Morning sunlight streamed through the cracks of our worn wooden window, painting golden lines across the ceiling. I stayed in bed for a while longer, listening. The birds chirped their usual cheerful chorus outside, mingling with the distant laughter of children already up and about. The breeze carried with it the faint scent of fresh bread from the baker's house down the road, and the hum of the World Crystals beneath the earth—a soft, almost musical vibration only those attuned could sense.
I smiled to myself. This... this was home.
But beneath that peace, I could feel it—that low hum of tension in the air, like the world holding its breath. Tomorrow was the Skill Granting Ceremony, the day our destinies would be carved into stone.
"Keal! Breakfast's ready!" Mom's voice, soft and melodic, drifted up the staircase, wrapped in warmth.
"Coming!" I called back, forcing the nervous thoughts away as I swung my legs over the side of the bed.
I stretched, groaning slightly as my back cracked from yesterday's labor. Chopping wood, fixing the roof, hauling water—it wasn't glamorous, but I did it so my family wouldn't have to. I pulled on my simple tunic and tied my worn boots, their soles barely holding together.
Blanc snored softly in the bed beside mine, his small body curled beneath a thin blanket. His white hair stuck out in every direction, like a wild cotton bush.
I knelt beside him, nudging his shoulder gently. "Blanc, wake up. Breakfast."
"Mmgh... five more minutes..." he grumbled, burrowing deeper into his pillow.
I couldn't help but chuckle. "If you're late, Mom'll save the last rootcake for me."
His eyes snapped open instantly. "No fair!"
I laughed as he scrambled to his feet, his tiny hands fumbling to get his slippers on the right feet.
Downstairs, sunlight poured through the open shutters, illuminating the modest kitchen where Mom hummed a soft tune while setting the table. The scent of fried rootcakes and sunfruit stew wrapped around me like a comforting blanket.
Dad sat by the window, sharpening his old farming knife. His strong, weathered hands moved with steady purpose. He greeted me with a nod and a slight smile. "Morning, son."
"Morning, Dad," I replied, settling down at the table.
Mom placed a plate in front of me, her hands gentle but worn. "Eat up, Keal. You'll need your strength for tomorrow."
I tried to smile, but the mention of tomorrow tied a knot in my stomach. "Right... tomorrow."
Blanc was already stuffing his face, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk. "Mmm! Soo good!" he said between bites.
I laughed, ruffling his wild hair. "Chew first, talk later. Or you'll choke one day, dummy."
He stuck his tongue out at me, playful and carefree.
How easy it was for him to smile like that. I wanted to protect that smile, no matter what it took.
As we ate, I glanced out the window. I could see other youths my age sparring with wooden weapons in the distance, practicing spells, or poring over dusty books. The whole village was alive with energy, every young adult preparing for the ceremony.
Whispers followed some of them.
"I heard Lira's aiming for a Mid-tier sword skill."
"They say Terren's family is praying he gets a Firecraft ability."
"What if I only get a Low-tier? What then?"
The World System, Earth, would decide it all. One moment, one pulse of light, and our fates would be sealed.
The World System didn't care about our dreams. Only about balance, or so they said.
High-tier? You were destined for greatness.
Mid-tier? You'd live a comfortable life.
Low-tier? ...People pitied you. Or worse—mocked you.
But what if I didn't care about power for glory's sake?
I clutched my fork tighter. I just want enough strength... enough to protect them.
"Lost in thought again?" Dad asked, breaking through my reverie.
I looked up to find his steady gaze on me.
"Yeah... I guess I'm just wondering what tomorrow will bring."
He leaned back in his chair, a faint smile beneath his grizzled beard. "Whatever it is, Keal, remember this: a man's worth isn't measured by the power he's given, but by how he uses it."
Mom nodded, wiping her hands on her apron. "The System gives the skill. But your heart gives it meaning."
Their words settled into my chest like a warm ember.
After breakfast, Dad and I headed out back to repair the fence. The wind carried the scent of freshly tilled earth and wildflowers.
Blanc ran circles around us, brandishing his wooden sword and shouting about becoming the "Greatest Hero Ever!"
"Careful, Hero Blanc," I called out, hammering a loose plank back into place.
"You'll trip over your own cape."
