The morning bell rang through the Eastern Quarter Public School, its clear tone cutting through the crisp autumn air. Students hurried across the courtyard, their voices creating a tapestry of sound that rose and fell like waves. For most, this was routine—another day of lessons, friendships, and the steady march toward their futures.
For Ren, standing just inside the gates with his enrollment slip clutched tightly in one hand, it was the beginning of everything.
"New boy! You there, new boy!" The dormitory master, a broad-shouldered man with a perpetually furrowed brow, beckoned impatiently. "Classes start in an hour. Follow me if you want to know where you're going."
Ren hurried after him, trying to take in everything at once. The school was modest compared to the glimpses he'd caught of Grandia Academy's soaring spires, but to a child who had known only alleys and abandoned nooks, it seemed vast and imposing. Three interconnected buildings surrounded a central courtyard where older students practiced simple cantrips under a teacher's watchful eye. Blue sparks and small floating lights danced between their fingers—basic magic that even those without awakened Abilities could learn with enough practice.
The dormitory master led Ren through the dormitory, showing him where the bathrooms were, where dirty linens went. Then he took Ren to the kitchens on the ground floor.
"Kitchen duty, then. Report to Mistress Fenna after classes. She'll show you what needs doing." The man turned to leave, then paused. "And boy—"
"Yes, sir?"
"Wash up before you present yourself to your teachers. First impressions matter here."
With that, he was gone, leaving Ren alone. Ren returned to his assigned bed where he had slept the previous night, running his hand over the clean, if worn, blanket. A real bed. A roof that wouldn't leak. Regular meals. And most importantly, a chance to learn, to prepare for the Awakening Ceremony, to take his first real step toward his dream.
He allowed himself a small smile before heading to the washing facilities the dormitory master had pointed out.
Ten minutes later, face scrubbed and hair as neat as he could make it, Ren stood outside his assigned classroom. Through the door, he could hear a woman's voice explaining something about elemental affinities. Taking a deep breath, he knocked.
The voice stopped. "Enter."
Ren pushed open the door to find twenty pairs of eyes turning to stare at him. The students, ranging from perhaps nine to twelve years of age, sat at simple wooden desks arranged in rows. At the front stood a thin, severe-looking woman with iron-gray hair pulled back so tightly it seemed to stretch her skin.
"You must be the new student," she said, her tone making it clear that his interruption was unwelcome. "Ren, is it? Just Ren?"
"Yes, ma'am," he replied, trying not to fidget under her scrutiny.
"Very well. Take the empty seat in the back row. We're discussing basic elemental theory. Try to keep up."
Ren made his way to the indicated seat, acutely aware of the whispers and stares following him. His clothes, though clean, were visibly patched and too large. His shoes were stuffed with rags to fit. Everything about him screamed "street child," and the other students—mostly from working-class families who had scraped together enough to send their children to school—noticed immediately.
"Smells like the gutter," a boy whispered loudly enough for Ren to hear as he passed.
"Probably can't even read," another added with a snicker.
Ren kept his eyes forward, his expression neutral. He'd endured worse on the streets. These were just words, and words couldn't take away the opportunity he'd been given.
The teacher—Mistress Valen, he soon learned—continued her lesson on how different elements responded to mana manipulation. Much of it went over Ren's head, but he listened intently, trying to absorb every word. When she wrote symbols on the board, he copied them carefully onto the scrap of paper another student reluctantly shared, though he didn't yet understand their meaning.
By midday, Ren's head was swimming with new information. He'd attended three different classes—elemental theory, basic arithmetic, and Lumerian history—and understood perhaps a quarter of what had been taught. The gap between his non-existent education and what was expected of students his age seemed insurmountable.
In the dining hall, he received a bowl of simple stew and a chunk of bread—more food at once than he sometimes saw in an entire day on the streets. He found an empty spot at the end of a table and ate slowly, savoring each bite while trying to ignore the continued stares and whispers.
"Hey, street rat," called a voice. Ren looked up to see a stocky boy approaching, flanked by two others. All three wore the slightly better quality clothes of merchant-class children. "That's our spot."
