Chapter 13 – A World Beyond the Gate
The morning sun cast warm golden hues over the village rooftops as soft winds whispered across the training field. Magic was thick in the air—subtle vibrations that tickled the skin. The courtyard of Ray's home buzzed with life. Birds chirped overhead, mana-charged training dummies stood in their usual positions, and the sound of metal against metal echoed rhythmically. It was a day like any other—or so it seemed.
Ray sat lazily on the porch, legs swinging, an apple in hand and a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Why are you two sweating this early? The sun's barely woken up. Are you being punished?"
"Ray," Aeron huffed, brushing sweaty bangs from his brow, "it's called training. You'll understand when you stop being a baby."
"I'm five," Ray deadpanned, chewing exaggeratedly on the apple. "I know how to walk now. That makes me basically a warrior."
Their father, Damian, chuckled. He stood tall in the courtyard, his broad shoulders relaxed, his black shirt rolled up to his elbows. Though his demeanor was gentle, his eyes never stopped watching. "He's not wrong, technically. He can walk without falling on his butt anymore. That's progress."
"Father!" Rhea protested, cheeks puffed adorably. "He just called himself a warrior for knowing how to walk. Don't encourage his nonsense!"
Ray raised a finger solemnly. "Correction: I walk with style."
Damian laughed again, the warm sound echoing under the large oak tree at the courtyard's edge. "Alright, enough comedy. Aeron, Rhea—again."
The twins nodded, their expressions sharpening. Aeron took a deep breath, stepping forward. His body moved with precision now, less like a child and more like a budding warrior. As he swung his sword, his shadow behind him shimmered—then twisted unnaturally.
Ray blinked. "Uh… is his shadow alive?"
A dark silhouette lunged alongside Aeron's blade, striking the training dummy with eerie synchronicity. The dummy cracked, then burst apart with a wooden shriek.
"Yup," Damian said proudly. "That's his class power. Shadow Swordsman. Very rare—rare enough to make the guild recruiters cry."
"I knew he was cheating," Ray muttered.
"I'm not cheating," Aeron grinned, tossing a pebble at Ray. "My shadow just has better taste in violence."
"Great," Ray said dryly. "Your imaginary friend can murder people now."
Rhea stepped up next, brushing her ponytail back. "Watch closely, Ray. This is how a real professional works."
Her body shimmered. For a brief moment, Ray thought she disappeared. Then, bam, she reappeared behind another dummy, her silver blade cutting in three perfect arcs. The dummy stood silently.
Then fell apart.
"That's… not fair either," Ray mumbled.
"Chrono Dancer," Damian said proudly. "She manipulates time in short bursts. Think of it like a really fancy dodge button."
Ray clapped. "You mean she teleports and slices people's butts."
"I don't aim for butts!" Rhea shouted, face red.
"Maybe you should. That way they remember you."
Their mother walked over with a tray of drinks—her robe dusted with flour from baking. She handed everyone a cool herbal tonic, wiping Ray's mouth gently as she passed him his.
"You all look like wild monkeys. Please don't break anything this week," she said sweetly.
"No promises," Aeron muttered.
As they sat under the shade, sipping and catching their breath, Damian looked thoughtful. He stared at his two awakened children, then down at Ray.
"You three are growing too fast," he murmured.
Rhea leaned in. "Father, when do we… you know, go?"
He met her eyes. "Soon."
Ray tilted his head. "Go where? You're not moving out, right? That would be rude. Who would argue with me over breakfast?"
Damian chuckled, but his gaze turned serious. "Let me tell you something, all of you—especially you, Ray."
The air shifted slightly. Even the wind seemed to hush.
"Once a child awakens their class at age nine, they're not just celebrated. The System—yes, the same force that blesses the awakened—immediately recognizes them. And then…"
He looked toward the distant sky.
"They're pulled into the Second World."
The twins stiffened. Ray's apple fell to the floor.
"You what now?" he asked, eyes wide. "They get—what, teleported?"
Damian nodded slowly. "Each awakened child is given a quest. A divine task, issued either by the System or, if you're lucky… a god. They're sent to Dravania—the Second World. It's where true growth begins. That world is raw, wild, filled with beasts and ancient ruins. The environment is harsh, but it pushes you beyond your limits."
Aeron's hand clenched. "Is it dangerous?"
"Yes," Damian said gently. "But also… beautiful. That world teaches you who you are. Whether you're strong enough to protect what matters."
Rhea looked uncertain. "But… we won't be able to return?"
"You will," their mother said, placing a hand on Rhea's shoulder. "When your task is done. You return stronger. Wiser."
Ray stayed quiet, his small fingers clutching his knees.
"What about me?" he whispered. "I haven't awakened. Will I be left behind?"
