The streets were quieter than usual as Rowen walked home.
Everyone knew what tomorrow was.
Rowen pushed the door open and stepped inside the shop. The wooden sign on the door still said CLOSE. He flips the board to OPEN.
He dropped his bag behind the counter and sat on the stool. Outside, the street was quiet. Afternoon light streamed through the windows. He leaned forward, watching the road for a while—just in case someone wandered in.
By the time the clock hit 8:00 PM, he was still alone. With a sigh, he stood up and flipped the sign to CLOSED.
He stretched his arms and headed up the stairs to the small apartment above the shop. The stairs creaked, but he was used to it.
In the kitchen, he grabbed what was left of last night’s stew and heated it over the small stove. It was mostly potatoes and bits of dried meat, but it was enough.
He ate in silence, sitting by the window. In the distance, the upper-town lanterns were already glowing—a different world, one he wasn’t part of. Not yet.
He didn’t care about crystals or titles.
He just didn’t want to be left behind.
After cleaning up, he threw himself onto the cot and stared at the ceiling. His mind kept racing.
What if I don’t awaken? What then?
Eventually, he drifted off to sleep.
The sound of birds woke him.
Rowen blinked against the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. For a second, he forgot what day it was.
He sat up slowly, rubbing his face. His mouth was dry, and his stomach twisted with a nervous tightness. Not fear exactly—just too many thoughts.
He washed up quickly, then dressed in his best clean clothes. A plain dark shirt, patched at the shoulder, and worn boots he’d polished the night before. Not perfect, but decent enough.
Downstairs, he grabbed a piece of flatbread and some water. The shop stayed closed—he’d be gone most of the day anyway.
He glanced at the shelf where a small wooden box sat—one of the last things his grandfather had made. Roughly carved, stained dark with age, and sealed shut with a faded leather strap.
Rowen stepped closer.
He could still remember the old man’s voice, quiet but firm, that day before his death.
"After the Awakening. After the test. Not before. No matter what happens, Rowen—wait until then. You’ll understand when it’s time."
He didn’t know what was inside.
He never shook it. Never dared to open it.
Just waited, like he was told.
Rowen gave a small nod and stepped out into the street, locking the door behind him.
The town felt different this morning. Quieter. A little tenser. Other students were already heading down the main road toward the school grounds, most walking in small groups. Rowen fell in step behind them, alone.
The school buzzes with tension.
Inside the classroom, rows of desks are neatly arranged. Students sit quietly, each with a pen and a thin booklet in front of them—the Written Test.
It’s standard: basic theory of mana, crystal resonance, known affinities, and the ranks of the power system. Questions Rowen has studied a dozen times. Still, his fingers tremble slightly as he picks up his pen.
He glances at the clock rune hovering above the instructors.
He forces himself to focus.
When the test ends, the booklets are collected without a word. A teacher steps forward.
"Everyone, head to the school grounds. Line up for potential evaluation!"
Rowen stands and follows the others. Out in the field, the Awakening Device pulses with faint blue light—taller than a man, made of black stone with silver veins, softly humming with stored mana.
He’s waited his whole life for this moment.
Before the evaluation began, a federal officer addressed the crowd.
"This device," he said, gesturing to the structure, "was found deep inside a dungeon and is now linked directly to the Main System—a mana-based digital network. It doesn’t just measure potential. It also awakens your path, syncing your signature with the system."
He paused, letting the words sink in.
"Once awakened, you’ll be able to access the Main System from authorized terminals to browse techniques, request training modules, or track your growth. Your path begins here."
He holds a crystal slate, scanning names.
"This is it," Calen says quietly beside Rowen. He’s fidgeting, adjusting the straps on his jacket. "We touch that thing, and it decides who we are?"
Rowen just nods, staring at the monolith.
Behind them, students whisper. Some try to act confident. Others look sick.
The examiner raises his voice.
"When your name is called, step forward. Place your hand on the stone. Don’t speak. Don’t rush. The stone will respond if your soul is aligned with a path."
"If not... you may step aside. No shame in that."
A few snort. Some flinch.
Then the names begin.
One by one, students are called.
A girl steps up—confident, hair braided tight. She places her hand on the awakening device.
It flashes bright red.
"Path detected: Fire Mage. Potential: Adept Tier."
Cheers erupt from her side. She smirks, walking off without looking back.
Next, a boy steps forward. The stone glows faintly.
"Path detected: Knight. Potential: Low Trainee Tier."
Some get strong paths. Some are weak. Some, nothing at all.
The stone stays dim, and they walk away in silence.
"Calen Ashville," the examiner calls.
Calen swallows hard. He gives Rowen a crooked smile. "Wish me luck."
He steps forward, palms sweating. Touches the stone.
For a long second, nothing.
Then—a soft green light.
"Path detected: Tamer. Potential: Moderate Trainee Tier."
Calen stares at the glow. Then he grins wide and jogs back.
"A Tamer, Rowen! Did you see that? I knew it—I felt something."
Rowen tries to smile. Nods.
But inside, something tightens.