When an Ecnes is born, they go through a process known as dipping – a process of being dipped in a prepared sacred water, it's technique passed down from one family head to the next as the family's heirloom.
Every family has its black sheep — whether truly so or merely labeled, the troublesome one, the flawed one, the "defective" one — whatever name the so-called normal members decide to bestow.
In the Ecnes household, among the direct bloodline, Elmah fit neatly into that role. He was the defective Ecnes — or so they liked to say.
When one is born an Ecnes, there are a few things to look out for—
no, rephrase that: there is only one. Color.
After the first cry leaves your lips, what color appears in your first dipping?
Ecnes are born wise by nature, and strong by divine design. Two colors mark the bloodline: Red and Yellow. They reveal themselves at birth.
Those of the purest line—the direct descendants—shine in Red during their first dipping. The side branches glow Yellow, their purity thinner, their lineage less concentrated.
And if a newborn shows neither Red nor Yellow…
well, only the heavens know whose blood runs in that child.
Among the four children born to the head of the Ecnes family, Elmah found himself siblinged to Lady Anya.
His sister was the family's pride—sharp-witted, deadly-skilled, and driven by a burning passion for strength… which was simply a gentler way of saying she was a genius maniac.
Then there was his brother, young Lord Lant—another flawless Ecnes, no less gifted than Lady Anya, and already being groomed to become the next Royal Attendant and Sword after Lord Halh.
Then there was little Tan, his youngest brother, steadily growing into the mold of a proper Ecnes.
And then there was him—the defect.
The one whose origins, apparently, only he should know, because according to Duke Ecnes, he could not possibly be his son. No child of his would be that defective. Born with no glow at all—not even Yellow.
Zero bloodline.
How was that even possible?
Well, that was his crime, and he'd been made to pay for it all his life.
A life spent in isolation from his own family—the wrong son of Ecnes.
"Have there ever been any Ecnes born without a trace of the bloodline?
Of course. Haven't you heard of the wrong son of Ecnes—the jinxed demon?"
To think he became a demon without doing a single thing… that part was a shocker, too.
The first dipping reveals the color of one's bloodline, and the second comes at age five—when the bloodline can finally be awakened.
"Why would the wrong son of Ecnes need a second dipping? His first was as plain as they come—literally."
And, as if things weren't already bleak enough, the Ecnes household priestess delivered a prophecy on top of it:
"The ice that freezes the dynasty."
Because clearly, his life needed more complications.
But oh well.
Looking at the figure before him—Ajab, striding toward him with that same quiet confidence—dragged his mind back to the day two years ago when this very child, though smaller, had entered his room with the same grandeur and asked, with a smile:
"Would you be my sword?"
Those words were like a rope—one that tugged him out of everything that kept him closed off… though they tethered him with other ropes all the same.
Everyone had expected Lant to be chosen. He was a Red, already on the path, especially after his awakening.
So how had he entered the picture?
He was the wrong son.
Awakening was impossible.
He had no glow.
And beyond all that—how had he caught the Prince's eye?
Naturally, Father wasn't going to allow it.
And logically, it made no sense. Even if the final choice rested with the Royal Family, it still made no sense.
The trained and most capable candidate should have been chosen.
So… why him?
That day, standing before the Prince—who had, to everyone's surprise, come alone—Duke Ecnes immediately raised his objection.
"He is not worthy of serving you, Your Grace. He is barely an Ecnes, and the King has already approved Lant."
The Prince's reply from that day remained carved in Elmah's memory, unmoving, like a mountain rooted in place.
"I'm a child," Ajab had said, "so I'm not supposed to understand these things. Which means I could spoil things…"
Then his eyes sharpened—ferocious enough to make even Duke Ecnes step back.
"…but do not mistake me for one. My mother has her own ways of dealing with my problems."
Then the Prince turned to him and said,
"I'll come for you later. Until then, learn how to hold this—so you can become my sword."
And with that, he left two daggers in Elmah's hands.
To his father, he simply added,
"Have him go through his dip."
Then, with his hands folded neatly behind his back, he walked out of their mansion as if he owned the very air.
As if Elmah wasn't strange enough already.
No Ecnes used daggers—none ever had. There had never been a reason to.
But His Highness offered them to him, and the moment he held them, he felt… aligned with them. Or perhaps he had to feel aligned with them.
He knew no technique—none had ever been wasted on him.
Though, considering the Ecnes techniques involved no use of daggers, perhaps nothing was truly wasted after all.
On his fifth birthday that year, and because of the words the Prince had left him that night, he was to undergo his second dipping.
No one expected anything. His father was certain the Prince would be disappointed, and that the rightful heir would be revealed.
But when he entered the pool that day, it erupted in turmoil. Of course—what else could one expect from the wrong son? He had even spoiled the pool… or so they thought.
Yet it was barely that simple. The waters shifted, glowing a brilliant blue—the likes of which had not been seen in generations. The pool bubbled violently, like a cauldron of boiling water, hissing and sizzling in a way that burned his eyes. The thick charcoal hue of his eyes transformed into a luminous blue, mirroring the glow of the enchanted waters they still bore.
....
As His Highness stepped into the designated area, Elmah's face lit with a glinting smile. Without warning, he dashed forward, aiming straight for Ajab's neck.
Seeing his attendant take this unexpected turn in his fighting style, Ajab's heart skipped a beat. He tilted his neck just enough to narrowly dodge the attack, then aimed for Elmah's rib cage—but what he saw made him recoil several steps back.
His heart practically soared. That opening wasn't a mistake—it was a trap Elmah had set, baiting him in. Had he come any closer, his neck—or his own rib—would have paid the price. He laughed inwardly, thrilled.
This one had grown fiercer. Today's exercise would require his full attention. Elmah was clearly on his A-game.