The time had come.
The Ceremony of Awakening—a sacred rite that determined the fate of every child in the Vale clan—was finally upon him. It was the moment where the System, forged by the Goddess of Magic and the God of Knowledge, would reveal Raelith's affinity to aether and decide his future.
Raelith stood in the golden morning light, clad in ceremonial robes lined with threads of phoenix silk. His silver hair was tied back, and a thin blade hung at his side—not for battle, but tradition. After exchanging a quiet nod with Seraphine in the training courtyard, and walking past the envious glares and whispering mouths of the other children, he made his way toward the clan's main ceremonial hall.
The towering obsidian doors were already open, revealing a sea of familiar and unfamiliar faces. Almost every elder and family member was present, gathered beneath the great crimson banners of the Vale clan. Even those who had once sneered at him, dismissed him, or resented his cold brilliance, now wore hopeful smiles on their faces.
Because this moment wasn't just about Raelith—it was about legacy.
If he awakened with Grade 5 affinity, the highest possible, then the Vale clan would not just gain a prodigy.
They might birth a demigod.
And with that, their influence in Everlight City—and perhaps all of Kalam—would ascend beyond imagination.
Raelith walked forward under the weight of expectation, his boots silent against the marble floor. And yet, inside, something stirred—a quiet unease, like a whisper from a past life reminding him:
Not all awakenings are gifts.
A hush fell over the chamber as the five Head Elders stepped forward, their robes heavy with embroidered runes and ancestral sigils. They stood in a semicircle around a massive black stone pillar—tall, ancient, and humming with dormant power. This was the Awakening Pillar, its surface etched with radiant blue and gold runes that pulsed faintly like a slumbering heart. It had been a gift from the Church of Knowledge, a divine artifact said to be directly connected to the System the gods had designed for mortals.
The Clan Patriarch, Lord Vale himself, moved forward to stand beside the pillar. His face was unreadable, but his eyes gleamed with restrained anticipation as he raised one hand and called Raelith forward.
"Step forth, child of the Vale. Let your soul be weighed by the gods."
Raelith took a breath and moved to the center, every eye following his slow, confident steps. His heart beat steadily, not with fear, but with hope—and maybe, just maybe, a little pride. His whole life had led to this moment.
He paused before the pillar, then turned to glance once—just once—at Seraphine, standing near the elders. She offered him a small nod, the kind only siblings understood. Encouragement. Belief. Love.
Then Raelith turned back, lifted his hand, and touched the pillar.
The hall waited. The silence became a living thing.
For Grade 5 affinity, the runes were said to erupt in divine fire. For Grade 4, a dazzling storm of elemental light. Even Grade 3 brought a wave of warmth and sound.
But this time… nothing.
No glow. No hum. No response.
The runes remained cold.
The pillar remained dark.
As if it hadn't even noticed him.
As if he didn't exist in the eyes of the gods.
Gasps rippled through the grand hall like a sudden gust of wind, breaking the silence that had settled over the crowd. Elders leaned forward in disbelief. Children who had once looked at Raelith with awe now whispered behind their hands. Even the fire torches flickered uncertainly, casting long, dancing shadows on the walls.
This wasn't just rare. It was impossible.
Every living being in Bridia—man or beast, elf or orc, even the lesser goblins—could form at least a partial connection to the System. Even a Grade 1 affinity caused the pillar to hum, flicker, or vibrate faintly. For someone like Raelith, a boy from the prestigious Vale clan, nurtured with the finest resources and training, this should have been his ascension.
But the pillar had remained inert.
The room buzzed with tension until one of the elders finally cleared his throat. "The artifact… it may be damaged," he suggested, though his voice lacked conviction. "It has stood here untouched for a decade. Perhaps the runes have decayed."
The Patriarch scowled but gave a swift nod. "Send for another. One from the Church of Knowledge. Spare no cost."
A pair of armored guards saluted and ran off without hesitation. The cost—ten thousand gold pieces—would be enormous, but it was a small price to pay to verify the future of the Vale clan.
Raelith stood still, his palm lowering from the black stone. His heart pounded louder than any whispers. His mind reeled.
Is it because… I'm not from this world? Because my soul is from Earth? Am I outside their system?
Doubt clawed at his thoughts like a creeping fog, but he forced his face to remain calm. Stoic. Unshaken.
When the second pillar finally arrived—glowing, pristine, still steaming from divine transport—the Head Elder himself stepped forth and activated it. The runes flared to life, casting a celestial glow across the marble floor.
"All present, bear witness," the elder said, eyes sharp as blades. "Raelith Vale, step forward once more."
He did. Slower this time.
And when he touched the second pillar, there was a breathless pause… followed by the same result.
Nothing.
Not even a flicker of acknowledgment.
A tense silence blanketed the hall again—but this time, it was heavier.
The Head Elder's expression darkened, his patience gone. "So… it wasn't the pillar," he muttered, loud enough for all to hear.
His gaze snapped toward Raelith with accusation, confusion—and the first hints of contempt.
"The problem… lies with you."
A ripple of murmurs surged through the chamber like a wave.
"A child with no affinity…"
"Could it be… cursed?"
"Or worse, tainted by demons?"
"Was he really born of Vale blood?"
Raelith's eyes scanned the room. He saw hope turning into disdain. Smiles melting into sneers. The warmth of the hall had turned cold, colder than death.
Lord Vale raised his hand, and silence returned. His sharp eyes—once glittering with pride—were now hard as steel.
"There has never been such a case in the history of this clan," he said slowly. "And by the divine law of the System, all who awaken as Grade 1 or higher have the right to train and serve."
He paused. His words cut like a blade.
"But this child… he does not even register."
Gasps echoed again, louder this time.
"I hereby declare Raelith Vale to be Grade Zero—a failed awakening," Lord Vale said. "An impossibility, and a stain upon the clan."
The room erupted in outrage. Several family heads rose to their feet.
"He must be exiled!"
"He's not one of us!"
"Let the gods judge his soul!"
Raelith stood still, numb. Not from shame, not even from fear. But from something deeper.
Loss.
Just as he clenched his fists, preparing to walk away in silence, a voice shattered the chaos.
"ENOUGH!"
It was Seraphine.
She stood with a fire in her eyes, her crimson robes flowing behind her like wings. She stepped between the elders and Raelith, her presence commanding silence.
"My brother is not a mistake," she said. "He is not broken, and he is not to be cast aside like a defective tool."
One of the elders frowned. "Seraphine, do not let emotion cloud—"
"Emotion?" she snapped. "He is my brother. He is of Vale blood. He will remain in this clan."
"Impossible! The law—"
"Then I will take responsibility." Her voice dropped in volume but gained weight. "From this day forth, I will provide for him. Train him. Protect him. If the clan sees him as useless, then let him be mine to carry."
Silence returned, but it was different now. Respect tinged the gazes of some. Others scowled but said nothing.
Lord Vale looked at his daughter—his pride, his chosen heir—and then at Raelith, still standing straight despite everything.
"So be it," he said at last. "Raelith will not be expelled. But know this—he is no longer an heir. No longer a disciple. And the clan owes him nothing."
Seraphine nodded once. "He'll rise without it."
Raelith looked up, meeting her gaze.
And for the first time since the ceremony began, he smiled.