The boy who once created

"Calm down, Arlo. I think I'm going crazy. Is it all the thinking? Mum warned me!" he muttered, eyes shut tight as if that would restore his sanity.

After a few seconds, he hesitantly cracked one eye open.

It was still there. 

[That's rude]

Arlo's breath hitched. He whipped his head around, expecting to see someone lurking in the shadows, but the eerie glow of the message remained in front of him.

"Oh! Y-Yeah, s-sorry," he stammered, barely clinging to reason.

'Does this have something to do with awakening?'

In this world, some individuals possess supernatural speed, strength, perception, or other remarkable abilities. While most awakened young, a rare few did so later in life.

But never had he heard of this happening.

"What... are you? What's going on?" he asked, forcing his voice to remain steady, trying to convince himself that this was real and not some sleep-deprived delusion.

[Rather than explaining, all necessary information can be transferred directly to your brain.]

"O-Okay..." Arlo replied, though uncertainty gnawed at him.

A strange sensation swept through his body, tingling from head to toe. It was as if something unseen wrapped around his mind, pressing knowledge directly into his thoughts. The moment passed, and suddenly, he understood.

He rubbed his jaw, processing everything.

"I see... So basically, I complete tasks and get rewards that help my growth. The system will assist me throughout." His brows furrowed. "But why me?"

[That information is hidden]

"...I see," he muttered, rolling his shoulders. He was curious, but not enough to pry. He never really cared for the why of things—just whether they worked in his favor.

Still, a grin crept onto his face as several possibilities flashed through his mind. But first...

"So, what can you do?"

[After full integration, system features and abilities will be determined by the user's talents.]

His grin froze.

His stomach dropped.

Arlo blinked several times, processing the words.

"...Wait. By my talents?"

[Correct.]

The excitement drained from his face, replaced with growing dread.

Because Arlo didn't have any good talents.

A bead of sweat trailed down his temple.

"Umm—Does it have to be decided by what I can do? Isn't there an alternative? Like... a random choice?"

[No.]

The answer came without hesitation, crushing any lingering hope he had.

[Should full integration commence?]

Arlo hesitated.

He swallowed hard.

"... Yes."

[Commencing Integration.]

...

[Searching for talent...]

......

[Talent Found: None.]

'I knew it,' Arlo thought, panic setting in. I was so close...!

Just as despair started to creep in—

[Innate talent found]

[Syncing with system.]

His breath hitched.

'Innate talent?'

And then the memory surfaced.

---

11 Years Ago

The wind howled along the cliffs, carrying the sharp, salty tang of the sea. Arlo stood at the edge, gripping the wooden spool of string tightly. Beside him, Grey grinned from ear to ear, his excitement palpable as he held up the massive dragon kite they had spent weeks crafting.

Its green scales shimmered in the sunlight, and the long tail of ribbons fluttered wildly in the wind.

"It's perfect, Arlo!" Grey shouted, eyes alight with joy. "This is gonna be the best kite anyone's ever seen!"

Arlo nodded, though unease churned in his stomach.

The cliffs were dangerous. Everyone in the village said so. The edges were unstable, and the winds were unpredictable.

But Grey had always been fearless. And Arlo had always followed.

That was how it had always been.

The two of them were inseparable. Grey was the reckless adventurer, the one who climbed the tallest trees and swam in the deepest parts of the river. Arlo was the quiet thinker, the maker, the one who brought Grey's wild ideas to life. Whenever Arlo built something new, Grey was the first to test it, the first to cheer him on.

This kite was no different.

Arlo had poured his heart into it—sketching designs late into the night, carving the wooden frame, painting each scale by hand. Grey had watched in awe as it came to life, growing more excited by the day.

"This one's gonna fly higher than anything," he had said. "We have to take it to the cliffs. The wind's perfect there!"

And against his better judgment, Arlo had agreed.

---

The kite soared into the sky effortlessly, caught by a powerful gust.

Grey whooped with joy as it climbed higher and higher, its tail streaming behind it like a comet.

Arlo's chest swelled with pride.

For a moment, everything was perfect.

Then the wind shifted.

A violent gust wrenched the string from Grey's hands.

The kite veered wildly—straight toward the cliff's edge.

Grey lunged for it.

Arlo's heart leapt into his throat as Grey's fingers grazed the string—

And then his foot slipped.

"Grey!" Arlo screamed, reaching out.

But he was too late.

Grey's balance faltered, and he tumbled over the edge.

The kite spiraled after him, vanishing into the abyss.

Arlo's outstretched hand grasped at empty air.

The sound of the waves crashing against the rocks below was deafening.

---

Arlo didn't remember running back to the village.

He didn't remember the frantic search or the way the villagers' faces crumpled when they found Grey's body at the base of the cliffs.

He didn't remember the funeral.

All he remembered was the kite.

It had been shattered, its wooden frame splintered, its paper torn. The ribbons tangled in the rocks, fluttering weakly like a dying bird.

Arlo had stared at it for what felt like hours, numb.

He had made that kite.

He had poured his heart into it.

And now, it had taken Grey away from him.

---

The days that followed blurred together.

He stopped making things.

He couldn't look at his tools. Couldn't stand the half-finished projects gathering dust.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Grey's face—grinning, alive—then gone.

The villagers tried to comfort him. They said it wasn't his fault, that it had been a terrible accident.

But their words rang hollow.

He had built the kite.

He had let Grey take the string.

And he had failed to save him.

---

Years passed.

The weight of that day never left him.

He grew older and taller, but the guilt remained—a constant shadow.

His workshop gathered dust. His hands, once steady, never built again.

And over time, his ambition faded with it.

He became carefree and nonchalant—a man who wanted nothing more than to live a quiet, undisturbed life.

If he even deserved to live.

And on days like this, when the wind howled through the cliffs, Arlo always found himself here.

Standing at the edge.

Staring out at the endless horizon.

---

Arlo snapped back to reality.

Never did he expect this memory to come back now.

His fingers clenched the grass beneath him, grounding himself.

He wasn't just some talentless fool. He had something before—before he threw it away.

And now, the system had found it.

[Welcome to the Alchemy System]