Ascension of the Forsaken Genius

Sylas sat alone in the vast gardens of House Aldreth, his small fingers brushing over the damp grass. The cool night breeze carried the distant echoes of his siblings training in the courtyard, their energies flaring like torches in the dark. Fire, wind, ice, lightning—each of them wielded something tangible, something powerful.

But not him.

It had been months since the family’s energy test had revealed the truth. He had an affinity, but not for fire, water, or any of the noble elements. Instead, he was cursed with pure energy—an affinity so rare and so useless that even commoners looked down on it.

He clenched his tiny fists, his mind replaying the look of disappointment on his father’s face, the barely concealed sneers of his older brothers. He was the son of a duke, yet his very existence was a blemish on the Aldreth name.

**What is pure energy?**

The records he had managed to sneak glimpses of in the family library provided little information. Pure energy was neither elemental nor specialized. It had no defining characteristics, no strength to call its own. While elemental cultivators could command their respective forces with ease, those with pure energy had nothing to manipulate. Worse still, pure energy was *scarce*—so rare in the atmosphere that sensing it, let alone absorbing it, was an impossible task for most. The probability of awakening it was said to be **one in ten million**.

It was an energy of nothingness. And to the world, that meant it was worthless.

But Sylas was no ordinary child.

He knew weakness. He had lived his past life in a world where power came not from bloodlines, but from intelligence and will. Even in this life, he refused to believe that energy—any energy—could be truly useless. If no one had found a way to harness pure energy, it simply meant they had not tried hard enough.

Sylas took a deep breath, closing his eyes. If elemental cultivators could draw in their respective energies so easily, then pure energy *must* exist somewhere, no matter how faint. He just had to find it.

For the past month, he had experimented in secret, mimicking the breathing techniques he had observed from his brothers. But each time, he had felt nothing. No warmth of fire, no cool rush of water, no sharp breeze of wind.

Tonight, however, he tried something different.

Instead of actively reaching out, he stilled himself.

He let his breathing slow, his heartbeat calm. He focused on the spaces between things—the silence between each gust of wind, the pause between each of his own heartbeats. He focused on *absence* rather than presence.

And then, for the briefest moment, he *felt* it.

It was faint, almost imperceptible—a whisper of energy that did not push, pull, or burn, but simply *existed*. Like a thin thread of light stretching through the void, barely there.

His eyes snapped open, his chest rising in excitement. He had found it.@@novelbin@@

The world may have called it useless, but Sylas had taken his first step toward proving them wrong. Now, he just had to find a way to make it his own.