Chapter 5: Seeds of Power, Roots of Blood
The sun had barely risen over Moonveil when Ray stood at the edge of the training field, breath steady, wooden dagger in hand.
"Again," his father's voice rumbled.
Ray exhaled, stepped forward, and slashed through the air.
Not strong enough. Not yet.
Grant watched quietly, his arms crossed over a thick tunic, eyes sharp despite his kind face. "You're improving. But your balance wavers. Remember your footing. Strength flows from the ground, not just your arms."
Ray nodded, adjusting his stance.
Five years old, and already the whispers had started.
"That boy's not normal."
"He listens too much. Learns too fast."
"That's Asha's blood for you."
They weren't wrong.
---
Grandmother Asha didn't speak often, but when she did, her words carved into your bones.
"You must never mistake kindness for weakness," she told Ray one night as they sat under the moonlight. "The world you were born into? It does not forgive weakness. Nor does it reward hesitation."
She traced a map in the dirt—five continents, two of which were already under siege by monstrous forces from other realms.
"Mana beasts come from the Emerald Spine. Demons through the lower-tier gates. And one day…" She looked toward the mountains. "Even the sky might fall."
Ray's breath hitched. "Will we fight them?"
Asha smiled, slow and grim. "If we live long enough, yes."
---
Over the years, Ray trained with wood, stone, and instinct. He learned to read by moonlight and recite bestiary entries from memory. He could name over thirty species of mana beasts by their core color, size, and mutation tier.
F-Rank to SSS-Rank.
Each rank had levels from 1 to 9. A Rank-1 beast was manageable. A Rank-9? Nearly a disaster. Beasts evolved through mutation or mana saturation, and their cores were used for crafting, alchemy, or absorption.
Humans, too, had their own scale:
F → E → D → C → B → A → S → SS → SSS,
followed by Transcendents, Mythic Lords, and Divine-class beings—rumored to be the direct hands of gods.
Most villagers barely reached E-Rank.
Ray wasn't most villagers.
---
By the time he was seven, Ray could sense mana threads in the air—faint, flickering things like fireflies.
"Your soul is adapting," whispered a long-silent voice one night—Seventeen—still dormant, still sleeping, but slightly more present.
Ray didn't respond out loud. He didn't need to.
The System was watching. Waiting for the day he turned twelve, the moment of Awakening.
Until then, all Ray could do was prepare.
---
When Ray turned eight, an emissary from another village arrived. A merchant caravan led by a guild-ranked warrior and two B-Rank guards. Their wagons were loaded with salt, silk, and arcane stones.
And danger.
Among the items was a beast caged in mana chains—a Flamefang Cub, small and snarling, with ember eyes and smoke curling from its teeth. An F-Rank fire beast… mutated, unstable.
Ray stood too close.
It lunged.
He didn't flinch.
Its snarl halted midway.
The cub stared at him.
Then backed away.
"…That's not normal," muttered one of the guards.
---
Later that night, Asha placed a hand on Ray's shoulder.
"You didn't panic," she said.
"I've seen worse," he replied before he could stop himself.
Asha narrowed her eyes. "Seen?"
Ray swallowed.
But she didn't press further.
Instead, she smiled. "Good. Then you'll survive your Awakening."
---
By age ten, Ray's body had grown leaner, sharper. His training with Grant had evolved into sparring. Mayla was now twelve, awakened with a Wind Dancer class—light and fast, perfect for a future scout or assassin.
Ray watched her with envy and pride.
Soon, it would be his turn.
But unlike Mayla, unlike the others in the village, Ray wouldn't just awaken a class.
He would awaken Seventeen.
A System older than the stars. A companion. A weapon. A god's mistake—or miracle.
And the world would never be the same.
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