Zamel groggily lifted his eyes open, staring up at a familiar ceiling.
He tried to move, but his body refused to respond. There was no pain, yet he felt completely drained—like an oasis left barren under the scorching sun.
With a sigh, he gave up. Succumbing himself to his situation, he searched his mind for any memories of what had happened. Nothing came. No, it felt more like his mind refused to do anything as it was too tired as well.
Sighing again at his predicament, he reasoned that he had woken up way too early for his body to completely recover. Resigning himself to rest, he closed his eyes again, letting himself fall to the loving arms of slumber.
A long time passed before he woke up again. This time, he felt his body had recovered enough strength to move, he pushed himself up from his bed, sitting while leaning against his pillow, and took in his surroundings. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm glow across his dimly lit room.
"Is it morning?" He mumbled to himself, as he looked around his room once more—only to notice a figure, seated in a chair beside his bed.
Likely noticing a gaze boring a hole in his body, the figure opened his eyes, meeting Zamel's stare.
They silently stared at each other—Zamel, questioning himself why there's someone at his room watching him sleep, while the other calmly leaning back in his chair, studying the boy in return.Finally, Zamel spoke, breaking the uncomfortable silence they put themselves into.
"Uh… hi?" he said, his voice tinged with both confusion and nervousness.
"How are you feeling?" the figure questioned, his voice laced with kindness.
"Uh… I'm alright, Lord Alaric. Thank you for asking," Zamel replied, still nervous.
"There's no need to call me 'Lord Alaric.' Just 'Uncle' is enough," he said with a smile, trying to ease his nephew's uncertainty.
"O-Okay, Uncle," Zamel stammered, unsure of how to properly respond to his uncle's words.
"Well, with that out of the way, could you indulge my curiosity? Can you recall anything about your awakening?" he asked, unfazed by his nephew's reaction.
"Well, uh…" Zamel hesitated as he searched his mind for answers. "I can vaguely remember that we went to the room where the patriarch resides, and, uh… he spoke briefly to us while he did something that, uh…" He trailed off, trying his best to recall any details about what happened during his awakening.
Alaric patiently waited as he let his nephew take the time to process his memories, he was still smiling but his eyes hid his seriousness,
He squeezed out his mind trying to recall every detail as he continued speaking.
"That caused the ground to shake, as a hidden door behind the bookshelves opened up. We went inside and there was a room… With an awakening orb. The Patriarch pushed me to begin my awakening, so I did. From that point on my core started forming. But it looked weird after it was finished and it was painful and uh… That's it, I think that's all of it, I couldn't remember anything. I must have lost consciousness after that." He finished, slightly unsure if what he recalled was right.
Alaric smiled brightly even more upon hearing his words. "Alright, that's better. It's good you remembered something—most importantly, about your core. But listen carefully, Young Zamel. Do not speak to anyone about the details of your awakening that happened here. This is of utmost secrecy—no one must know. Understood?" He said with a face that refuses no as an answer.
"Y-Yes, Lord Alaric! I-I mean… uncle." Zamel stammered, his nervousness momentarily making him forget Alaric's earlier instruction to address him casually.
Speaking of his core, it was only now that it sinked to him about the unique(grotesque) appearance of the thing inside his heart.
"Um…. May I ask a question?" he hesitatingly asked. "Why does my core look like a black beating turd, instead of looking like the normal ones? He finished as he swallowed his reluctance.
"Hmm… About that," he began, his tone thoughtful. "There are two primary reasons why some cores undergo transformation—becoming something different, yet undeniably unique.
The first reason lies in the nature of awakening itself. During the formation of one's core, there's a rare chance that the individual may also acquire something else—a special ability we call a 'gift.' These gifts can either be a blessing or a curse, depending on their nature.
For example, some awaken with a gift that greatly expands their mana capacity. This is an incredible advantage for Mages or any Path of Power that relies on magic for combat and creation. However, not all are so fortunate. Some gifts hinder growth, slowing down or even completely halting a person's progress. In the worst cases, a gift can be outright lethal, affecting not only the individual's abilities but also their very life."
The true reason for getting "gifts" are still unknown even in this age, although some researchers and scholars speculate that gaining one was due to a variety of factors. Such as: their bloodline and something was done or happened before or during their awakening while the most famous guess was that it all comes down to luck.
The second reason is the awakening of an attribute. It's not uncommon for someone who already possesses an attribute to gain a second one, or for those without one to awaken their first. Typically, the attribute a person gains aligns with those found in their family. However, in rare cases, individuals awaken an entirely different attribute, unrelated to their lineage.
That said, no one has ever awakened the same attribute twice. For example, someone born with a fire attribute has never gained a second fire attribute upon forming their core—it's simply impossible and defies all logic. If a second attribute does appear, it's actually far more likely to be the opposite of their original one rather than a duplicate."
Tell me, Young Zamel. Did you luckily gain an attribute? Alaric asked Zamel with interest.
"No, not that I remember getting one after seeing a white tablet that has details of my status." Zamel said, unsure if he remembers it right.
"Then, we can say that you have a "gift." Congratulations, Young Zamel. I hope what you got is truly advantageous for your journey." Alaric said with his lingering smile still plastered to his face.
