Aurellion Caelum's eyes adjusted slowly to the shimmering skyline before him—a dazzling contrast to the fog-draped, cobblestone dominion of nobles he had always known. This was the world outside. The human world. And it buzzed with something he never imagined he would envy—freedom.
The Kingdom of Solara, his homeland, was a massive island sealed off from the rest of the world by a mystic barrier, a veil woven from ancient magic and arrogance. Its existence had long been scrubbed from the annals of human history, hidden by an illusion that made the entire landmass vanish from the eyes of the modern world. To those within, the outside was a fable. But to Aurellion, it became a mission.
Long ago, when nobles had first tapped into magic, they had enslaved the humans around them—binding them into servitude on the island. Generations later, their descendants had become permanent fixtures of the Kingdom's lower caste. But what the nobles never realized, thanks to centuries of isolation and pride, was how far the world beyond had advanced.
The Kingdom remained trapped in a medieval age of castles, scrolls, and feudal orders. But outside—the human world had soared: cities of light, machines faster than horses, voices flying through wires, and ideas that shaped nations. All without magic.
Aurellion would've never learned this truth had it not been for his nanny, Lady Velra. She had once served the Caelum household as a quiet maid, but she was much more—a relic from the old days, entrusted with forbidden knowledge. She was the last person alive who had witnessed the massacre of the Caelum family, and though she never spoke of it, she had always looked at Aurellion with a blend of grief and reverence. On the eve of his twenty-second birthday, she gave him a faded pendant.
"This is your escape, Aurellion," she whispered, pressing it into his palm. "This sigil was carved by your mother before... before the end. It can bypass the barrier—but only once. You have to choose when."
The decision had already been made.
His 7th ability had awakened that night. Just as the pattern of his life dictated, every two years since he turned ten, another power had surfaced. It was a secret—one even the King's watchers had not fully grasped, for the nobles awakened all their powers at once, while he alone among the Founding Seven awakened them gradually. They mistook it for weakness.
But the 7th power was different. It was not destruction, not defense, not enhancement—it was escape.
Cloning.
He could create a perfect copy of himself, indistinguishable even under the most refined magical inspection. The catch? It would last one year, no more. After that, the clone would vanish into ether, and questions would follow. He had one year to vanish, make a name, and return with enough weight behind his name to shield the truth.
It had taken precise planning—his clone had slipped out of the island unnoticed, assuming the name Lucien Vale. That clone, now his public persona in this world, had only a year of autonomy before dissolving without the original nearby. Aurellion had no intention of wasting time.
The human world was loud. Messy. Incredibly fast. And yet, oddly fascinating.
Aurellion Caelum stood at the edge of a bustling street in one of the largest cities he'd ever seen—Cyra, a glowing metropolis, the exact opposite of Solara. Clothed in a dark tailored coat and sleek pants, eyes shaded beneath thin-rimmed sunglasses, to others he was just another sharply dressed, almost too-perfect young man. But inside, he was a royal anomaly walking on foreign soil.
Everything was different. Here, people lived by currency and connections. There were no blood oaths or bestowed abilities—just ruthless ambition, business, and power drawn from wealth. Here, magic meant nothing. But money—money was power.
He hated it at first.
The city reeked of unfiltered emotions—desperation, competition, obsession. People sold everything just to stay afloat. He couldn't understand their desperation until he walked the streets, slept in an overpriced hotel room, and tasted food that cost more than a villager's monthly income. Here, nothing came for free.
Still, Aurellion adapted.
He had always been observant, calculating. Raised under noble etiquette and trained in logic, swordplay, magic theory, and strategy. While others awoke with three or four abilities at 7, he was called weak—possessing only one,and awakening late at 10 unlike others. But unlike the others, every 2 years another power bloomed. The. 7th and final gift—Cloning—was unlike anything the noble families had ever seen.
At first, Aurellion walked through Cyra's glittering streets like a phantom. His noble posture, sculpted face, and air of royalty made him seem untouchable—like a character from a dream. He was cold, composed, precise. Every move was deliberate. Every word, measured. The kind of man others noticed without knowing why.
He didn't smile often. He didn't joke. His voice, like the sharp line of his jaw, was cold and commanding. Yet, in the boardroom, where men barked and brands crumbled, he thrived.
His noble upbringing left no room for error. He chose silence over noise, strategy over impulse. He trusted no one, believed in nothing but effort, and saw opportunity in every shadow. His eyes missed nothing, and his tone demanded respect without shouting.
He realized quickly that influence came through the currency of trust and image. That his looks—silver hair, intense azure eyes, posture honed by generations of highborn tradition—opened doors. And once they opened, his sheer presence sealed them.
He didn't start at the top. But he climbed.
First, he played investor. Then, silent partner. Then, under a pseudonym, he seized a collapsing tech firm and remade it overnight. His innovations weren't magical—they were logical, modern, and backed by knowledge gleaned from relentless study. The nobility had never needed to learn. Aurellion learned.
He learned to manipulate without drawing suspicion. Each board meeting, each stock negotiation, taught him how to speak the language of power in this world.
In six months, he became the CEO of Vance Technologies, one of the most promising tech corporations in Cyra. His success, shrouded in mystery, sparked media curiosity. But none could trace his past, for none could pierce the veil of Solara.
Vance Corp had no idea who Lucien Vale really was. Only that he was magnetic, ruthless, and terrifyingly intelligent. Most whispered it was due to his looks—an ethereal beauty that demanded attention even in silence. But those who worked under him knew better. Lucien—or rather, Aurellion—was a storm wrapped in velvet.
His office became a throne, his silence became legend. Yet under his calm exterior, the clock ticked.
But sometimes, he would return to his penthouse and gaze at the clone in the mirror.
One year.
Time ticked.
He had one year before the clone vanished. One year before his disappearance would draw attention. One year to build an empire. To rule a world that didn't even know it had a King-in-exile.
He needed answers.
His parents. His family. The truth of their disappearance, masked by the lies he was raised on. The human world offered more than freedom—it offered escape, perspective, and now, perhaps, the final piece of the puzzle.
And yet, even with all his focus, he hadn't expected her.
She was... peculiar. A mess of contradictions. Ordinary yet striking. Naive yet clever. She applied to Vance with only six months of experience, wearing ugly glasses and baggy clothes. Most wouldn't give her a second glance. But Aurellion read her application.
She was diligent. Passionate. Honest.
She irritated him.
Yet he hired her.
And now, in this world where kings were CEOs and wars were waged through companies, Aurellion Caelum—the crownless heir of a forgotten legacy—sat behind a glass desk, cloaked in shadows, and watched as fate knocked on his door with a girl who didn't know she'd just stepped into a storm.