Ren glanced around. The dining hall was half-empty, with plenty of available seats.
"I'm sorry," he said anyway, preparing to move. Conflict wouldn't help him here.
"Not so fast," the boy said, placing a hand on Ren's shoulder to keep him seated. "First, you need to pay the tax."
"Tax?"
"Yeah. New students pay a tax." The boy's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Half your bread should cover it."
Ren hesitated. He was still hungry, and the bread was particularly good compared to the stale crusts he sometimes scavenged. But making enemies on his first day seemed unwise.
"Here," he said, breaking off half his bread and offering it. "I wasn't very hungry anyway."
The boy snatched it with a smirk. "Smart choice, gutter rat. Maybe you'll learn something here after all."
As they walked away, laughing, Ren returned to his stew. The encounter hadn't surprised him. Hierarchies existed everywhere, from the streets to the school. He'd navigate this one as he had others—carefully, patiently, looking for opportunities rather than trouble.
The afternoon brought more classes, including one that caught Ren's full attention: basic mana sensing. The teacher, a middle-aged man with kind eyes and a soft voice, explained how all living things contained mana, the magical energy that powered everything from simple cantrips to the most powerful Abilities of SSS-class Talented.
"Even those who never Awaken an Ability can learn to sense mana," he explained, "though your sensitivity will be limited without an Awakening. Today, we'll practice a simple exercise to begin developing this sense."
He instructed the students to close their eyes and focus on a small mana crystal he placed on each desk. "Feel the energy. Don't try to grasp it or control it—just become aware of its presence."
Ren closed his eyes and concentrated on the crystal before him. At first, he felt nothing. Then, gradually, he became aware of a subtle warmth, a faint hum that seemed to exist just at the edge of his perception. Was this mana? Or was he imagining it because he wanted so badly to succeed?
"Very good, Talia," the teacher said to a girl in the front row. "You're showing natural sensitivity. And you as well, Dorn."
Ren redoubled his efforts, focusing so intently that his forehead beaded with sweat. There—a definite sensation, like a whisper against his consciousness. He reached for it mentally, trying to hold onto the feeling.
"Don't force it," came the teacher's voice, suddenly close. He had approached Ren's desk without him noticing. "Mana responds better to gentle awareness than grasping."
Ren nodded and relaxed his concentration slightly. To his surprise, the sensation became clearer—still faint, but undeniably present.
"I can feel something," he said, opening his eyes to look up at the teacher. "Like a... a warmth? A vibration?"
The teacher—Master Finch, according to the other students—smiled. "Good. That's a start. With practice, you'll learn to distinguish different types of mana and eventually, perhaps, to channel small amounts through a focus like a wand or staff."
For the first time that day, Ren felt a spark of genuine hope. If he could sense mana, even weakly, then perhaps he had the potential to Awaken an Ability someday. It wasn't much, but it was something concrete to build upon.
The final bell rang too soon, signaling the end of classes. As the other students gathered their things, chattering about plans for the evening, Ren remembered his assigned kitchen duty. He made his way to the dining hall, where he was directed to a large, steam-filled kitchen at the back.
Mistress Fenna, the head cook, was a round woman with strong arms and a no-nonsense demeanor. She put Ren to work immediately, washing an endless stream of pots and dishes from the midday meal. The water was hot, the soap harsh on his hands, and the work monotonous. But compared to scavenging in garbage heaps or cleaning stables, it was almost pleasant.
As he worked, Ren overheard the kitchen staff discussing the day's events, including a mention of a new teacher who had arrived recently.
"Mistress Elara, they call her," said a young kitchen maid as she dried the dishes Ren washed. "Teaches remedial classes for those who need extra help. They say she could have taught at better schools but chose to come here."
"Waste of talent, if you ask me," replied an older cook. "These children will mostly end up in trades or minor positions. What use is advanced education to them?"
"Not all of them," the maid argued. "Some might Awaken significant Abilities. And even those who don't deserve a chance to learn."
Ren listened carefully, filing away the information. Remedial classes might be exactly what he needed to catch up.