"I don't have a cape yet!" he shouted proudly. "Heroes get theirs after their first monster battle!"
I smiled, driving another nail into the cracked wooden post.
"If only the world stayed this simple."
But I knew better.
Beyond these hills lurked danger. Bandits who preyed on weak travelers. Monsters that crawled from the dark corners of forgotten ruins. And cruel men who saw families like ours as nothing but stepping stones.
If my skill tomorrow was useless... what then?
Later that afternoon, I wandered down the village road. Children played tag between the market stalls, their laughter echoing through the cobbled streets. Merchants displayed wares—glimmering crystals, tanned hides, hand-carved trinkets.
Near the training grounds, I found some of the other soon-to-be ceremony-goers.
Terren, tall and confident, swung his wooden sword in practiced arcs. "Hey, Keal," he called. "Coming to spar? Gotta show the System you're ready!"
I gave a small smile. "Maybe later. My arms are still sore from fixing the fence."
Lira sat nearby beneath the shade of a tree, her fingers weaving a charm from colored threads. "Don't worry, Keal. You'll probably get some Earth-type crafting skill. You're always fixing things anyway," she teased, though her tone was kind.
"Guess I'll be the village handyman forever," I joked, though a small part of me wondered if that would be such a bad thing.
Joren, always the worrier, sat with his back against a stump, biting his nails. "What if I get nothing? Or worse... a cursed skill like Shroud Voice or Wasting Touch?"
"No one's gotten a cursed skill in years," Lira said, rolling her eyes.
"But it could happen!" Joren insisted, his voice trembling slightly.
I placed a hand on his shoulder. "Whatever happens, we'll face it together. Skills don't define who we are."
His eyes softened slightly. "Thanks... I hope you're right."
The sun began its descent, bathing the village in a golden glow. I made my way home, the weight of tomorrow still pressing against my chest.
That night, after the dishes were washed and the lamps dimmed, the house settled into a calm quiet, broken only by the soft creak of the rafters and the distant chirping of crickets.
I lay in bed, staring at the cracked ceiling, my mind racing with thoughts of tomorrow. The shadows danced with the flickering candlelight, casting strange shapes across the walls.
"Keal?" Blanc's small voice whispered from the bed beside mine, barely audible beneath the blanket he'd pulled up over his head.
"Yeah, Blanc?" I turned slightly, smiling into the darkness.
"Do you think… do you think I'll ever get a cool skill like you will tomorrow?" His voice trembled, a mixture of excitement and uncertainty.
I propped myself up on one elbow. "Of course you will. Maybe even cooler than mine."
He peeked out from under the blanket, his white hair sticking up like a startled squirrel. "You think I'll get... Flame Wings? Or Thunder Roar?"
I laughed softly. "Who knows? Maybe you'll surprise the whole world and get Dragon's Breath or Starfall Blade."
Blanc's eyes sparkled in the dark. "That'd be awesome..." He paused. "...But what if... what if I get something lame? Like, I dunno, Rock Nose or Moss Growing..."
I smiled and reached over to ruffle his hair gently. "Then you'll be the best moss-grower the world's ever seen."
He giggled but quickly fell quiet again. "...Keal, are you scared about tomorrow?"
The question caught me off guard. I hesitated. "...A little."
"Even you?" His voice was small, almost surprised.
"Yeah," I admitted softly. "Because I don't know what the System will give me. But no matter what happens, I'll use it to protect you and Mom and Dad. That's all that matters to me."
For a moment, there was only silence between us, filled by the night breeze brushing against the wooden walls.
Then Blanc whispered, "When I grow up, I'll protect you too, Keal."
I felt something tighten in my chest. "Heh... Deal. But don't grow up too fast, okay?"
"Okay..." he mumbled sleepily. "But if I get Dragon's Breath... I'm roasting all the bandits first."
I chuckled quietly. "I'll hold you to that."
Within minutes, his soft, steady breathing filled the room. I lay awake a while longer, staring at the shadows on the ceiling.
"Please... let me be strong enough."
The night wind stirred the branches outside our window, carrying with it the faint rustle of the oak's leaves, like distant voices sharing secrets I wasn't meant to hear.
I closed my eyes and let the darkness take me.
Tomorrow would come. And when it did...
I would face it.