"The crib… it's cracked again."
"Don't touch him. Just—just let him sleep. Last time he awoke and cried, the firewood lit itself."
"By the gods… what is he?"
Rei didn't understand the words. Not then.
All he knew was that he was alive.
And that everything around him felt impossibly, terrifyingly fragile.
Halden is a place so small it didn't appear on most maps. The villagers led quiet, reverent lives—farming by the seasons, leaving offerings to forest spirits, and whispering whenever a child showed signs of magical talent.
By the time Rei was three years old, he had learned two things:
One: He was not normal.
Two: He had to pretend he was.
His earliest memories weren't clear images, but bursts of sensation: the snap of static in the air when he got upset, the way a pot would shatter across the room when he reached for it in frustration, the guilt that came when candles flared to life during laughter.
Age 0: The Crib That Warped
It started early.
The moment Rei cried, things trembled.
The first time he was startled awake during a thunderstorm, every oil lamp in the house flickered at once. The hearth roared with sudden flame, even though no one had touched it.
He didn't understand it, of course. Not at that age.
But his parents did.
They began to whisper.
To avoid holding him when he was upset.
One day, a splinter of wood from his crib simply… curled in on itself. Warped like it had boiled.
That night, they wrapped him in blankets and placed a charm beneath his pillow.
Rei didn't know why.
But something in him understood:
"When I cry, the world cries back."
Age 1: The First Memory
He remembered very little from that year.
But one memory stuck—like a crack in a mirror he couldn't stop seeing.
He reached for a toy. A carved wooden rabbit. It sat on a windowsill, just out of reach.
He didn't crawl toward it. Didn't cry.
He just willed it.
And the toy shuddered, lifted an inch, then snapped in half with a pop of invisible pressure.
His father snatched him up.
Not with anger. But with fear.
They spoke in hushed tones behind their bedroom door that night. Words like:
"He didn't even touch it..."
"Don't tell the neighbors. Please. This needs to be kept secret."
Rei watched their shadows from under the door; their outlines jagged through the moonlight escaping from underneath.
Age 2: Laughter and Fire
By now, Rei could talk. Not well, but enough to ask questions.
"Why does the air tingle when I'm mad?"
"Why does the cat run away from me?"
"Why do lights go out when I laugh?"
"….Why do I have to be different?"
He stopped asking after a while.
The answers scared his parents.
One day, while chasing butterflies in the field, he tripped and scraped his knee.
He didn't even cry.
But still, the grass around him burned in a slow, smoky circle.
By the time his mother reached him, the air reeked of ash. She pulled him close, trembling.
"You have to be careful," she whispered.
And something in her voice made him understand:
"They're afraid of me."
Age 3: The Mirror Test
Children in Halden weren't tested for magic until they turned ten.
But Rei already knew. And he didn't need a Soul Tablet to prove it.
That spring, he stared into a mirror at dawn.
And for a moment—just one flicker—his reflection moved differently.
It blinked before he did.
Smiled when he didn't.
Then shattered into fog as if reality itself had exhaled.
The mirror didn't break.
But he felt the world hiccup.
After that, he made a decision.
"If they see what I am… they'll kill me."
So he stopped reacting when toys floated.
He learned to smile even when the odds were against him.
He whispered words from his old world when he felt himself fray.
He stopped being Rei.
And started being safe.
Age 4: Rei's Ritual
He'd sit alone in the fields each morning, legs crossed, spine straight, breathing in rhythm with the rising sun.
Inhale through the nose. Hold. Exhale through the mouth. Again. Again. Again.
He imagined a box inside his chest—black, heavy, locked tight. That's where he placed the pressure, the heat, the crackling hum beneath his skin.
Sometimes, when it grew too intense, he would whisper old words—memories from another life. Words no one else around him spoke.
English.
His mother's voice.
Not the one who raised him here.
The one from before.
Age 5: Rei's Practice
He would pick up stones, pressing just enough to hear them strain without breaking.
