"I… I am useless."
The words slipped out of Ragnar's mouth like a confession he'd been holding in for years. His shoulders shook as tears traced hot lines down his cheeks, dripping onto the exam paper crumpled in his fists. Red ink bled across the page Failed the same verdict he had seen five times this month alone.
Five failures.
Five reminders that no matter how hard he tried, he always seemed to fall short.
"How did I fail again…?" he whispered, voice breaking. "I thought I had it this time. I thought I was ready."
His fingers curled tighter until his knuckles turned bone-white. Anger flared in his chest, sharp and violent, but it had nowhere to go. There was no rival to curse, no examiner to blame. Just himself.
Shame wrapped around him like iron chains, heavy and suffocating.
"How am I supposed to tell her?" Ragnar muttered. "That I failed again…?"
His breath hitched. "F**k… why am I this weak?"
---
To understand Ragnar's despair, one must first understand the world that shaped him.
Long before time learned to move forward, nine godly beings roamed an endless void. They sculpted stars with careless hands and crushed galaxies just as easily, weaving creation and destruction as though both were toys meant for their amusement. Among them existed one who stood apart.
The Black Dragon of Destruction.
Where the others created to balance existence, the Black Dragon devoured for the sake of annihilation itself. His hunger grew without limit, his power tearing cracks through reality, threatening to erase everything that was.
The remaining seven gods could not stop him. Desperation drove them to request help from the only being capable of rivaling such ruin the White Dragon of Creation.
For seven thousand years, the two dragons clashed.
Their battle created worlds and concepts. Time was made. Space was crafted. The void itself bent and twisted beneath their fury.
In the end, there was no victor.
Both dragons fell, their bodies shattered beyond recovery, their blood dissolving into something entirely new.
Mana.
From that divine aftermath, countless worlds bloomed one of them the planet Ragnar now called home. Fearing the Black Dragon's eventual return, the gods chose reincarnation, scattering fragments of their power across future generations.
That was the story passed down through scripture and song… But it was not the whole truth.
---
Back in the Present
"Ragnar, you failed again?!"
The sharp voice yanked him back into reality.
His younger sister stood in the doorway, small hands clenched at her sides. Anger burned in her eyes, but beneath it trembled something far more painful disappointment. But cute in a way
"I…" Ragnar swallowed. "I thought I was ready. I'm sorry, Lilly."
He couldn't bring himself to meet her gaze.
She exhaled slowly, the fire in her expression dimming. Stepping forward, she wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face into his chest.
"Don't worry," she said quietly. "There's still one academy left. It's not the best, but their entrance exams aren't that hard. You'll get in. I know you will."
Her warmth eased the ache in his chest just a little.
"Thanks," Ragnar said, forcing a smile that never reached his eyes. "I'll go for a walk. Clear my head."
Lilly grabbed his sleeve. "Hey—you promised! You said we'd play together when you got back, remember?"
Ragnar chuckled softly and placed a hand on her head, gently ruffling her hair.
"When I get back, we'll play as long as you want. Okay?"
She hesitated, then nodded. "…Okay."
---
Ragnar stepped into the evening streets as the sun dipped low, painting the stone roads in hues of gold and orange.
The city was alive.
Merchants shouted from wooden stalls, advertising skewered meat glazed in sizzling oils, warm bread dusted with salt, and spiced fruit wrapped in paper. The air was thick with competing smells roasted meat, sweat, metal, and smoke from distant forges.
Carriages rumbled past, pulled not only by horses but by slaves bound in chains, muscles straining as masters barked orders from cushioned seats. Some slaves carried heavy crates stamped with noble crests luxury fabrics, enchanted tools, rare ingredients meant for the upper districts.
Ragnar averted his eyes.
'That's not my problem' he told himself. 'This kingdom is full of slaves.'
Laughter spilled from a nearby tavern as adventurers clinked mugs, boasting loudly about monsters they'd slain or claimed to have slain. Street performers played cracked instruments for spare coins while children weaved through crowds, stealing what they could.
Life moved on, indifferent to his misery.
---
"Hey, kid."
Ragnar stopped.
From the shadow of an alley stepped an old man tall, thin, draped in worn but expensive robes. His eyes gleamed unnaturally, sharp and calculating.
"What's with your mana levels?" the man asked. "The energy flowing from you… it's immense."
Ragnar frowned. "Mana levels? What are you talking about? And who are you?"
'He doesn't even know, the man realized. Overflowing mana… so dense it leaks naturally. No control at all.' The old man thought to himself
"Kid," the old man said suddenly, excitement creeping into his voice, "how about I train you?"
Ragnar scoffed and turned away. "Train me? What could an old man like you possibly teach—"
The world collapsed.
With a single clap, reality folded in on itself. Blood-red mana flooded the air as a colossal castle erupted around them spires clawing at the sky, walls slick with pulsing energy. At its highest tower sat the old man, legs crossed, smiling down at him.
Mana Domain
Ragnar's breath caught. "What… the hell… did you just do?"
The man's smile widened. "Just a taste. I can teach you how to wield power like this real power. If you're willing."
Ragnar stared, heart pounding not just with fear, but with something dangerously close to excitement.
'If I refuse… he might kill me' Ragnar thought.
The idea sent a shiver down his spine. And yet… it thrilled him.
He stepped forward and grasped the man's hand.
"Please," Ragnar said, voice steady despite the storm inside him. "Teach me."
For the first time in years, hope burned in his chest.
Maybe just maybe this world hadn't abandoned him after all.