It was just another day. In the dark laboratory, the dark mage still meticulously pursued the creation of a demon. A century had passed since the dragons and the young dragon slayers were sent away, yet the loneliness was unbearable. Each new demon turned out worse than the last, but this one… this one was a complete failure. Unfocused eyes stared at their creator, carrying a faint trace of reverence that, unfortunately, only irritated him more.
"You're just another defective product. Your mana is weak — no stronger than that of a miserable human. Killing you here would be a mercy, but… living with the knowledge of your own weakness is sometimes worse than death," the wizard muttered.
"As for a name — you don't deserve one. Go away, and take this defective product with you." A thin, unremarkable book swiftly flew to the girl, no more than eight or nine years old, still barely understanding the situation.
The book hit her chest like a feather, almost imperceptible, yet somehow felt as if it were a part of her very being. Her unfocused eyes widened, struggling to comprehend what was happening. Her lips, still unaccustomed to shaping words, barely moved.
"M-m-master?" came a quiet, uncertain sound — more like the whisper of the wind than a question.
Zeref's icy gaze, devoid of any trace of emotion or mercy, met hers. There was no anger, no disappointment — only absolute, all-consuming indifference. That look was heavier than any curse, sharper than any blade. It seemed to say, "You are nothing. You do not exist." And for the first time in her short but conscious life, she felt something like... emptiness. Not hunger, not pain, but indifference aimed straight at her.
Zeref turned away, his silhouette dissolving into the shadows of the laboratory, leaving behind only coldness and the scent of magic.
The book that had just landed in her hands felt like her heart — a soul in the human sense of the word. Zeref no longer cared what would become of this demon; she was just another defective product. The girl stared at the book for a long time, but did not rush to understand. Her creator saw no value in her — his gaze and voice were distant, as if she were trash. A fleeting desire arose within her to prove she was not worthless, but the creator's mana surged like a waterfall, while her own was barely a drop of dew. Yet, to live just to be useful in the moment? To try to earn his approval... was it even worth it? Perhaps, I really am trash. But… if not for him, then at least for myself. The girl gripped the book tighter and soon left the laboratory.
The lab was nestled deep within an unknown, tangled forest, far from civilization. Wandering through the thicket, she soon escaped the cursed place, driven more by instinct than any knowledge of direction, as if something urged her away from the suffocating walls.
The world beyond Zeref's gloomy walls was alien and overwhelming, yet infinitely intriguing. The forest surrounded her from all sides; tall trees stretched overhead, their branches intertwining to block out the sky. The air was damp and cool, filled with unfamiliar yet enticing scents of leaves, wet earth, and a barely perceptible aroma of life. Every sound, every shade of green, every breeze — all were new, and her newly awakened mind greedily absorbed them. She barely understood what it all was, but her curiosity for every detail was sharp and all-consuming. The shimmering canopy, the strange yet captivating creatures darting between bushes — all demanded her study. After two hours, the young heroine realized her folly: she was lost. Forced to stop, she had to find a way to survive in this place.
She looked like a fragile figure in an oversized white hoodie with a hood, thin arms barely visible beneath the fabric. Her bright blue hair framed a face with large, glowing blue eyes — eyes with no trace of experience, yet already marked by remarkable focus. A dark, ink-like mark adorned her right cheek, as if a seal of her demonic nature. Sharp cat ears of the same blue hue poked from the crown of her head, adding a wildness — but also a vulnerability — to her appearance.
Even the smallest creatures fled from her with enviable speed, obeying an instinct that recoiled from something unnatural. She had no survival skills, no knowledge of the human world—only the book, still resting in her hands. The connection prevented her from discarding it, but reading it was impossible, as all the pages were blank, as if reflecting her own state: a white sheet mercilessly thrown out onto the street.
The idea didn't come immediately, but the bond with the book bore fruit. As if contemplating "synthesis"—the union of need and solution—the book slowly but surely assimilated into the girl. Black lines intertwined with her core. It didn't grant any power, but her consciousness changed somehow: thinking became easier, and remembering details more effortless. Instead of chasing rabbits and squirrels, she quickly figured out how to build a simple trap using her newfound clarity of mind. And after an hour, it paid off. A small rodent was caught in her handmade snare. She felt neither the hunter's joy nor disgust. Only a cold, detached curiosity about how to satisfy the need for food. She had no knowledge of meat processing, and raw flesh was simply a way to stave off hunger. Warm, viscous blood served as an unexpected way to quench thirst, leaving a wild tang on her lips. The physiology of demons differs greatly from that of humans—only energy from food is necessary, and waste quickly decomposes regardless of the creature's type. Thus, she needed neither fire nor concern for digestion, which gave her a tremendous advantage in survival.
