The streets were quieter than usual as Rowen walked ho.
Everyone knew what tomorrow was.
Rowen pushed the door open and stepped inside the shop. The wooden sign on the door still said CLOSE. He flips the board to OPEN.
He dropped his bag behind the counter and sat on the stool. Outside, the street was quiet. Afternoon light stread through the windows. He leaned forward, watching the road for a while—just in case soone wandered in.
No one ca.
By the ti the clock hit 8:00 PM, he was still alone. With a sigh, he stood up and flipped the sign to CLOSED.
He stretched his arms and headed up the stairs to the small apartnt above the shop. The stairs creaked, but he was used to it.
In the kitchen, he grabbed what was left of last night's stew and heated it over the small stove. It was mostly potatoes and bits of dried at, but it was enough.
He ate in silence, sitting by the window. In the distance, the upper-town lanterns were already glowing—a different world, one he wasn't part of. Not yet.
He didn't care about crystals or titles.
He just didn't want to be left behind.
After cleaning up, he threw himself onto the cot and stared at the ceiling. His mind kept racing.
What if I don't awaken? What then?
No answers ca.
Eventually, he drifted off to sleep.
Next morning.
The sound of birds woke him.
Rowen blinked against the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. For a second, he forgot what day it was.
Then he rembered.
Today was the test.
He sat up slowly, rubbing his face. His mouth was dry, and his stomach twisted with a nervous tightness. Not fear exactly—just too many thoughts.
He washed up quickly, then dressed in his best clean clothes. A plain dark shirt, patched at the shoulder, and worn boots he'd polished the night before. Not perfect, but decent enough.
Downstairs, he grabbed a piece of flatbread and so water. The shop stayed closed—he'd be gone most of the day anyway.
He glanced at the shelf where a small wooden box sat—one of the last things his grandfather had made. Roughly carved, stained dark with age, and sealed shut with a faded leather strap.
Rowen stepped closer.
He could still rember the old man's voice, quiet but firm, that day before his death.
"After the Awakening. After the test. Not before. No matter what happens, Rowen—wait until then. You'll understand when it's ti."
He didn't know what was inside.
He never shook it. Never dared to open it.
Just waited, like he was told.
Rowen gave a small nod and stepped out into the street, locking the door behind him.
The town felt different this morning. Quieter. A little tenser. Other students were already heading down the main road toward the school grounds, most walking in small groups. Rowen fell in step behind them, alone.
The school was abuzz with tension.
Inside the classroom, rows of desks were neatly arranged. Students sat quietly, each with a pen and a thin booklet in front of them—the Written Test.
It's standard: the basic theory of mana, crystal resonance, known affinities, and the ranks of the power system. Questions Rowen has studied a dozen tis. Still, his fingers tremble slightly as he picks up his pen.
He glances at the clock rune hovering above the instructors.
One hour.
He forces himself to focus.
When the test ends, the booklets are collected without a word. A teacher steps forward.
"Everyone, head to the school grounds. Line up for potential evaluation!"
Rowen stood up and followed the others. Out in the field, the Awakening Device pulsed with faint blue light—taller than a man, made of black stone with silver veins, softly humming with stored mana.
He's waited his whole life for this mont.
And now it's here.
Before the evaluation began, a federal officer addressed the crowd.
"This device," he said, gesturing to the structure, "was found deep inside a dungeon and is now linked directly to the Main System—a mana-based digital network. It doesn't just asure potential. It also awakens your path, syncing your signature with the system."
He paused, letting the words sink in.
"Once awakened, you'll be able to access the Main System from authorized terminals to browse techniques, request training modules, or track your growth. Your path begins here."
He held a crystal slate, scanning nas.
"This is it," Calen said quietly beside Rowen. He's fidgeting, adjusting the straps on his jacket. "We touch that thing, and it decides who we are?"
Rowen just nods, staring at the monolith.
Behind them, students whispered. So try to act confident. Others look sick.
The examiner raised his voice.
"When your na is called, step forward. Place your hand on the stone. Don't speak. Don't rush. The stone will respond if your soul is aligned with a path."
He glances around.
"If not… you may step aside. No sha in that."
A few snort. So flinch.
Then the nas began.
One by one, students were called.
A girl steps up confident, hair braided tight. She places her hand on the awakening device.
It flashed bright red.
"Path detected: Fire Mage. Potential: Adept Tier."
Cheers erupt from her side. She smirked, walking off without looking back.