Damian crouched beside him and ruffled his hair. "You'll awaken when it's your time. Don't rush it. The System watches, even when you think it sleeps."
Ray mumbled. "Stupid System."
"Language," his mother warned gently.
"Sorry. Dumb System."
The family laughed, though a hint of heaviness lingered.
The sun dipped lower, casting longer shadows as the day stretched on. Later, as the twins practiced channeling mana under their father's watchful eye, Ray sat on the porch again, alone with his thoughts.
The world was bigger than he realized.
And maybe… his place in it wasn't so simple.
------
Chapter 14 – The Day Before the Journey
The entire village of Thorne was glowing.
Colorful banners fluttered across rooftops, magical lanterns hovered in the air like fireflies, and laughter echoed in every direction. Even the cobblestone streets seemed to shimmer under the soft enchantments laid by the local mages.
Ray stood at the edge of the village square, his mouth agape.
"Woah… did we win a war or something?"
Aeron grinned beside him, adjusting the fancy embroidered vest he clearly wasn't used to. "Nope. Just a small party to celebrate us becoming cool."
Rhea rolled her eyes but smiled, holding her new silver dagger against her hip like it was part of her soul. "The Awakening Festival, dummy. It happens once a year when the new batch of kids turns nine."
Ray's eyes widened. "Wait, so this is an annual event? And you guys are acting like celebrities?"
"We are celebrities," Aeron said smugly. "We're leaving for the Second World tomorrow. Today, we party like war heroes."
"You're nine," Ray deadpanned.
"And I'm still cooler than you," Aeron replied, tousling Ray's hair before darting away into the crowd.
The central square had transformed into a festival ground. A circular dance floor had been carved out with glowing runes, and wooden stalls offered sweets, roasted meats, and fizzy glowing drinks that made children giggle after every sip.
A stage had been built at the far end, where musicians played enchanted instruments. The sound of drums mixed with wind flutes filled the air with a rhythm that made everyone's foot tap without realizing.
"Ray! Come here, sweetie!"
Ray turned to see his mother waving at him from one of the stalls. She wore a flowing purple dress, her dark hair braided and pinned with silver clips. She looked radiant—and relaxed, a rare sight.
"Coming!" Ray ran up, grabbing a chunk of sweet-glazed bread from her tray.
His father walked over carrying a mug of spiced fruit brew and sat beside them with a satisfied sigh.
"Not bad, huh?" Damian said, sipping. "Better than last year. They added spark runes to the bonfire logs."
Ray's eyes widened. "That sounds dangerous."
"That's what makes it fun," his dad grinned.
A loud cheer erupted from the square.
"Games are starting!" someone shouted.
The children gathered at the center where a group of older teens—likely the last year's awakeners—stood waiting. One held a glowing orb.
"First challenge!" the teen shouted. "Dodge the mana bomb!"
Ray blinked. "Wait, what?"
A glowing ball of blue mana was thrown into the air and exploded like a mini-firework, releasing shimmering orbs that scattered and darted around. The kids screamed and laughed as they ran, trying to dodge the zipping energy sparks.
Ray joined in without hesitation, darting between the glowing orbs, narrowly avoiding a red one that buzzed like an angry bee.
Aeron and Rhea were naturals, flipping and dodging like they were already battle veterans. At one point, Aeron grabbed Ray's hand and spun him out of the path of a fast-moving orb.
"See? I saved you. You owe me candy."
"You owe me everything, you shadow-summoning cheat," Ray shot back, panting.
Later, villagers and parents set up the sparring circle. Friendly duels between children, teens, and even adults. No serious injuries allowed—just light enchantments and pride.
"Next match: Rhea vs. Karna!"
Cheers erupted as Rhea stepped into the ring.
"Don't break his bones, sweetie!" their mother shouted.
"I make no promises!" Rhea grinned wickedly and dashed in.
Ray sat beside his father, watching proudly as his sister gracefully dodged a wide swing and tapped Karna with the hilt of her dagger.
"She's really strong now," Ray whispered.
"She is," Damian nodded. "So is Aeron. They'll do well in the Second World."
Ray didn't answer. He watched the flames of the bonfire dance higher, the runes crackling with harmless sparks of colored fire. Dancers now filled the circle, moving in rhythm with the beat—young couples, old friends, and even a few drunk uncles who stomped out of rhythm but with joyful hearts.
Rhea returned, sweaty but smiling, and sat beside Ray. Aeron soon joined, balancing a tray of grilled skewers.
"For you," he said, handing one to Ray.
"Trying to fatten me up before you leave?"
"Nope. Just bribing you so you don't cry tomorrow."
Ray froze.
"I'm not gonna cry," he muttered.
Rhea leaned in and kissed his cheek. "You're still our baby brother, even if you pretend to be an old man trapped in a small body."
