From Magicless Heir to the most Powerful Wizard

From Magicless Heir to the most Powerful Wizard

Eloho Gideon · Ongoing · 152.1k Words

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Introduction

Zephran Vespera was born into the most prestigious magical bloodline, yet his hands remain completely empty. While his younger brother is hailed as a prodigy, Zephran is branded a stagnant failure and a heavy burden on his family legacy.
What his parents and the entire wizarding world do not know is that Zephran is not weak. His magic was not lost. It was consumed.
Years ago, a desperate attempt to awaken his powers bound him to Vaelkar, an ancient and ruthless dark wizard who brought the continent to its knees centuries ago. Now, the fragmented soul of the fallen conqueror resides within Zephran, feeding off his magical core to survive.
Forced to enter the elite Aethelgard Arcanum as a pitiful mortal outcast, Zephran must endure the scorn of the magical society. But a dark pact has been made. In exchange for carrying the ancient entity past the school wards to reclaim the rest of his fractured soul, Vaelkar will teach Zephran the forgotten and forbidden arts of the void.
They thought he was a magicless failure. They were completely wrong. Zephran is about to forge a terrifying new path to power, and the entire realm will soon learn to fear the heir they once discarded.

Chapter 1

The stone floor felt like ice against my knees. I stared at the massive oak doors of my ancestral home. Rain pounded the stained glass windows, casting fractured and distorted shadows across the marble floor. Lord Kaelen stood above me. His gaze held zero warmth. The storm outside matched the coldness in his eyes.

"A son with no magic is no son of mine. You are a disgrace, Zephran."

My father spat the words out like venom. He wore his grand council robes, a symbol of the immense power I could never inherit. The intricate gold threading on his collar mocked my ruined state.

My younger brother stood beside him. Xylian held a ball of blue fire in his palm, tossing it up and catching it. The flames cast an eerie glow on his smug face.

"Leave him, Father," Xylian said. "He taints our air. We have an elite lineage to uphold and no time for dead weight."

I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted iron. I kept my head down to hide the sheer rage burning in my eyes. My parents thought my core was stagnant. They assumed I was a broken vessel incapable of wielding arcane power. They viewed me as dirt beneath their boots.

They knew nothing.

A voice echoed in the back of my skull. It sounded like grinding ash and crushed bone.

"Let them gloat." Vaelkar shifted inside my mind, a physical weight pressing against my thoughts. "Their arrogance is a weakness. We need their blind confidence to survive the coming days."

The ancient dark wizard consumed my magic five years ago. I remembered the exact night. I wanted to prove my worth to my harsh father. I sneaked past the arcane guards and broke into the forbidden vault beneath the estate. I sought a catalyst, something to ignite my dormant spark. I searched through chests of cursed gold and rusted armor. Instead, I found a black obsidian pendant pulsing with ancient malice. I reached out to touch it. I wanted power. I got a parasite instead.

Vaelkar woke from a centuries-long slumber. He drank every ounce of my magical potential to anchor his fractured soul to the living world. The sheer pain tore my mind apart. When I woke up on the vault floor, my core was a barren wasteland.

Now we shared a single host. My body. I harbored the worst monster in recorded history.

"Pack your things for the Aethelgard Arcanum," Lord Kaelen ordered, breaking my thoughts. "Go as a servant. Scrub their floors and serve the true mages. Strip the Vespera name from your tongue."

He threw a rough canvas sack at my feet. It contained my meager items. Two sets of plain clothes and a crust of stale bread. The heavy oak doors slammed shut with a deafening boom. I was cast out into the harsh storm.

I stood up. The relentless rain washed the mud from my face. I gripped the canvas sack tight in my hands. The freezing wind bit through my thin shirt, but the fire in my chest kept me warm.

Are you angry? Vaelkar asked. His voice resonated with dark amusement.

"Yes," I whispered into the wind.

Good. Channel it. The Arcanum holds the first piece of my true power. Get me inside those wards. I will teach you the forbidden arts of the void. You possess no spark. You must become the abyss.

I walked toward the towering iron gates of the estate and refused to look back. I had a pact with a monster. I would use him just as he used me.

The walk to the academy took hours. The storm raged on, soaking me to the bone. My boots slipped on the muddy path, but I kept moving. The promise of vengeance fueled my steps. The sun broke through the thick clouds just as the enormous spires of the Aethelgard Arcanum came into view. The academy sat atop a jagged cliff, a towering fortress of white stone and shimmering magical barriers. It looked like a monument to the elites who ruled our world.

The sunrise brought me to the entrance gates. Thousands of hopeful students gathered in the grand courtyard. They wore fine silk robes and carried wands forged from rare woods and dragon heartstrings. I stood among them in my soaked, ragged clothes. Gossips and pointed fingers directed my way. I ignored the rich heirs and their mocking laughter. I focused on the task ahead.

A massive stone archway glowed with ancient runes ahead of us. A proctor in silver robes stepped forward. He held a bright crystal orb the size of a human skull. The vast crowd fell silent. The air hummed with raw energy.

"Servants and the magicless to the left," the proctor announced, his booming voice amplified by a spell. "Mages step forward and touch the resonance stone. This will measure your core and determine your rank within the academy."

He paused and narrowed his eyes at the massive crowd.

"Be warned. If you possess dark energy, the stone will shatter, and the guards will execute you on sight. We do not harbor corruption."

My blood ran cold. The Arcanum guards drew their runic swords, the sharp steel glinting in the morning light. They stood ready to strike down anyone who failed the purity test. I possessed no normal magic, but I carried the essence of the darkest wizard in history.

Vaelkar laughed in my mind, a chaotic sound that rattled my teeth.

Let us see if their ancient toys can handle the abyss, Vaelkar taunted.

The magicless boys and girls around me lowered their heads in shame and shuffled to the left. They accepted their grim fate as floor scrubbers and dishwashers.

Instead of stepping left to join the servants, I broke rank. I ignored the gasps of the noble students next to me. I stepped forward, raising my hand. I reached out toward the glowing stone.

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