By the time he finished his duties, the evening bell had rung. Exhausted but determined, Ren made his way back to the dormitory. Most of the other boys were already there, some studying, others playing quiet games or talking in small groups. None invited Ren to join them, and he was too tired to make the effort himself.
Instead, he collapsed onto his bunk, his mind racing despite his physical exhaustion. So much to learn, so much to catch up on. The gap between himself and his classmates seemed vast, and he had no idea how to bridge it.
"First day's always the worst," came a quiet voice.
Ren turned to see a thin boy with spectacles sitting on the neighboring bunk. He hadn't noticed him before.
"Does it get easier?" Ren asked.
The boy—Tomas, he introduced himself—shrugged. "Depends. You from the streets?"
Ren nodded, seeing no point in denying the obvious.
"Thought so. Had a cousin who came here from similar circumstances. He struggled at first but found his way." Tomas pushed his spectacles up his nose. "Can you read at all?"
"A little," Ren admitted. "I taught myself some letters from signs and such."
"That's something, at least." Tomas reached into his trunk and pulled out a thin book. "Here. It's a primer for younger children. Might help you catch up faster."
Ren stared at the offered book in surprise. "Why would you help me?"
Tomas shrugged again. "My cousin. Like I said. Besides, Bran and his friends—the ones who took your bread—they've been bothering me too. Anyone they target can't be all bad."
Ren accepted the book with careful hands, as if it might crumble at his touch. "Thank you. I'll return it as soon as I can."
"Keep it. I've got others." Tomas turned away, ending the conversation as abruptly as he'd begun it.
Ren opened the book, running his fingers over the simple words and colorful illustrations. A gift. A tool. A chance to learn. He fell asleep that night with the book beside his pillow, dreaming of letters that danced and formed words that opened doors.
The next few weeks fell into a grueling but purposeful routine. Ren woke before dawn, studied by early morning light, attended classes where he understood progressively more each day, performed his kitchen duties, and then studied again until his eyes refused to stay open. He practiced his reading with Tomas's primer, sounding out words until they became familiar, then moving on to more complex texts borrowed from the school's modest library.
The bullying continued—Bran and his friends seemed to have decided that Ren was an ideal target—but Ren weathered it with the same quiet resilience that had kept him alive on the streets. When they stole his food, he worked extra hours in the kitchen to earn more. When they hid his few possessions, he found them without complaint. When they tripped him in the courtyard or mocked his patched clothes, he simply picked himself up and continued on his way.
"Why don't you fight back?" Tomas asked one day after Bran had "accidentally" spilled ink all over Ren's carefully completed arithmetic assignment.
Ren, calmly rewriting his work, considered the question. "Fighting wouldn't help me learn. It wouldn't get me closer to the Awakening Ceremony. It would just waste energy I need for more important things."
Tomas looked at him strangely. "You're different, you know that?"
Ren smiled slightly. "I've heard that before."
Despite his progress with reading and arithmetic, Ren continued to struggle with more advanced concepts, particularly in magical theory. The terminology was complex, the concepts abstract, and his lack of foundational knowledge made each lesson a challenge. He found himself falling further behind, despite his best efforts.
It was during his fourth week at the school that Ren first encountered Mistress Elara. He had stayed late in the classroom, trying to make sense of the day's lesson on mana circulation patterns, when a soft voice interrupted his concentration.
"You seem to be having some difficulty."
Ren looked up to see a woman standing in the doorway. She appeared to be in her forties, with warm brown eyes and chestnut hair streaked with silver. Unlike Mistress Valen's severe appearance or Master Finch's scholarly demeanor, she had a gentle presence that immediately put Ren at ease.
"Yes, ma'am," he admitted. "I'm trying to understand how mana flows through different elements, but the diagrams don't make much sense to me."
She approached his desk, glancing at his notes and the textbook open before him. "Ah, I see the problem. You're missing some fundamental concepts that would make this clearer." She pulled up a chair beside him. "I'm Mistress Elara. I teach the remedial classes."
"I'm Ren," he replied, then added hesitantly, "I've heard about your classes. Do you think... could I join them?"
"That depends," she said, studying him with thoughtful eyes. "Why are you here, Ren? At this school?"