Such were the first days of the young demon's life. Each dawn and dusk brought new trials and observations. Her survival depended solely on precise calculation and cold-blooded assessment of outcomes. Attempts to escape the endless forest thicket led nowhere good, for the forest was inhabited not only by harmless animals but also fierce monsters whose presence felt like a constant, background pressure. One of them she had to face face-to-face.
The ground shook. Tall grasses parted as a rhinoceros, towering over two meters tall, charged into the clearing. Its massive body barreled forward like an ancient tank, clearly unwilling to stop. Locking onto the small, barely noticeable figure that had accidentally crossed its path, it rushed at terrifying speed. Miraculously dodging the first swift strike, she realized that fleeing was her only course. Her mana was but a drop, and her physical strength no more than that of an adult human. She didn't want to die here, in this strange, indifferent world that was only just beginning to reveal its secrets. But no sooner had she put some distance between them than the monster pursued her relentlessly, like a machine driven mad. There was no hunger in its eyes—only rage and stubborn persistence. Perhaps she had trespassed on its territory, or maybe her unusual demon aura, weak as it was, irritated it.
The forest blurred before her eyes. Trees became indistinct patches, and her breath grew ragged despite her demonic nature. Each movement of the rhinoceros was audible behind her—heavy footsteps, ragged breathing. It was almost upon her; its massive horn lowered, aiming to pierce through, but at the last moment, thanks to her sharpened survival instincts and the brain's enhanced ability to process information faster, she dodged. Not entirely. The sharp edge of the horn grazed her shoulder, tearing the white fabric of her hoodie and leaving a deep, burning cut.
Holding her bleeding shoulder, she felt not pain in the usual sense, but an analytical awareness of the injury. Her mind, now functioning with surprising clarity thanks to the assimilation of the book, began to process the information: blood. Injury. Danger. Probability of death.
And then, at that critical moment, she began to understand why her creator had abandoned her. Without strength, without knowledge of survival in this wild forest teeming with dangerous creatures, her existence would be doubtful, almost impossible. She was a "defective product," discarded but left to live. Her unwillingness to die was strong, driven by survival instinct and a fragile newfound pride. But what use was desire when there were no means? The rhinoceros seemed to intensify its attack, closing the distance, almost upon her...
And at that moment, just as her mind feverishly searched for a way out and her body prepared for a final burst, a small group of mages appeared. A young boy named Kairon, wielding a longsword with chestnut hair; a girl around sixteen named Lyra with light hair; and another boy, Finn, with green hair. The three immediately assessed the situation: the little girl with cat ears had slipped out of the attack's path, but this time she was luckier—the sharp horn hadn't pierced her through, only grazing her tangentially.
The trio of mages would not tolerate this. Without wasting a second, Lyra conjured a circle of fire around herself, her fists instantly engulfed in dancing flames. Kairon charged swiftly at the beast, while Finn formed a bow from his mana, a bright green arrow nocked and rapidly firing at the monster. The thick, tough hide of the rhinoceros blocked most attacks, but each magical projectile disrupted its focus, slowing and disorienting it. Soon, Lyra's fiery assault scorched its massive body, and Kairon's sharp blade struck the beast's head with such force that it roared and staggered. From this coordinated, precise attack, the rhinoceros, though not killed, soon became unable to move—its powerful limbs buckled beneath it.
Our heroine, still clutching her bloodied shoulder, watched these beings with a deep, detached wonder. They were weak; their mana seemed a mere drop compared to her creator's. Yet, their skills and magic had managed to subdue a creature she, a demon, was utterly powerless against. Then why did her creator despise them so? This thought, cold and analytical, took shape in her now clear mind. What was different in their actions from his own to provoke such disgust for those capable of such feats? It was not a matter of power or pride, but the beginning of a deep, pure curiosity about the gap between her creator's words and the reality she observed — about the nature of "humans" and their place in this world.