"I am an old man trapped in a small—" he stopped, scowling. "Wait. That was an insult."
The three of them laughed under the stars.
As the celebration wound down, families slowly returned to their homes. The music softened, and the village dimmed into warm candlelight and mana lamps. The night held a kind of sacred silence.
Back at home, Ray lay curled on his bed, staring at the wooden ceiling. He could hear his siblings in the next room talking softly, their bags packed, armor polished, weapons sheathed and resting beside them.
His mother came in, sitting beside him on the edge of his bed.
"You okay?" she whispered.
Ray nodded slowly. "Yeah… I just…"
He hesitated.
She stroked his hair gently.
"I'll miss them," he whispered. "Even if they're annoying."
"They'll miss you too."
"I know I'm not awakened yet… but when I do…"
She smiled softly. "You'll be amazing, Ray. We believe in you. Even if your path is… different."
Ray blinked. "Different?"
She stood, brushing his hair back. "Go to sleep, little prince. Tomorrow's not your turn yet—but it will come."
And as she left, Ray stared into the shadows of his room.
Somewhere deep within, his soul stirred.
And for the first time in years… he felt something move.
Something quiet.
Something ancient.
Something… waiting.
------
Chapter 15 – The Night Before the Trial
The warm light of morning spilled through the windows, but the house was quiet.
Ray sat cross-legged in the hallway, staring at the half-open door to his siblings' room.
Inside, Aeron was carefully folding his cloak, sliding it into a small enchanted bag. Rhea polished her dagger again for the fifth time, even though it was already gleaming like silver under moonlight.
They were packing.
Because tomorrow, they'd be gone.
"Hey," Ray said, poking his head in. "You guys look like you're preparing for a war, not a trip."
Aeron smirked. "It is a kind of war."
Rhea didn't look up. "It's a test. The kind where you either pass or… well, you don't come back."
Ray's smile faded.
Damian, their father, walked in with a small crate of vials and wrapped scrolls. His expression was calm, but his eyes… they held the same storm he always wore before a real mission.
"Here," he said, placing the crate between the twins. "Emergency mana vials. One-time use scrolls. Small enchantment stones. Don't waste them."
Rhea peeked inside, eyes wide. "Dad, this is advanced stuff…"
"I know," Damian said quietly. "Because the world you're about to enter is nothing like this one."
Ray's curiosity stirred. "You mean the Second World?"
Damian sat down heavily, motioning Ray to sit close.
"The Second World is called Dravania," he said. "Long ago, it was a battlefield between gods and titanic beasts. When the gods gave humanity the gift of Awakening, they also opened a path to that world—for trial and growth."
Aeron leaned forward, eager. "What's it like?"
"Harsh," Damian answered. "Wild. Everything there can kill you—beasts, weather, terrain, even some of the plants. It's a land of primal chaos. Some places feel like ancient ruins, others like hellish jungles. And you won't be sent together."
Ray's head snapped up. "What?"
"Each awakener is randomly placed somewhere different," Damian said, voice heavy. "Even twins. The System doesn't care about family bonds. It gives each of you a Quest—and expects you to earn your return."
Rhea's lips thinned. "What kind of quests?"
Damian looked at his daughter for a long moment. "Some are simple—slay a beast, survive a week. Others… involve ancient ruins, broken Systems, or even corrupted tribes. There's no guarantee you'll get a 'fair' trial."
Ray felt cold. "That sounds like sending kids to war…"
His father didn't answer.
Instead, he stood and walked to the window, gazing toward the horizon.
"There are hundreds of children who fail their First Quest every year. Some vanish. Some die. Others go mad and never return to this world."
Aeron's fists clenched. "Then why do we have to go?"
"Because that's how humanity gets stronger," Damian replied. "You gain your Class. You receive the right to grow. In return, you prove yourself. If you survive your Quest, you return—with real power."
Ray looked between them, anxiety growing in his chest.
"You'll both be alone?"
Rhea reached over and squeezed Ray's hand. "Not forever. Just for the Quest. Once we pass it, we can meet again—here, or in the Second World."
"I don't like it," Ray muttered.
"Neither did I," his mother said softly, entering the room with a tray of hot tea. "But we all passed our first Quests too."
She handed a cup to each twin and bent down to kiss Ray's head.
"Your time will come, little one. But not yet."
"I don't want to be left behind."
His mother smiled sadly. "You won't be. We'll be here. You still have us."
That night, the village held a smaller, quieter gathering for the two.
Villagers came to wish them strength, offering charms, old weapons, and blessings. Aeron received a worn leather glove from an old hunter. Rhea was given a silver necklace from a retired healer.
And then, they danced again—one last time.