The question caught him off guard. He had expected an assessment of his academic abilities, not his motivations. But something in her gaze encouraged honesty.
"I want to prepare for the Awakening Ceremony," he said. "I want to develop an Ability that will let me protect people, like the Talented in the Grandia Army."
"A noble goal," she nodded. "But a difficult path, especially starting from where you are. It would be easier to learn a trade, find steady work. Why choose the harder road?"
Ren thought about the heroes he'd seen returning from their mission, about the children they'd protected, about his own years of vulnerability on the streets. "Because some roads are worth the difficulty," he said simply.
Mistress Elara's expression softened. "Well answered." She stood up. "My remedial class meets after regular lessons, three days a week. We start with the basics and build from there. If you're willing to put in the extra time, I'd be happy to have you join us."
"Thank you, Mistress Elara," Ren said, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders. "I'll be there."
True to her word, Mistress Elara's remedial classes began with fundamental concepts, explaining them in clear, accessible terms that Ren could grasp. She used practical demonstrations rather than abstract theory, showing how mana interacted with different materials, how it could be sensed and, in small ways, directed even without an awakened Ability.
More importantly, she treated Ren and the other remedial students—mostly younger children who struggled with traditional teaching methods—with patience and respect. There was no mockery for wrong answers, no impatience with repeated questions. Under her guidance, Ren began to make real progress, not just memorizing information but truly understanding it.
One evening, about two months into his time at the school, Ren stayed after the remedial class to help clean up the materials they had used for a demonstration on mana conductivity.
"You're making remarkable progress, Ren," Mistress Elara commented as they worked. "Your understanding of mana theory has improved tremendously."
"It's easier to understand when you explain it," Ren said. "The way you show things, not just tell about them."
She smiled. "Different minds learn in different ways. The traditional approach works well for many students, but not all." She paused, considering him. "I've noticed you in the dining hall. You often share your food with younger students, even though you could use more yourself."
Ren shrugged, slightly embarrassed. "Some of them are hungrier than me. I'm used to getting by on less."
"And last week, when little Mira was crying because she couldn't complete her assignment, you spent your free hour helping her, even though you had your own work to do."
"She just needed someone to explain it differently," Ren said. "Like you do for us."
Mistress Elara nodded thoughtfully. "Kindness is a rare quality, Ren, especially in those who have had little kindness shown to them." She reached into her desk and pulled out a worn book bound in faded blue leather. "I think you might find this interesting. It's a basic primer on mana sensitivity exercises—techniques that can help develop your natural awareness of magical energy."
Ren accepted the book with reverence. It was clearly old and well-used, but cared for. "Thank you, Mistress Elara. I'll be very careful with it."
"It's not a loan," she said gently. "It's a gift. I've had it since my own school days, and it served me well. Now it can serve you."
Ren stared at her, momentarily speechless. Books were valuable, especially ones on magical theory. That she would give him such a treasure... "I don't know what to say."
"Say you'll practice the exercises," she replied with a smile. "Fifteen minutes each day should be sufficient. Mana sensitivity can be developed with consistent effort, even in those who haven't yet Awakened an Ability."
"I will," Ren promised fervently. "Every day, without fail."
As the seasons changed, Ren's life at the school settled into a rhythm. His academic progress, while still behind many of his peers, was steady and significant. The bullying from Bran and his friends continued but decreased in frequency as they found Ren's lack of reaction increasingly unsatisfying. Tomas, while never exactly friendly, became a consistent presence, occasionally offering advice or sharing useful information.
And Mistress Elara became more than just a teacher. She was a mentor, someone who saw potential in Ren that others overlooked. She lent him additional books, answered his endless questions with patience, and sometimes shared stories of her own journey—how she had Awakened a modest C-class Ability that enhanced her teaching capabilities, how she had chosen to use it at the Public School rather than seeking more prestigious positions.
"The rank of your Ability doesn't determine your worth," she told him once, when he expressed anxiety about his future Awakening. "It's what you choose to do with whatever gifts you have that matters."
