How to Raise a Transcendent Archmage

[Prologue] - The Legacy of a Hero, The Shadow of Lies

“This time, I’ll tell you the story of a hero who shone during the Demon War.”

It was that story again.

I raised one corner of my mouth slightly and looked at my mother, Kaires, who gazed at the children with a gentle expression.

The firelight illuminated the children’s faces brightly.

They held their breath, their eyes filled with anticipation, fixed on Mother’s lips.

“Back then, demons crawled out of hell, and beasts and monsters trampled the borders of every kingdom. When everyone trembled in fear and hid, there was one person. A hero who, with powerful magic, held back the forces of the Great Demon.”

I slipped my hands into the pockets of my coat and leaned against a corner of the room, listening to her words.

I was already too old to sit with the children and listen to stories, and above all, this tale was far too familiar.

How many times have I heard this story?

The content was always the same.

Demons rising from hell to ravage the world, a mage and his companions fighting against them, and the eventual sealing of the “Great Demon.”

The dramatic scenes were embellished slightly differently each time, with a touch more emotion added, but to me, it was just an old fairy tale.

“Roar!”

Mother mimicked the ferocity of a demon, startling the children.

Taking advantage of the moment, I quietly stood up.

I stepped out into the chilly night air.

Walking over the winter grass, I crushed brittle, dried blades underfoot as I made my way home.

I shook off the cold that clung to my body and entered my small room, carefully closing the door.

The narrow space, with its rattling desk and creaking bed, felt unusually quiet.

A moment later, heavy footsteps approached, followed by a knock on the door.

“Claude?”

Creak—

The door opened, and Mother entered cautiously, holding a lantern.

“You left before the story was over.”

“I’ve heard it before. I just wanted to rest tonight.”

“It’s not just a story, Claude. That mage, Jinred, was your father… and you’re his child, carrying his blood.”

“…”

“You know this, but you’re destined to protect humanity from the demons that threaten the world.”

Father, Jinred.

After retiring as a mercenary, he opened a small tavern in the village and lived simply.

Then, an unknown illness slowly broke him, and he eventually passed away.

All that remained were Mother and me.

I remembered, as a child, the low, trembling voice I heard from Father’s study.

A strange, unfamiliar tone.

It clearly wasn’t a conversation with a human.

Was it really, as Mother said, the voice of a demon?

Or perhaps it was just him talking to himself.

I used to hide under the blanket, holding my breath, listening to Father and that unknown voice. Whenever I did, Mother would say:

“It’s the price for sealing the Great Demon. He was cursed.”

“So… was Father really talking to a demon?”

Even as a child, I knew Mother’s words weren’t true.

I just felt pity for her back then, but over time, that pity turned into discomfort.

“Claude, I understand you.”

Mother set the lantern on the table and sat quietly beside me.

As she reached out to touch my shoulder, I instinctively pulled away.

That reaction had become a habit by now.

Her hand froze in midair.

“It must feel suffocating, with no explanation…”

I stared silently at the edge of the bed.

“I loved your father, Claude. But his fate was inescapable. And the same goes for you.”

“…”

“The die has already been cast. There was a prophecy that when everything crumbles, a child of fate will save this world.”

Her voice was soft but resolute.

“Even if it’s hard to accept now… one day, as the descendant of a hero, you’ll have to take on that responsibility.”

Responsibility.

That word ignited the emotions I’d been suppressing.

“Hero? Fate? Please, stop it. This is just an ordinary rural village. Father was just… a former mercenary who couldn’t bear the weight of his past, that’s all.”

I took a breath and continued.

“The villagers laugh at you, Mother. Demons? Heroes? It’s all nonsense. Please, face reality. Even the caravan merchants think we’re crazy!”

“Claude.”

Mother pulled an old book from her bosom.

She pressed it firmly into my hands and said:

“This is your father’s relic. When you’re ready… open it.”

But I grabbed the book and threw it to the floor.

“If this stupid book can stop demons, bring them here right now. I’ll face them myself!”

“Shh, watch your words, Claude… A single word like that could truly summon them.”

“Mother!!!”

The village was enveloped in silence.

My shout pierced the night sky, echoing like a reverberation.

“…I want to believe you. But I don’t want to be treated like a lunatic anymore. Let Father go… please.”

That day, I believed Father’s death had broken Mother.

And I thought that madness had eventually infected her.

“Rest.”

Mother shook her head quietly, set the lantern down, and left the room.

“…Ah.”

A wave of guilt washed over me.

The words I’d just spoken replayed in my mind.

But an apology wouldn’t leave my lips.

At that moment—

“Clauuuude…”

A voice, carried by the wind from the darkness outside, whispered my name.

Through the pale mist, the silhouette of an old monastery loomed.

I pressed my lips tightly, bent down, and picked up the fallen book, shoving it onto the shelf.

And then—

Ten years later, the “fate” Mother spoke of truly began to approach me.