She was getting wetter by the second.
The moisture glistened on her forehead and beneath her robes as she stood near the ancient stele, its oppressive energy bearing down on her like a crushing weight.
Her breathing grew labored while she fought to maintain her composure, acutely aware of how her body was betraying her despite her efforts.
'Ridiculous,' she thought, feeling the dampness spread across her skin. 'Sweating like a novice at my age.'
But Elder Luna couldn't escape it. The stele's pressure was relentless—waves of ancient power that made even her seasoned bones ache with exhaustion.
Every moment standing this close drained her strength, leaving her drenched in perspiration she couldn't afford to show.
She straightened her shoulders and stepped onto the raised platform, refusing to let the crowd see her weakness. Her aged frame wrapped in ceremonial robes hid the trembling that threatened to expose her fatigue.
The stele's oppressive aura pressed against her like a living thing, but Elder Luna had endured decades of these ceremonies. She would not break now.
Golden sunlight spilled over the gathered crowd like molten honey, setting the cobblestones of Galley's village square ablaze with warmth.
Anticipation crackled through the air like electricity before a storm. Generations had stood on these very stones, waiting for their fates to be decided.
Today, it was their turn.
Her voice rang out with practiced authority, masking the exhaustion that pooled in every joint.
"Ancients are the enemies of this world!"
The words hit like hammer blows. Every teenager in the square felt their weight.
"They break into our realm to wreak havoc. They destroy everything we love, everything we know. They make our lives unbearable!" Her gnarled hands rose toward the sky. "They are evil incarnate!"
Hushed whispers rippled through the crowd. Some clenched their fists with newfound determination. Others shivered as fear crept up their spines.
"Our lives are not ours!" Elder Luna thundered. "Our fate does not belong to us! We are insects before this deadly race! The only path to survival is power!"
Hearts pounded like war drums. Power. The single word that separated warriors from corpses.
"Brave souls of Galley!" Her voice soared higher, passion turning each word into a weapon despite the fatigue gnawing at her bones. "Power is everything! Seek it! Bleed for it! Your very essence depends on this Linking!"
Her words echoed through the hearts of the teens, igniting a mix of hope and fear. Today was no doubt a turning point in their lives.
They had finally come of age and could now form a link with the origin. This would grant them a unique bloodline and the ability to summon the Origin scroll.
The importance of having a strong bloodline loomed over them, a reminder of the weight they carried as they stepped into adulthood.
As the passionate village elder continued her speech, the teens began to get more nervous. Numerous thoughts were going through their minds and the uncertainty of their fate was making them feel overwhelmed.
Among the crowd stood Ares Solovar, calm and collected amidst the storm of anxious peers.
With tousled dark hair framing his average features, he looked like a serene island in a sea of chaos.
No matter how one looked at it, he stood out from his peers like a sore thumb. Not only was he extremely well built for his age, he exuded an aura of calm and maturity that the other fourteen year olds couldn't possibly hope to match.
He remained still while others fidgeted and whispered, his eyes fixed on the stele at the front, where the Linking would soon take place.
Although he looked calm on the surface, he was also nonetheless feeling a bit anxious within. He had been waiting for this moment all his life, afterall.
'Finally,' he thought, tension coiling in his stomach despite his calm exterior. 'The moment I've been waiting for.'
Elder Lina's voice cut through the air like a blade. "Let the first embrace their destiny! Kira!"
This was it!
This was the fated moment. Would they rise from the ashes like a phoenix or get buried in the endless sea of extras?
A nervous teen named Kira, her hands trembling, stepped forward. She was so scared at this moment she was barely holding back from panicking.
The girl stumbled forward, legs wobbling with each step. Her hand shook as she placed it against the weathered stone.
The moment flesh met ancient rock, everything changed.
White energy seeped from the stele into her body like liquid lightning. Kira gasped, eyes fluttering shut as power coursed through her veins.
Her nervous trembling transformed into something else entirely—a deep, primal response to the force reshaping her very being.
The air thickened. A ball of crackling light formed above the stele, growing larger as electricity danced within its core.
Ares' eyes shone. This was the essence of the origin! It was with this essence that her origin link would be formed!
BOOM!
The brilliant energy exploded outward, enveloping Kira in radiant light. She cried out—not in pain, but in overwhelming sensation as visions flooded her mind. Raging storms. Roaring winds. Blinding lightning!
