With Fang leading the way, we walked toward one of our huts. The one I had never been to before.
It stood outside the main living areas, completely overtaken by vines and jungle. Nature had purged every trace of human care from it.
'I heard there's some type of secret magical technique to open a path through the vines,'
'Fang doesn't know it, so I was really curious what he was going to do but…'
SWISH—SH—SH—SH!
He just started swinging his axe wildly at the wall of vines.
"What the hell."
'Force alone shouldn't be enough to cut through them like that,'
My feet crunched over dry leaves and over the bits of vine his swings flung away.
Above us, in the jungle, sunlight were filtered the sun into moving rays of gold and green. Sweat clung to my back and bugs zoomed around us.
Fang glanced over his shoulder, still slashing, and asked:
"How you holding up, boy?"
I didn't answer immediately.
He really hates small talk… Is he nervous?
"Don't worry, Father," I assured, thumping my chest firmly with my fist.
"I've got a feeling this is going to be interesting."
...Soon we reached the place: cleared land surrounded by high stone walls and woven huts.
In the center stood a small circular platform made of cracked stone with burnt edges. It definitely wasn't up to EPA standards, assuming such things existed here.
A handful of elders stood nearby dressed in ceremonial bone and feather. Beside them, a shaman held an ornamented bowl filled with glowing ash—probably flammable, probably not for fun.
A dozen children sat off to the side, each wearing deep-blue clothes similar to mine but of lesser quality.
They stared with expressions ranging from anxiety to pure fear.
"Line up!" shouted one of the elders.
The children moved quickly. I remained calm. I've never been good at feeling anxious, though it does happen sometimes.
One by one, the children stepped forward.
One by one, they failed.
There was no elemental response, no talent. Nothing but awkward silence and disappointed glances from their parents.
Most of the parents were speaking with Fang, and each bowed their head before addressing him.
Fang was this village's chief. From what I understood, someone like him getting the position is very rare.
It's crazy but, most prefects are children, usually daughters of some Yun. For that, people admired Fang.
I also noticed between the parents that some were foxes using their "masks" to hide their jealousy.
They probably wished for my failure too.
"Rakcha!"
It was finally my turn.
'Gods, what a terrible name.'
They said it was temporary. I really hope so.
I stepped forward.
The shaman chief gestured with his chin.
I responded in kind and sat down, following the procedure.
My legs crossed, shirt off, ribs exposed.
He drew spirals across my chest, then symbols along my spine, shoulders, and forehead.
The ash was cold at first but quickly turned hot, as if etching itself into my nerves.
I examined the markings.
'It's… familiar…'
'They look like those, uh… what's the name…' I stared at them. 'The world runes symbols.'
The shaman handed me a ornamented bowl filled with black ink.
I didn't have much choice.
Glup-glup.
Disgusting.
It tasted like sand.
"Huh?"
There was… a tiny colored rock shard in it. I asked, and they told me just to swallow everything.
The symbols before, and now this rock shard… I could vaguely guess what was happening here.
They're forcefully bringing out the children's talents.
'Bizarre. I don't recall reading that lore.'
I'd read quite a bit, but Ixtal didn't have much that picked my interest.
Crunch.
From the corner of my eye, I saw some of the kids whispering. Jealousy? Fear? Probably both.
Who cares,
It's Magic baby!
Who hasn't wished they could shoot laser beams from their eyes? Heck, imagine flying, how cool would that be?
They taught that there are seven elements in total; Air, Water, Fire, Earth, Light, Darkness and Spirit. To be gifted in even one of them is special—If you're from further Villas like ours anyways.
'I hope I can use magic.'
'All for a peaceful life.'
'...'
Don't you think it's curious? How peace is rarely granted to the weak, but rather stolen by those in power?
BADUM!
My heart resonated with a powerful beat.
CRACK!
The ground split beneath me.
A breeze circled my seated form. Dry leaves spun in slow, spiraling patterns.
Vrumm…
A low hum filled the air.
The rune drawn on my chest lit up; White. My hand, red. My back, a black so strong it bent light near it.
SWOOSH!
Light and wind rushed inward. Threads of energy carved into my soul, as if a god were giving me a tattoo.
I was sweating on the outside. Weightless on the inside. And… something else, profound, deeper than my soul.
Afterward, the symbols slowly lost their glow.
I looked around.
Three elders fell to their knees. One trembled. The shaman chief whispered something.
I rose to my feet,
The dust settled.
They stared at me.
"..."
The shaman chief finally muttered,
"Three affinities..."
Others murmured in disbelief.
"By the spirits..."
"There were definitely three..."
"Great Yun... He's just a hunters boy!"
Yes!
—is what I would say but,
But there's a huge, random problem.
I opened my status and glanced at my runes screen:
[Gathering Storm]
Years of passive growth…
evaporated.
'All my stacks are gone.'
Shit.