Jin, an eighteen-year-old boy born in the shattered world of Veldera, lived in a place where strength was law and weakness was a curse. In a land carved by monsters and drowned in magic, even the sky itself looked down on the powerless with quiet contempt.
He had lived his whole life in a nameless corner of that world — a forgotten village called Kelo. A place where nothing happened, and everything slowly rotted.
For eighteen years, Jin breathed the dust of that village. And for the last three of them… he breathed it alone.
His parents had died when he was fifteen. Not from monsters. Not from war. But from fire.
The night it happened, he had been in the mountains, climbing the jagged ridges to collect herbs — his only way of earning coin. The climb was steep, the work thankless. But it was something. Something to keep his hands busy while the weight of failure gnawed at his chest.
That was the year he was supposed to awaken.
Fifteen — the age where children of Veldera either bloomed into magic or broke under its silence. His mother, Maria, and his father, Keel, had waited with tense smiles, pretending to be hopeful. But when the day came and passed, and nothing stirred within him — no light, no voice, no system, no strength — their smiles shattered.
The disappointment in their eyes said more than words ever could.
Jin still remembered his little sister's voice that day — Fin, only twelve at the time, eyes wide with innocence, asking him over and over again,
"What power did you get, Jin? What's your awakening? Can I see it?"
He had lied.
"It's a secret," he said, ruffling her hair. "I'll show you… when you awaken too."
She had smiled, not understanding the weight behind his voice. She still believed the world was kind.
She didn't know they weren't allowed to let her leave the house. That their parents had whispered things behind locked doors. That they looked at Jin like a mistake — and at Fin like a fragile gem. Jin never understood why.
He didn't hate his parents.
But he couldn't pretend to love them either.
That day — the last day — started like any other. He climbed the mountain. Picked what herbs he could. Breathed the cold air that made him feel a little more alive.
Then he saw the smoke.
Black. Heavy. Twisting into the sky like a scream that couldn't find a throat.
At first, he didn't think much of it. Fires happened. But when he realized the smoke rose from the same direction as their home, something in his gut snapped.
He ran.
Faster than he ever had.
Down the cliffside. Across the rocky paths. Dirt in his teeth. His heartbeat screaming louder than the wind.
The house was already swallowed by flame when he arrived. The roof had collapsed. The windows glowed orange like the eyes of a dying beast. People stood nearby — staring, whispering, unmoving.
Jin didn't think.
He just heard her.
Fin. Screaming.
He ran straight into the fire. Through smoke. Through heat. Through the scent of burning wood and burning flesh. He found her inside, curled on the floor, coughing blood, her left hand already seared with burns.
He carried her out.
His parents never followed.
The neighbors said there had been an explosion. A loud one. They claimed it came from inside the house. But Jin had been on the mountain, not too far, and he had heard… nothing.
And that silence scared him more than the fire.
Fin cried for hours. Screamed for her mother. Screamed for her father. Jin held her in his arms, silent, hollow, watching the embers eat what was left of his past.
It wasn't until long after the fire had faded that a mage arrived — dressed in deep blue robes, water flowing from his staff like a lazy river. With a flick of his hand, the flames hissed and vanished. Not out of mercy — but for business.
He asked for payment.
Jin offered the only thing he had: a sack of herbs. The mage scoffed but paused. He looked at Jin — really looked at him — and without a word, pulled out a silver disk etched with runes. An artifact.
He pressed it to Jin's chest. It glowed faintly… then died.
No reaction. No affinity. No spark of power.
"You're eighteen?" the mage asked, narrowing his eyes.
Jin nodded, heart heavy with shame.
"And the girl?"
"She's twelve."
The mage fell quiet for a moment. Then, with no explanation, he turned and walked away — muttering something about "missed timing" and "potential signs." Jin stood frozen, clutching his sister, watching the mage vanish down the road toward his distant castle.
He didn't understand.
Why did he ask about Fin?
What did it mean?
Why did it feel like the fire… wasn't an accident?
He didn't have answers. Only silence. Only scars. Only questions that burned louder than the fire that took everything from him.