Luther

This world rests on two pillars of power: magic and the sword. Mages draw power from the mana circles that swirl within their hearts, expanding their inner reservoir with each new level. Their strength lies in mental discipline and endless training in control. Swordsmen, on the other hand, draw on the aura that accumulates in the lower abdomen, at the very center of gravity—dense, stubborn, and extremely difficult to control. It requires not mental effort, but the forging of the flesh and extensive physical trials.

Both sides share one thing: hatred for those who dared to tread the forbidden path. Magical swordsmen—those who fuse mana and aura—are considered apostates, blasphemers, despised by both sides. In their eyes, this is a desecration, an attempt to combine the incompatible, a step against the laws of the universe itself.

Luther became one of these outcasts. He didn't seek the easy way out—he needed power that transcended both pure magic and the brute force of a blade. But the price for this choice was cruel: magical swordsmen grow at a fraction of the speed of a sword. While others soared to the top, Luther found himself stuck at level fifteen, facing a wall he couldn't break through with training or theory. He sensed an answer somewhere, but knowledge eluded him, and the duke sank deeper and deeper into the despair of a man accustomed to victory, now confronted for the first time with his own impotence.

The "Fairy Tear" is more than just a legend; it's an artifact guarded by hordes of monsters, as if nature itself refuses to surrender it to mortals. According to legend, it truly is the tear of the Fairy Queen—the only one she has shed in millennia of immortality. It is said that this drop contains a fragment of her power, capable of curing any ailment, even those considered incurable and merciless. Kings and magicians have died for it, but no one has ever succeeded in obtaining it—the guards were too cruel, the traps too treacherous, the magic too ancient.

It was this artifact that Luther intended to bring to the Council. Not for their praise, not for the elders' recognition—but to prove to himself once and for all that he was worthy of becoming the next Duke of the North.

Luther is cold toward his own mother—he remembers all too well the night she reached for his throat with a dagger. Since then, only an icy void has remained between them, one he has no intention of filling. He treats his father calmly, with due respect for the current Duke of the North, but he ignores the old Duke's advice, considering it nothing more than the empty words of a man who has long since lost the taste of real battle.

For Luther, the Council of Elders is a gathering of arrogant old men, invested with power they haven't earned. He despises their way of deciding destinies from their perch, but when they offered him a mission, he accepted it without hesitation. Not because he respected their orders, but because he wanted to prove to himself that he was worthy of taking his father's place. To do this, he needed to find the Fairy Tear—an ancient artifact that would serve not just as a trophy, but as a symbol of his power and right to the title.

He wasn't looking for approval. He was looking for confirmation of his own worth.

Luther Crowley is the sole heir of an ancient family, destined to succeed his father as Duke of the North. At twenty-five, he's already accustomed to bearing the weight of his future title, and it has left its mark on his demeanor: tall, nearly two meters tall, he always carries himself with a cool dignity that belies a hidden strength.

Luther's hair—white as the first snow falling over the mountain peaks—falls to his shoulders, and his long bangs almost obscure one eye, revealing only a piercing blue gaze with a jet-black pupil. A pointed cross earring glistens in his right ear—the only jewelry he ever wears.

Within the manor, Luther prefers a strict, classic look: a black shirt, matching trousers, and his signature wrist-length gloves that conceal his fingers—as if even at home he doesn't allow himself to relax. On missions, however, his appearance becomes subordinated to comfort and concealment: a tight turtleneck that covers his neck, thick trousers that completely cover his legs, knee-high lace-up boots, and the same gloves he wears at the manor.

Luther is usually calm and composed, always kind and courteous to those weaker than him, but in battle he becomes merciless against opponents who are stronger than him. He knows no authority when the mission is at stake—he's willing to transcend any moral boundaries for the sake of his goal, without a moment's hesitation.

He never believed in ancient legends about sealed entities until, deep in the cave, he encountered something that changed his understanding of the world. A mirror found in the monster's lair revealed a different reality to him.