Winter came to Grandia, bringing shorter days and bitter cold. For the first time in his life, Ren didn't have to worry about finding shelter from the elements or scrounging for enough food to keep warm. The school's stone walls kept out the worst of the chill, and while the dormitory was far from luxurious, it was a haven compared to the alleys and abandoned buildings where he had previously sought refuge.
One snowy evening, as Ren was returning to the dormitory after his kitchen duties, he heard muffled crying coming from a small alcove near the courtyard. Following the sound, he found a young boy—no more than seven or eight—huddled against the wall, shivering in clothes too thin for the weather.
"Are you alright?" Ren asked, crouching down beside him.
The boy looked up with tear-streaked cheeks. "I-I'm fine," he stammered, though he clearly wasn't.
"You're new here," Ren observed. He recognized the lost, overwhelmed look all too well. "Just arrived today?"
The boy nodded. "My parents... there was a fire in our shop. They couldn't afford to keep me at home anymore." Fresh tears welled in his eyes. "I don't know anyone here. And some bigger boys took my blanket and said I had to pay to get it back, but I don't have any money."
Ren felt a surge of protective anger. Likely Bran and his friends, finding a new, even more vulnerable target. "What's your name?"
"Eli," the boy sniffled.
"I'm Ren. Come on, Eli. Let's get you warmed up, and then we'll sort out this blanket situation."
He led the boy to the kitchen, where the ovens were still warm from the evening meal. Mistress Fenna, seeing Eli's condition, clucked sympathetically and provided a cup of hot cider and a leftover roll, waving away Ren's offer to work extra hours in exchange.
"You're a good lad," she told Ren quietly as Eli ate. "Not many would bother with a stranger's troubles."
Ren shrugged, uncomfortable with the praise. "I know what it's like to be alone and cold."
After Eli had warmed up, Ren took him to the dormitory master and explained the situation. The man sighed heavily but provided a new blanket, muttering about "having words with those troublemakers."
That night, Ren gave up his lower bunk for Eli, taking the previously empty top bunk himself. As they settled in for sleep, Eli whispered, "Why are you being so nice to me?"
Ren thought about it for a moment. "Because someone should be," he said finally. "And because I know what it feels like when no one is."
The next day, when Bran and his friends cornered Eli in the courtyard, they found Ren standing beside him. No words were exchanged, no threats made. Ren simply looked at them steadily, his quiet determination a contrast to their bluster. After a tense moment, they walked away, finding easier targets elsewhere.
Word spread quickly through the school about Ren's intervention. Other younger students began to seek him out for help with bullies or difficult assignments. Ren helped where he could, sharing his growing knowledge and offering the same patient guidance that Mistress Elara had shown him.
One evening, as winter began to soften toward spring, Mistress Elara kept Ren after class once again. This time, however, she seemed more serious than usual.
"I've been watching your progress carefully, Ren," she said, gesturing for him to sit. "Not just academically, but in all aspects of your time here. You've shown remarkable growth."
"Thank you, Mistress Elara," Ren replied, wondering where this conversation was heading.
"I want to talk to you about the Awakening Ceremony," she continued. "You're thirteen this year, correct?". Ren replied in the affirmative.
"You'll be eligible for your first attempt next year, when you turn fourteen. It's important that you understand what to expect."
Ren leaned forward eagerly. This was the moment he had been working towards for the past three years at the school, the first concrete step on his path to becoming a hero.
"The Public Awakening Ceremony is held twice yearly," Mistress Elara explained. "It's free for your first attempt, which is fortunate as the private ceremonies can be quite costly. During the ceremony, you'll interact with an Awakening Crystal, which serves as a catalyst for your latent magical potential."
"And if I have enough potential, I'll Awaken an Ability," Ren said, unable to keep the excitement from his voice.
"Possibly," she cautioned. "But I want you to be prepared for all outcomes. Many students don't Awaken an Ability on their first attempt, or even their second or third. Some never do."
Ren's enthusiasm dimmed slightly. "I understand. But I have to try."
"Of course you do," she agreed. "And you should. But there's something else you need to understand about Abilities and their classification."
She went on to explain the ranking system in detail—how Abilities were classified from E (the lowest) to SSS (the highest and rarest), how this classification affected one's opportunities and social standing, how even within the same rank, Abilities varied widely in their applications and potential.
