Sold By My Parents, Raised As Disposable, Thrown Out When The Device Broke, Now I'm The Front Page

His own parents sold him to a noble family before he was old enough to understand why. The Drayton household took him in under a conduit contract — a polite word for ownership. They needed a water mage to fill the gap in their bloodline, and they trained him like one. Years of ritual conditioning, forced runs past collapse, and a life without a surname because tools do not get names. Then came the aptitude test. The device that was supposed to confirm him as their water mage returned a single word: ERROR. Not fire. Not earth. Not water. Just ERROR. His foster father threw him out that same night. Into the rain, barefoot, with nothing but the conditioning scars on his back and a result nobody could explain. He should have died in that forest. A massive wolf-like creature found him before anyone else did. He collapsed at the edge of a road, soaked and half-conscious, and waited for whatever came next. What came next was a silver-haired girl on horseback. She healed him. Took him home. And handed him a sword her family had kept for two hundred years — a sword that had rejected every noble who ever touched it. It chose him. The failure. The boy with no name. The device that said ERROR. The sword turned his mutation into ice so cold it froze the entrance exam, the survival race, and every scheme his old family launched to drag him back. Within weeks, the same Drayton household that threw him away was arrested — not for what they did to him, but for the corruption they built trying to destroy him. Six weeks after the rain, his face was on the front page of the kingdom newspaper. Gold medals. National recognition. The boy with no surname, standing in a photograph with the friends he never expected to earn. But the kingdom had enemies older than any noble family. A secret society with roots in the demon world had been watching him since the day the device said ERROR. His ice mutation was not a mistake — it was a signal. Something in his blood called to them. A demon wearing a student's face infiltrated the academy. It corrupted his closest friend, turning her dormant bloodline into a weapon aimed at him. He refused to fight her. He held her instead — not as a lover, but as someone who had failed to notice she was hurting — and the corruption broke. Then came the rooftop. A deathmatch against the demon that nearly killed him. A sacrifice technique that should have ended his life. And a mysterious woman with inverted eyes who appeared in the moment between life and death and left a mark on his chest that no one could explain. The mark saved him once. It will save him again — at the worst possible moment, in the middle of a tournament, when a demon tears through the sky, lands in front of him, and says one word. Brother. The boy two families threw away is about to learn that the thing that made him wrong to them made him family to something far worse. And the sword that chose him on the worst night of his life was never waiting for just one hand. It was waiting for two.