The Ceremony Master stood at the altar. His tall, poised form commanding beneath the temple's light.
Before him was a pool of shimmering clear spring water, surrounded by a small crowd of ten-year-old elves.
"I believe each and every one of you has been properly informed of what to expect when the ceremony begins, but for the sake of clarity, allow me to spell it out for you one more time."
The ceremony master looked sternly into the crowd of noble elves, whose auras—undiminished even at the tender age of ten—clearly set them apart from common elven folk.
"When I say so, I want each of you to step into the pool in an orderly manner."
"When you do, you will begin to feel the presence of pure mana and spiritual energy seeping into your mana veins," the ceremony master said, pausing as his eyes swept sternly across the crowd.
"For those of you who can control mana, use this opportunity to draw more from the spring. It might be painful, but this could be the only chance many of you will ever have not only to make use of spirit spring water this potent, but also to strengthen your foundation."
Aeon, among the crowd of children, looked on nervously with rapt attention as the ceremony master summed up the lessons his father had been drilling into his skull for the past three years.
When the ceremony finally began, silence fell.
The air grew richer, the light from the pool grew brighter, and a faint hum resonated through the surroundings. As the shimmering glow intensified, Aeon felt a surge of energy wash through him.
***
[..1%....]
A screen flashed before his eyes, glowing with a soft blue light.
But he barely noticed it; most, if not all, of his attention was fixed on the graceful course of energy seeping into his mana veins from the pool.
He concentrated on its rhythm, using his mind to feel its flow, until finally he wrapped his mind around it, forcing fourfold the energy to surge within him.
[..4%.....]
[..7%..... ]
"Urgh!"
He groaned from the shock of the impact, feeling terrible pain in his insides.
[..12%....]
The rampaging flood of mana filled his being as the text on the screen began to shift.
[..65%... ]
Strength coursed through his body, flesh knitting tighter as lean muscle formed where frailty once lingered.
Faint light traced along his veins, burning away the blockages that had long stifled his mana.
His frame stretched, bones snapping into place as his body reshaped itself into one capable of bearing the power now stirring awake within him.
[..75%...]
The wild currents of mana slowed, growing smoother and more controlled.
[..89%...]
Then, in the depths of his being, a radiant white core with greenish hues began to form.
The surface glowed with purity, becoming the foundation of his newfound strength
[..100%...]
Ding!
***
"Fwooo…"
Aeon exhaled softly, long and steady, like wind slipping through parted lips.
He felt different—stronger, reborn.
He opened his eyes, flexing his hands in concentration.
"Alright, I believe everyone has completed their awakening, thus establishing a contract with Terra's system."
The Ceremony Master declared, cutting into Aeons's thoughts before he could gather them.
"Through the established contract, you should now be able to view your status screens."
The master of ceremonies watched quietly as hushed murmurings spread through the crowd.
He observed them scrutinizing their status screens—some with deep scowls, most with wide smiles, and a few with barely contained grins
"For those who have awakened A-class or S-class talents, I expect to see you at the academy working harder, so as not to waste your potential."
"Now, scurry out of my temple. Your guardians await you at the temple's entrance."
When Aeon stepped out of the spring, he noticed—oddly enough—that it did not wet his clothes.
He followed the temple priests ushering them out, along with many other ten-year-old elves like himself, all dressed in luxurious elven-styled robes bearing the insignias of their noble houses.
"Aeon!"
Looking slightly behind, he noticed a girl with silver-white hair smiling brightly as she approached him.
"Isolde?"
He slowed his steps just enough for her to catch up, noticing how everyone parted the moment they saw her insignia—golden threads artistically woven into the likeness of a great tree,
the emblem of the royal family, the same as his.
***
"So…" Isolde asked with a bubbling smile.
"How did it go?"
"It was intense," he replied.
"And your trait rank?" she pressed.
"Haven't checked yet," he said, shrugging his shoulders.
"Come on… if you tell me yours, I'll tell you mine," she whined in the familiar way she always did when she wanted something from him.
She leaned in close, her eyes sparkling just inches from his.
He thought to himself that, from the way her smile still tugged at the corners of her lips, it wasn't hard to guess she was probably eager to show off her trait rank.
"I really haven't checked yet."
"Hmph!" Isolde huffed, tossing her face to the side.
She crossed her arms and puffed out her cheeks in a pout.
Aeon sighed, relenting the moment he saw her childish act.
"I'll tell you all about it once we get to the carriage."
Her head snapped back toward him, eyes narrowing with mock suspicion. "You promise?"
"I do," he said with a small nod.
Isolde almost immediately bounced on her toes, with a big grin lighting up her face.
By the time they finished talking, they had reached the temple's grand entrance—massive doors carved from wood and stone, framed by graceful arches.
When they stepped through, they were greeted by four of Isolde's guards and one of his own.
"Your Highness."
"Your Highness."
"Your Highness."
"Your Highness."
"Young Master."
Behind them came the sight of a beautiful gold-and-green carriage, plated with the crest of the royal family.
An innovative locomotive powered by mana.
"This way, Your Highness. Lady Firael awaits," said one of the guards as he led them down the stairs.
Following slightly behind Isolde, with his own guard at his back, Aeon almost felt sorry for the families who stood around, bowing patiently.
But then he thought, "Well, the temple doors had only been opened today because the royal children were having their Awakening."
Closer to the carriage, he could already see Lady Firael within its doors.
Her silver-white hair—matching Isolde's—shimmered softly, like strands of moonlight cascading in gentle waves.
Her skin was smooth and pale, with a soft glow that wasn't quite light but felt like it.
To Aeon, she carried a kind of beauty that didn't ask to be noticed—calm, timeless, and impossible to look away from once you had.
"Mom."
"Your Highness."
They both greeted Lady Firael—Aeon a little more formally than Isolde.
Though Aeon carried royal blood and name, Isolde's mother—married to the king's brother—was of the direct royal line, placing her higher in hierarchy than him.
"You know you don't have to be formal with me, Aeon," Isolde's mother said gently, a smile softening her face.
"Yes, Auntie"
"Now, you both hurry on in—don't keep people waiting."
Once they were inside the carriage, Isolde could barely contain herself.
"We're finally in! Quick, check your status!"
She said, her words tumbling out in excitement.
"Alright, alright," he replied, chuckling.
'Status' he muttered inwardly
Ding!