Next, a boy stepped forward. The stone glowed faintly.
"Path detected: Knight. Potential: Low Trainee Tier."
It continues like this.
So get strong paths. So were weak. So, nothing at all.
The stone stayed dim, and they walked away in silence.
"Calen Ashville," the examiner called.
Calen swallowed hard. He gave Rowen a crooked smile. "Wish luck."
He stepped forward, palms sweating. Touches the stone.
For a long second, nothing.
Then a soft green light.
"Path detected: Tar. Potential: Moderate Trainee Tier."
Calen stares at the glow. Then he grins wide and jogs back.
"A Tar, Rowen! Did you see that? I knew it; I felt sothing."
Rowen tried to smile. Nods.
But inside, sothing tightens.
His na was next.
The teacher walked slowly between the rows of desks, boots echoing softly on the old stone floor.
"I know the Awakening is just five days away," he said, tapping his rune tablet.
Light flickered, and a faint projection shimred above it a branching diagram glowing in soft blue hues.
"So let's talk about sothing that actually matters: the world's system of power."
The students leaned in.
Rowen looked up from his worn desk, his fingers pausing on the frayed edge of his tablet.
"There are many known paths," the teacher began. "So are more common, others… rare, or even forgotten in so regions."
He pointed to the first glowing symbol.
"Mage," he said. "Magician They shape the world through Mana. Elental casters, alchemists, and formation scribes all fall under this branch."
A second symbol flared beside it.
"Knight," he continued. "The tempered warriors who internalize mana, strengthening their bodies and weapons. Their power lies in technique, endurance, and close combat."
A third.
"Tar." The projection shifted into the shape of a beast's silhouette. "They form contracts with magical creatures, so through crystals, others through shared soul bonds. Dangerous and often misunderstood."
The next symbol was less defined.
"Artisan." A surprised murmur passed through the class. "Yes, artisans. Blacksmiths who forge mana-infused weapons. Weavers of enchanted cloth. Builders of runed machines. Not all paths lead to the battlefield."
The teacher smiled slightly and tapped again.
"Healers, priests, spiritualists, summoners." Each na lit briefly in the air before fading.
"And many others," he added. "So are known to the federations; others are unknown. The world is wide—don't think these walls define all that's possible. After all, the Awakening only reveals what your soul is tuned to. Sotis, it reveals sothing... unexpected."
The lights faded. A silence hung in the room, heavier than before.
Rowen stared at the desk, his thoughts drifting again.
The lights from the rune tablet dimd completely, and the room seed colder for a mont.
The teacher's tone shifted, lower now—more grounded.
"Of course," he said, folding his arms, "not everyone awakens."
A hush settled over the students.
"When the device fails to respond... when no path lights up... the governnt calls them Pathless..."
Rowen's hand tensed slightly on the edge of his desk.
"They can still live normal lives as farrs, traders, and workers, and yes, so even make nas for themselves. But without a path, they'll never cultivate, never advance."
He looked around the room, eyes lingering a little too long on Rowen.
"They'll always be... left behind."
Then, with a clap of his hands, the teacher forced a smile. "But we won't worry about that just yet, will we?
He waved his hand over the rune-etched panel on the wall, and glowing script began appearing line by line as he spoke, responding to the motion of his fingers.
"There are ten ranks shared across all recognized paths."
he said. "Each rank has ten sub-levels, and advancent requires a combination of magical crystal absorption, combat experience, and ntal cultivation.
He began listing them:
"Apprentice, Trainee, Adept, Expert, Master, Grandmaster, Legend, Sage, False God, and finally… Demi-God.
A flicker of awe rippled through the students
"These titles are more than nas. They define what you can do—the power you can wield and the places you can go.
The rune tablet powered down with a soft chi, and the teacher dismissed the class. Students began filing out, so buzzing with excitent, others quiet and pensive.
Calen lingered behind, nudging Rowen lightly with his elbow. "You spaced out again," he said with a grin
Rowen blinked. "Did I?
Calen slung his schoolbag over his shoulder, then leaned in a bit, voice low. "So… what do you want it to be? Your path, I an."
Rowen hesitated. "I don't know."
"Co on," Calen said, eyes glinting with curiosity. "Everyone's got sothing. You can tell . Knight? Mage? Or do you secretly want to ride wyverns into battle as a Tar?"
Rowen gave a faint smile. "I just… hope it's sothing. Anything.
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