He'd touch trees, timing how long it took before the bark blistered under his fingers.
He'd try to walk ten steps without bending the grass beneath his feet.
It was exhausting.
But it worked.
By seven, the accidents had stopped. No more burnt blankets. No more rattling windows when he was angry. No more frightened glances from his parents.
He still woke some mornings drenched in sweat, fists clenched, whispering into the dark:
"I am still here. My parents are still here."
And somehow… that was enough.
The villagers stopped whispering.
His parents began to smile again.
Rei dared to believe: If I can keep it all controlled… maybe I can live in this world.
But the world had other plans.
The Appraiser
Rei Had just turned ten when the Appraisal Monk came to Halden.
He rode in on a white horse adorned with silver charms and crimson ribbons, his robes trailing like fire in the wind. He was a representative of the Unbreaking Law—a holy order tasked with identifying the Class Trees of children and assigning them their life paths.
The village celebrated his arrival.
Colorful banners waved.
Children lined up, freshly bathed and nervously dressed.
Parents stood beside them, both hopeful and afraid.
The Soul Tablet—a slab of polished obsidian—was placed before the shrine.
One by one, children stepped forward to receive their fate.
"Erin Thorne: Root of the Windwalker. Potential Ranger."
"Lasse Delwin: Root of Embercaller. Fire affinity. Low stability. Maybe a soldier"
"Deakrin Holt: Root of the Verdant Bloom. Earth affinity. You will help with reconstruction."
The villagers clapped as futures were set in motion.
Rei waited until the very end.
"Let the others go first," his parents kept saying. "It's safer that way."
When his name was finally called, Rei stepped forward without a word.
The monk offered a smile, crisp and ceremonial. "And you, young man?"
Rei placed his hand on the stone.
Nothing happened.
Then, it began to hum.
It wasn't a glow—it was a pulse.
Low. Deep. Like thunder echoing through a hollow mountain.
The runes didn't light up in neat rows like the others. They twisted, spiraled, warped into symbols that bent impossibly in on themselves.
The stone turned red.
Then black.
Then—
CRACK.
The tablet shattered.
The monk's staff split in two. The crowd fell silent.
"What… what did you do?" the monk whispered.
Rei's hand fell to his side.
"I didn't do anything," he said. "I never do."
The monk dragged him behind the shrine, out of sight from the others.
His voice dropped the polite mask. His hands trembled.
"That wasn't a class tree. That was a void. No branches. No leaves. Just… a trunk. Empty."
He fumbled with a charm around his neck, whispering protection spells.
"You weren't given a class. You are a class. A forbidden one."
He dropped a silver talisman on the grass. It hissed where it landed.
"If the Church finds out… they'll erase you. The Worldbreaker Class is not mythical. It's banned. You understand? Not to mention the Archons…"
Rei's heart thundered.
Worldbreaker.
The word hit him like a memory he'd forgotten to forget.
Then—it appeared.
[ Class Recognized: Worldbreaker ]
[ Cataclysm Gauge: 3% ]
[ Threat Assessment: Dormant – Unawakened ]
[ Passive Skill Unlocked: Reality Suppression (I) ]
[ Monitoring by the Crown has begun. ]
He didn't see it with his eyes—but somewhere behind them. Like a game screen. Like the ones from his old world.
The monk backed away.
"Leave. Disappear. Never use your power again."
That night, Rei sat beside the hearth, alone.
His parents slept peacefully, unaware.
He carved a single word into the stones with a blackened stick:
Thank you.
Then he walked out into the night.
The stars were distant. The forest loomed.
And inside him, the pressure stirred. It wasn't in rage. Not in hunger.
But in readiness.
[ Class Activated: Worldbreaker ]
[ Unique Trait: Cataclysmic Potential (Locked) ]
[ Progression: Event-Triggered Evolution ]
[ Warning: You are being hunted. ]
Rei didn't understand what he was yet.
Only that he had to learn.
Before the world decided to kill him first.