A young boy with tousled black hair and piercing blue eyes lay sprawled on the grass, with one of his hand resting behind his head. The shade of a massive tree stretched above him, gently swaying its branches with the breeze. Dappled sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting flickering patterns across his face.
Six years had passed since his arrival in this world.
Nearby, a bundle of neatly tied firewood was rested against the base of the tree—the result of his morning labor. His breath still ca in slow, asured exhales from the effort, but his gaze was focused elsewhere.
A faint ding echoed in his mind, and before him, a translucent screen flickered into view.
***
Nam3: Velren
Rac3: Human (An0maly)
Titl3(s): Fat3's An0maly | [??]
Aff1l1at10n: N0ne
This... is what people of this world called a Codex.
The Codex was essentially an interface—a mystical guide containing information about oneself and, at tis, the surrounding world. Most people used it to monitor their health, track personal progress, or reference stored knowledge. For Velren, however, it was a constant source of both curiosity and frustration.
The first ti he ever encountered it was during the chaotic clash between Fenrir and Nythra, when it had warned him of the danger surrounding him. Later, it reappeared when the old man had bestowed him with the na Velren. But for months after that... nothing. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't summon the damn thing again.
It wasn't until he was two years old—after he managed to utter his very first word—that things changed. He rembered that day vividly. Fenrir, ever the practical teacher, had instructed him, "Just say the word 'Codex,' and it will appear." Sure enough, it worked. Simple as that.
Apparently, every living being in this world had access to their own Codex. A universal ability... yet one with a highly personal touch.
But there was sothing about his status that always gnawed at the back of his mind.
His gaze hovered over the one line that never failed to bother him:
Rac3: Human (An0maly).
Anomaly. Even with the glitchy writing, the ssage was clear. He was different. Not just human—but sothing else.
Velren theorized that it had to do with his origin, or rather, the fact that he wasn't supposed to be here in the first place. He wasn't born in this world... he arrived here. And yet, no matter how hard he tried to piece the things together, the mories of his previous life remained shrouded in fog. Nas, places—everything that should have anchored him to who he once was—were like fleeting wisps of smoke, slipping through his grasp.
Still... one thing was certain: in his old world, there was no such thing as Codexes, no magic, and certainly no talking animals.
That much, he knew.
He then shifted the interface to the next subtext, revealing another section.
***
Skills:
[0bs3rvat10n]: Bas1c und3rstand1ng 0f surr0und1ngs
[Inst1nctiv3 Res1stance]: M3ntal res1l1ence aga1nst ext3rnal 1nflu3nce
Anomaly Traits:
[Fate D1vergenc3]: Y0ur ex1stence dev1at3s fr0m pr3det3rm1ned fat3.
[Syst3m Interf3rence Det3cted]: C3rta1n funct10ns may b3have abn0rmally.
His gaze lingered on the Anomaly Traits section.
Fate Divergence. He had his own theories for this thing too—as it probably had sothing to do with his origins also. He wasn't from this world, yet this concept of fate—of sothing preordained—still felt too abstract. Did his presence alone disrupt how things were supposed to unfold?
Then there was the other part: System Interference Detected. That one bothered him even more. System—did that an the Codex itself? Was it referring to how his interface sotis glitched or acted differently? Like the way certain options remained locked or how so texts, like his second title, showed only scrambled symbols.
Whatever it ant, it wasn't normal. And while he hadn't faced any major consequences from it yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that soday, it would matter. A lot.
He sighed, dismissing the Codex for now. Answers would co eventually—hopefully before whatever this so-called "fate divergence" decided to rear its head.
The Codex flickered out at his ntal command, its translucent text vanishing into the air. Velren exhaled, dragging a hand through his black hair before shifting into a cross-legged position beneath the sprawling tree.
ditation had beco a part of his daily routine. Back when he was four, Gramps—between bouts of drinking—had decided that it was ti to teach him how to sense and circulate his Ka. The process hadn't been easy at first. Controlling sothing intangible, like a river flowing beneath his skin, had felt foreign. But months of practice had paid off. Now, at the age of six, Velren could manipulate the energy within him with ease, guiding it through his body with each breath.
Gramps had explained that a Ka was more than just a life force. It was the essence of existence itself, the foundation from which all magic and abilities were derived.
Yet, everyone's Ka manifested differently, shaped by their nature and soul. So wielded their Ka like fire—raw and destructive—while others, like healers, shaped it into gentle restorative waves. Velren had even heard of people whose Ka granted them control over shadows or enhanced their senses to inhuman levels.
For Velren, the basics ca naturally: he could circulate and control the flow of Ka with minimal effort. His breathing slowed, syncing with the gentle pulse of energy moving through him. Despite this progress, there was one thing that was still bothering him. The unique aspect of his Ka remained... dormant. No elental affinity, no specialized talent. Just raw, formless energy.
Every living being possesses a Vital Crest. It is the unique manifestation of one's Ka—your individual mark upon the world. So people wield elents like fire or wind, others develop more abstract abilities like enhanced senses or manipulative constructs.
His gaze flicked downward at his resting hands. Why hasn't his own vital crest erged yet? Gramps said it would reveal itself in ti, that patience was key—but with the looming mystery of his "Anomaly" status, Velren couldn't help but wonder if sothing was preventing it. Or worse... if the system's interference was to bla.
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