chaotic.
Refined.
Restrained.
Controlled.
The priest stepped back in shock. "This… Your Majesty, this is—"
Valen's voice cut him off."You will speak only after your conclusion."
The priest's knees weakened, but he nodded. "Yes… Emperor."
He resumed the ritual with shaking hands, but the result remained the same—
Lucius did not flare with power.He did not roar with Titan bloodline might.He simply controlled it.Perfectly. Effortlessly. Without sound.
The Emperor's eyes narrowed.
The Empress stared silently, equal parts awe and unease flickering beneath her exhaustion.
Even the guards at the door shifted their stances unconsciously, instincts warning them of something they could not articulate.
A newborn should not feel like this.
A newborn should not feel… calculating.
When the ritual ended, the priest bowed deeply, avoiding the child's gaze.
"I… I dare not speak lightly," he said quietly, "but… the prince's bloodline behaves as if he refuses to be measured."
Valen's gaze sharpened. "Refuses?"
"He suppresses it, Your Majesty."
Suppresses.
A Titan infant suppressing his own awakening?Impossible.Illogical.And yet—they had all felt it.
Lucius observed the adults with a calm detachment, his tiny hands resting quietly at his sides. There was no curiosity in his eyes. Only comprehension, as though he understood that all present were waiting for him to act.
The midwife shuddered.
Even the Emperor, unshakeable as stone, let silence stretch longer than usual.
Finally, he spoke.
"…He will be evaluated again at one month."
The Empress almost protested, but her husband raised a hand.
"This child is different," Valen said, voice low. "He does not reveal his strength. He decides when to show it."
His gaze returned to the infant.
"And that," he added quietly, "is a dangerous habit… for a Titan."
When the Emperor left, the servants kept their distance. Even the nurse assigned to hold Lucius hesitated before lifting him.
He did not squirm.He did not cling.He did not cry.
He simply watched—calm, cold, unreadable.
Somewhere deep within the palace, whispers began circling the aristocratic halls.
The new prince is silent.The new prince feels… wrong.A royal born without fear is either a blessing… or a threat.
Only one thing was certain:
The Titan Empire had gained a new heir—but no one yet understood what kind of creature had been born into their royal bloodline.
Lucius closed his eyes, not to sleep…
…but as if already tired of the noise of the world.
And the palace shivered.