"I have a last question, why do all of the Path of Powers I have to choose from all have different colours? Why is there one Gold Tablet, while the remaining four are either Bronze and Silver?" Zamel asks eager to know more.
"That's a simple one, the reason why they have different colours signifies their compatibility along with your desire.
Gold means they align with what you truly wish to become and have the highest compatibility with you, Silver represents a Path of Power which is closely the same with what you want or something you're compatible but hadn't considered to have, offering about fifty percent compatibility with you. Lastly, Bronze indicates familiarity but no compatibility at all.
Choosing one is like dropping a stone on your own foot—or, to put it simply, you'd be an idiot to pick that."
"Then why are we given a choice, when surely all of us will choose what we truly want? He asks, stupefied by the logic of what he heard.
"No one really knows. The Observer works in ways we mortals will never comprehend in our entire lives—unless we reach a higher level and ascend to godhood. Plus, it's not bad to have a choice."
Alaric answered with endless patience.
"Is that all your questions Young Zamel?" he asked, expecting him to have another.
"No, that's all of it." Zamel said, satisfied at the answers of the questions gnawing at his mind.
"Good." Alaric nodded, satisfied with his response. Then, with a hint of curiosity, he continued, "Well, I apologize if I'm bothering you, but… I like to ask a question as well, what Path of Power did you choose?""Oh, It's alright, uncle. I chose Beastmaster for my Path of Power." He answered with pride, his nervousness at his uncle fading as he spoke, a sense of accomplishment filling his voice.
"Hmmm, that's good. Your enthusiasm about your class reminds me of my mother." He chuckled before continuing. "She was just as excited as you when she first gained the ability to form a contract with a beast. Imagine her smile when she was able to succeed, she couldn't stop gloating about it to us when we were still living in this house back in the day." He said as his eyes dimmed lightly when he remembered his mother.
Zamel smiled sadly at the mention of his grandmother. He could easily imagine her doing something like that, knowing how she behaved despite her age.
"I apologize about that, Young Zamel. Rest for now, even though I know I can help, but letting your body rest on its own will be the best course of action for your recovery." Alaric said as he stood up. "I must go now, I'll report your class to the Patriarch and your suppose "gift" you've obtained, expect his call after you wake up, he will likely discuss his plans for you. So rest well for now."
With finality, he reached for the door. "Goodbye for now Young Zamel, May we meet again soon." He said before stepping out of the room.
Zamel understood what that meant—it would be a long time before he saw Alaric again due to how busy he was with his work, he couldn't get any time to visit this estate. Also, with the fact that he had awakened his Path of Power, even if he was able to visit, it is unlikely that Zamel will still be here. He knew he would soon be sent to the Holy Academy in the capital.
It had always been his dream to go there. He had heard countless stories from his grandmother and aunt during the day they were both here at the estate.
The Holy Academy was a haven for people his age—a place where young warriors trained under the guidance and protection of the Heavenly Church itself. There, battle-hardened veterans, either retired or devoted to teaching the next generation, personally instructed students, preparing them to defend their country from countless threats.
Beyond training, the Academy boasted top-tier facilities designed to enhance growth, all readily accessible to its students. It even housed three dungeons, strictly controlled and guarded by the Church's warriors. Students could venture into them to gain experience and grow stronger—though at a cost. Access required payment using the Academy's approved currency, ensuring that only the truly dedicated could reap the benefits.
But more than anything, what Zamel longed for most was the chance to form real connections—to build friendships with others his age. His grandmother and aunt had assured him that at the Academy, he would find companions to fight alongside, study with, and assist one another when the time came.
And maybe, just maybe, he would even find love. They had teased him endlessly about it, claiming the Academy was filled with beautiful girls, like a garden tended by angels themselves. And just when his excitement peaked, they had added with a mischievous grin that he could always choose a handsome boy instead—if that was his preference.
Unfortunately, he also remembered how insulted he had been at their remark. Outraged at their audacity to question his manliness, he had lunged at them in an attempt to beat their asses for revenge—only to fail miserably.
With that thought lingering in his mind, he suppressed the growing excitement about his future. Taking a deep breath, he let himself relax.
It had been his dream for so long—to leave this suffocating place.
With that out of his mind. He suppressed the growing excitement within him as he thought about his future, he let out a deep breath. It had been his dream for so long—to leave this suffocating place.
Closing his eyes, he allowed sleep to take him, knowing that tomorrow would mark the beginning of his beautiful academic life, filled with hope and bliss.
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"I will be sending you to a neighbouring territory of an Archduke I trust." The Patriarch said in his unchanging, cold voice.
"Uh…. W-what now?" Zamel, stupefied by what he had heard, staggeringly replied that he forgot to regard the Patriarch with respect.
The Patriarch, ignoring both his question and his lack of respect, continued speaking.
"From there, you'll work and train for your growth, your time there will be beneficial for you due to the class you have chosen, do not waste it."
Struck by his grandfather's words, Zamel could only let imaginary tears fall from his eyes as he cursed the entire world for his misfortune.
"GODDAMNIT" He whispered in his mind as anguish ravaged his fragile, little, broken heart.