Ray sat between his parents, watching the firelight flicker across his siblings' faces. Aeron laughed with a group of other awakener boys, shadow-summoning little shapes of wolves and eagles for fun. Rhea spoke with the town's mage, asking about spell formations and defensive wards.
They were different now.
Stronger. Braver. Almost… grown.
Back at home, Ray sat on the porch with his father after everyone had gone to bed.
"Will they be okay?" he asked.
Damian didn't answer right away.
"They'll survive," he said. "Because they're my children. And because they have something to fight for."
Ray looked up at the stars.
"Someday… I'll awaken too. Right?"
Damian chuckled. "You will. And I feel sorry for whatever poor Quest gets stuck with you."
Ray grinned sleepily. "You mean I'll break it?"
"I mean you'll probably turn the Second World into a circus."
Ray leaned on his father's shoulder, slowly drifting off as the wind whispered around them.
The next day would come quickly.
And the world would change once more.
---Chapter 16 – After the Portal
It was early morning when the sky split open.
A ripple of silver light tore through the village square, like a curtain of reality being drawn aside. The Portal stood tall, humming, alive, and hungry.
Aeron and Rhea stood at its base in silence, bags slung over their shoulders, faces set in stone. The village gathered behind them, whispering prayers, clenching fists, hiding tears.
Ray watched from his father's arms, clutching the edge of Damian's cloak.
"Do they have to go alone?" he whispered.
"Yes," his father answered softly. "This is the way of the world."
Without ceremony, without farewell, the twins stepped forward. As they touched the silver ripple—
Shhhiiinnng!
—their bodies were swallowed. The Portal gave no sign of where they had gone.
Just silence.
Then the Portal flickered—and vanished.
Just like that, they were gone.
---
One Month Later
The house was quieter than usual.
Rhea's boots no longer clunked down the stairs. Aeron's voice no longer echoed through the halls as he argued with the family cook about breakfast portions.
Ray sat by the window, staring outside as snowflakes dusted the ground.
He didn't cry. But the emptiness inside made his chest feel hollow.
"They're fine," his mother said gently, running her fingers through his hair. "Your brother and sister are stronger than they look."
"I know," Ray muttered. "But it's boring without them."
Damian came in just then, holding a thick book and a rolled scroll under his arm.
"Time you learned a bit about what comes next," he said, sitting down across from Ray. "You'll awaken one day too. Might as well start preparing."
Ray's eyes lit up a little. "Really?"
His father nodded.
"Every Awakener gets their First Quest when they awaken. After they complete it, they're allowed back into this world—but with a mark."
"A mark?"
"A mark that proves they survived Dravania. It lets them access the Second Portal, which opens once a year. That's the real gate."
Ray blinked. "The one that leads back to the second world?"
"Yes. But not like the First Quest," Damian said. "This one's organized—by the powerful Families, by the Government. We send teams, armies, researchers. It's dangerous, but it's structured."
"So... you don't go in alone?"
"Not after the first time," his mother said, pouring them tea. "The Second Portal opens to established zones—outposts, cities, fortresses. Every one of them is owned and controlled by someone important."
Ray tilted his head. "Like who?"
Damian rolled out the scroll. On it were maps of Dravania—rivers, forests, jagged mountains—and glowing dots that marked locations.
"That one," he pointed, "is Blackhorn Keep. Controlled by the Varelian family—high-rank mages and beast tamers."
"This one—Thorne City—run by the military under direct government command. And this red one…" He hesitated. "That's a free zone. No one owns it. Yet."
Ray leaned in, fascinated. "So the strong families just… take over parts of the world?"
"Yes. That's how power works. They plant flags. Build walls. Train recruits. Protect what they claim. And through the Second Portal, they gather more Awakeners."
His mother interjected, "Of course, not everyone survives their First Quest. Maybe only 40% make it back. The ones who do—get to choose where they go next."
Ray frowned. "What if they don't want to go back?"
Damian laughed softly. "The System doesn't care what they want. It gives power, but it also demands responsibility. Once you awaken… the world is never the same."
Ray sat quietly, digesting it.
"So... the First Quest is survival. And the Second Quest is… war?"
His mother touched his cheek gently. "It's choice. Some fight, some build, some become researchers or merchants or healers. Dravania is dangerous, but it's also… potential."
"Potential for what?"
"To change everything."
Ray looked at the map again, small fingers tracing the paths.
He imagined Rhea standing atop a fortress wall, casting spells. Aeron leading a hunt deep in the jungle. The cities, the beasts, the magic...
And himself—somewhere in that future.
---
That night, as snow fell outside and the fire burned low, Ray sat at the window again.
"I miss them," he whispered.
"We all do," his father said behind him.
Ray stared into the distance, quiet, then whispered something again—too soft to hear.
But in the darkness of the house, his tiny voice carried forward, not as grief…
…but as a promise.
---