Azariah calmly observed his firstborn son, viewing his children merely as tools to enhance the family's prestige. He never showered them with love or any form of affection; they existed solely for the family's reputation. Either they would contribute to the family's glory, or they would fade away into obscurity. He would invest in any child who showed talent, initially because this particular child was born from a woman he once held affection for. Given her mysterious background, he had hoped for a true prodigy, a once-in-a-millennium genius.
Unfortunately, the child turned out to be a disappointment, leading him to regret having loved her and wasting his time and resources. From that day onward, he abandoned both the child and the mother, discarding them as they brought no benefit to him. Even when that woman died, he felt no emotions; as the patriarch of the family, he was acutely aware of everything happening within it and knew what the child endured, yet he did nothing to stop their torment.
He felt nothing for a child he hadn't even named, expecting the boy to crumble under the burden of being a cursed child and perhaps even take his own life due to the hell he faced. To his surprise, the child's will was remarkably resilient; he never wavered and continued to live on. Still, Azariah found this persistence unremarkable, choosing to remain an observer.
Then, yesterday, he received a letter from that child requesting an audience. Intrigued, he accepted, deliberately scheduling the meeting during breakfast to exert pressure on the boy—a test of sorts. Though he was different from the rest, some family blood still flowed through him, and Azariah was curious about the extent of the boy's will.
As expected, the boy did not disappoint him.
"So what do you want to say to me, requesting an audience?" Azariah asked, deliberately increasing the pressure. As one of the Zodiacs and having reached the pinnacle of knighthood, his pressure was no joke; even a small fraction of it was beyond what someone without the blessing or the ability to wield primordial energy could endure. Yet, the boy stood firm.
While bearing the weight of Azariah's pressure and the hatred from other family members, the boy finally opened his mouth to respond.
"I'm here to announce my will to leave the family."
"What?" one of his younger sons exclaimed, surprise evident in his voice. The others looked on with curiosity.
Azariah shot a glare at the youngest, prompting him to fall silent.
"Do elaborate," Azariah said, his face betraying no emotion.
"I want to enroll at the academy and follow my own path," Nero declared, not batting an eyelid.
A momentary silence hung in the air before most of those present burst into laughter.
"Hehehehe! A worthless being has delusions of grandeur," one of his wives sneered.
"You, who haven't even received the blessing nor can feel primordial energy, want to enroll in the academy? What a joke," spat the youngest.
"Do not tarnish the family prestige any further, you cursed child!" his first wife shouted, veins popping from her neck; she was the number one hater, and the sight of this child disgusted her to the extreme.
Everyone shared their opinions, except for a few.
Azariah let them vent, calmly observing Nero. From the start, the boy's expression never wavered; it had only flickered slightly at first and then steadied.
"And why do you think I would allow someone as worthless as you to enroll, further disgracing the family name?" Azariah finally spoke.
"I don't seek your permission; I'm simply stating my decision," Nero replied calmly, causing the temperature in the hall to drop as everyone glared at him.
"What did you say, you bastard?" The second daughter shot daggers at him.
"Have you lost your mind, speaking to Father like that?" Barak remarked.
Without bothering to look at them, Nero continued. "From today onward, I have no ties to the Raizen family. While I'm grateful to have been born here, since my birth, I've faced nothing but contempt and hatred. From a young age, I learned to live for myself, doing everything on my own. It's true I lived seventeen years in this place, but only because I worked harder to survive; nobody offered me any help. I'm grateful for the house, but that's merely the reason I'm here speaking. So for me, I have no family. As I said, I've cut off my ties with this family. I am no longer Nero Raizen; I am simply Nero Adams."
Nero bowed at the end of his statement. Silence enveloped the hall, even Azariah taken aback by this declaration, his emotionless facade cracking slightly, his eyebrows raised in surprise.
The others were even more shocked. Though they deeply disliked him and wished for him to disappear, they had not anticipated he would truly discard the family name. Everything he said was accurate, but completely renouncing the family name was another matter entirely. It was true he had received no assistance since he was labeled a cursed child, yet holding onto the family name was the greatest gift he could hope for. With that name came protection, even if he was deemed cursed. The thought that he would willingly discard it was unfathomable.
Surprise quickly morphed into elation—elation that he was digging his own grave. How could they not be happy with this development?
Barak frowned, unable to comprehend what was going through Nero's mind. He shook his head; whatever happened to him was of no concern, never had been, and never would be, especially now that they had become strangers.
The second daughter snickered, looking at Nero as if he were a fool.
Finally, Azariah spoke.
"I see you've chosen your mother's last name. Very well, do as you wish." He closed his eyes, trying to suppress the mysterious emotion that threatened to intrude upon his calm and rational heart.
Nero, now Nero Adams, bowed before leaving the dining hall. His aim for the day had been achieved.