"The most powerful Abilities—those ranked S and above—are exceedingly rare," she said. "They typically manifest in those with strong magical lineages or unusual circumstances. The vast majority of Talented have C or D-class Abilities, with B-class being considered quite fortunate."
"And the Grandia Army?" Ren asked. "What rank do you need to join them?"
Mistress Elara sighed. "The elite forces—the Mages and Swordmasters you've seen—typically require at least B-class Abilities, often A or higher. But," she added, seeing his expression fall, "there are many roles within the Army for those with lower-ranked Abilities, especially if they're tactically useful."
Ren nodded, absorbing this information. The odds seemed increasingly stacked against his dream, but he refused to be discouraged. "Even a low-ranked Ability is better than none," he said firmly. "And whatever I Awaken, I'll find a way to use it to help others."
Mistress Elara smiled, a hint of pride in her eyes. "That attitude will serve you well, Ren, regardless of what the future holds." She reached into her desk and pulled out a small, cloth-wrapped bundle. "I have something else for you."
Ren unwrapped the bundle to find a simple wooden wand, about the length of his forearm, polished to a soft sheen.
"A focus," Mistress Elara explained. "For practicing the mana exercises in your book. It's not enchanted or particularly powerful, but it will help you direct what little mana you can sense before your Awakening."
Ren ran his fingers over the smooth wood, feeling a faint resonance with his growing mana sensitivity. "It's beautiful," he said softly. "Did you make it?"
"My father did," she replied. "He was a wandmaker of modest talent. This was one of his training pieces—simple but well-crafted. I think he would be pleased to know it's being used by someone with your determination."
Ren carefully rewrapped the wand. "I'll practice every day," he promised. "And I'll make you proud at the Awakening Ceremony."
"You already make me proud, Ren," Mistress Elara said gently. "An Ability, whatever its rank, doesn't define your worth or your potential to do good in this world. Remember that, whatever happens."
As spring blossomed across Grandia, bringing new life to the city's many gardens and parks, Ren felt his own life blossoming as well. He had found a place where he belonged, however tentatively. He had a purpose that drove him forward each day. He had Mistress Elara's guidance and the growing respect of his peers, earned through consistent kindness and hard work rather than power or privilege.
Most importantly, he had hope—not the desperate, clinging hope of his street days, but a steadier flame, nurtured by knowledge and genuine progress. The Awakening Ceremony was still months away, and his future remained uncertain. But for the first time, Ren could see a clear path forward, illuminated by the light of learning and the warmth of connection.
Late one night, long after the other boys had fallen asleep, Ren sat cross-legged on his bunk, the wooden wand balanced across his palms. With his eyes closed, he practiced the mana sensing exercises from Mistress Elara's book, reaching out with his consciousness to feel the subtle currents of magical energy that flowed through all things.
The sensation was still faint, like trying to hear a whisper from across a crowded room, but it was growing stronger with practice. Sometimes, if he concentrated just right, he could direct a tiny thread of mana through the wand, causing it to warm slightly in his hands.
It wasn't much—nothing compared to what even a low-ranked Talented could do—but it was progress. It was potential. It was a beginning.
As the wand grew warm beneath his fingers, Ren smiled in the darkness. Tomorrow would bring more lessons, more practice, more small steps toward his goal. And someday, perhaps, the chance to become the hero he had dreamed of being since that day he watched the Grandia Army return in triumph.
For now, though, this moment was enough—the quiet dormitory, the wand in his hands, and the knowledge that he was no longer alone in his journey.
Carefully placing the wand in his trunk, Ren settled back onto his bunk. On the shelf above his bed sat the book on mana sensitivity, alongside Tomas's primer and two other texts Mistress Elara had given him. His small collection of treasures, more valuable than gold to a boy who had once had nothing.
As sleep began to claim him, Ren's last conscious thought was of gratitude—for the Public School, for Mistress Elara, for the chance he had been given. Whatever challenges tomorrow might bring, he would face them with the same quiet determination that had brought him this far.
And perhaps, just perhaps, that would be enough to carry him all the way to his dream.