When the light receded, Kira stood there, breathing heavily but with newfound strength radiating from her very being.
The whole square stared at the silver, circular formation that had formed beneath her feet and hurriedly counted the number of rings.
"One...two...four...five?!"
Numerous gasps resounded. Multiple jaws dropped. Five rings?!
Doesn't that mean...
"Elder Luna!," The village shaman exclaimed, looking as delighted as if he had gotten the five rings and not kira, "she has awakened a B-rank bloodline with a lightning attribute! A powerful lineage, destined for greatness!"
Kira stood taller now, pride replacing fear in her eyes. She traced the mysterious rune that had appeared on her hand, marveling at its intricate design.
More names were called. More fates decided. F-grade disappointments to B-grade prodigies—each awakening brought its own drama.
Elder Luna felt the stele's pressure intensify with every ceremony completed. Each awakening drained more of her strength, but she endured. She had to.
Finally, only one remained.
Her gaze found him in the crowd. When she spoke, her voice carried across the entire square despite the exhaustion threatening to buckle her knees.
"Ares!"
Silence fell like a shroud.
It was time.
-----
Every eye in the village square locked onto him. Admiration. Envy. Barely concealed hostility. Children stared as if he were already a legend. Teenagers clenched their fists, some hoping to witness his failure, others expecting something spectacular.
Ares stepped forward with fluid grace, movements controlled as a flowing river. His calm expression stood in stark contrast to the storm of emotions swirling around him. He didn't acknowledge the whispers or searching stares.
His focus belonged entirely to the stele.
The ancient artifact pulsed with faint light, its dark surface covered in runes that seemed to breathe with the universe itself. Countless warriors had bowed before its judgment throughout history.
Now it was his turn.
He pressed his palm against the smooth, icy surface. Cold seeped into his skin, followed by the overwhelming sensation of vast energy lurking just beneath.
Then—
Nothing.
The stele remained dark. Completely unresponsive.
Murmurs spread through the crowd like wildfire.
"What's happening?"
"Did it reject him?"
"That's impossible!"
The village shaman's face went pale. In his entire lifetime, he had never witnessed anything like this.
And then the world shattered.
Darkness swallowed everything.
Ares blinked, but there was no light, no village, no stele, no sound. One moment he had been standing in the square, and the next, he was nowhere.
It wasn't like closing his eyes in the dead of night; even that had a sense of existence. This? This was absence.
He could neither see nor feel anything; no air, no ground, no sky. It was as if he had been erased from reality itself.
His heartbeat quickened. 'Where am I?'
Before he could process the situation further, a voice emerged from the void, a voice so deep, so ancient, it felt as though it had existed before time itself.
"A broken world, cast in flame,
Where might and right stake their claim.
Against the Ancients we rise and fall,
Only the strongest answers the call."
The words weren't just spoken—they were etched into existence, vibrating through Ares' very bones, shaking his soul to its core.
The weight behind them was suffocating, like an unbreakable truth woven into the fabric of the universe.
And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it ended.
Light exploded into his vision.
Ares gasped as he was yanked back to the village square. His palm still rested against the stele as if no time had passed.
But everything had changed.
The stele erupted with golden radiance.
Not gentle light. Not brilliant flash. This was a newborn sun contained in stone, blinding everyone who dared to look. People cried out, shielding their eyes from the impossible brightness.
A sphere of crackling energy formed, its surface alive with flashes of raw power. The air itself vibrated, reality struggling to contain the force being unleashed.
The golden orb slammed into Ares's forehead.
BOOM!
Every nerve in his body ignited at once. An ocean of power poured into him, rewriting his very existence. His breath hitched as his heartbeat roared in his ears.
Golden circles materialized beneath his feet. One by one, they spread outward until—
"Eight rings!"
The shaman's voice cracked in disbelief. The elder's composure shattered. The crowd lost their collective minds.
"S-rank! Impossible!"
"S-rank bloodlines are almost legendary! Only the royal lineage has them!"
Hysteria swept through the village square. But while everyone celebrated what they thought was the pinnacle of power, Ares stared at something only he could see.
His Origin Scroll.
The rank written there wasn't S-grade. Not even SSS-grade.
One very terrifying word pulsed with golden light…
Divine.
His breath caught in his throat.
The universe had just acknowledged his bloodline as something beyond mortal comprehension.
And somewhere in the void between realities, ancient powers stirred.
The hunt was about to begin.