The beeping of the monitor was the first thing that returned to Kael. A monotonous, metallic sound, reminding him of something as human as the pounding inside his own head. He forced his eyes open: the white hospital ceiling, the cold light, the smell of disinfectant. Every breath hurt; a sharp stab in his ribs warned him that not everything had been a dream.
Before he thought of the room, his mind returned to where it always went when the world felt too narrow: his childhood. Images came in waves, clear and painful.
He remembered the Awakening Crystal, the line of trembling children, the window that appeared above his hand with the words that branded his life:
[Name: Kael Ardent]
[Age: 5]
[Mana: 1]
The murmur of the adults: "One mana." The way doors closed a little more whenever someone spoke that number. The games that ended with stones thrown at his back. The dinner where his father lowered his gaze and, in private, repeated with a broken voice: "I'm sorry, son… I condemned you to this." That apology never erased anything, only carried forward a guilt passed down from generation to generation.
He thought of the years that followed: jobs rejected, school turning into a courtyard of knives, the promise he had made to Jule the night they married —"I will make sure our blood doesn't perish in poverty"— and the shame it cost him to admit even to her. His father, who had also borne one mana, had asked forgiveness many times; not for being born, but for never knowing how to break the curse.
Those memories stung like splinters. Kael let them wash over him, breathing slowly. He tried to sort his thoughts: the life he had carried, Jule who chose him despite it all, the children who grew under the shadow of his number. It was a daily weight he had learned to bear.
When he opened his eyes again, the hospital room was calm. A nurse checked a chart. Outside, the world must have been chaos after the rupture, but inside there was an odd truce. Kael felt that calm like a stolen luxury.
A step at the doorway startled him: the doctor who had treated him the night before entered with a folder.
—Mr. Ardent —he said with professional tone but with a note of relief—. You're stable. Very lucky. There were severe injuries from the rupture, but you arrived in a condition we could stabilize.
Kael swallowed, and the habitual question burst in his throat.
—The children? —it was the only thing he managed. The word "children" carried a shapeless fear.
—They're out of danger. In observation for shock, but they're fine. Your wife is with them now —the doctor answered—. Gather your strength. We'll discharge you as soon as the beds allow, there are many wounded.
Relief loosened his legs. He leaned back and for a moment guilt mingled with gratitude. Then, as always, practical worry rose: the bills, the procedure, the money Jule and he didn't have. Kael clenched his fist under the sheet.
—This is going to cost us a fortune —he muttered to himself, with a dry laugh that never reached humor—. We'll fix it later.
While the doctor spoke of painkillers and follow-ups, Kael allowed himself a moment of silence inside. Then something flickered in the air before him, subtle, like a reflection over water. A translucent window appeared, suspended above the sheets. Not physical: it looked like an interface, a panel only he could see.
[User Status]
Name: Kael Ardent
Age: 32
Level: 1
Vitality: 10
Strength: 10
Endurance: 10
Dexterity: 10
Perception: 10
Intelligence: 10
Willpower: 10
Mana: —
The panel displayed plain numbers, almost insultingly basic; a "common" human at level one. But it was the mana line that stopped him: instead of a bar or a number, there was a dash. Empty. Absent.
Kael felt the world slow down. A thought struck violently: This shouldn't be showing. Complete stats only appear when someone unlocks their lineage. Unless… The phrase "unless" hung in his throat.
And then, as if the interface could read his pulse, a new section unfolded under his name. The text spread before him with solemn calm.
[Awakened Lineage: The Lawbreaker]
Description: In the instant the bearer defies the fate imposed upon him and breaks the chains that condemned him, the lineage awakens. The user's will has shattered the laws that governed his existence, erasing forever the sentence of one mana. The bearer is no longer bound by the limitation of a mana bar, for his essence has transcended the established rules. Where there were chains, now lies freedom; where there was condemnation, a path without precedent now opens.
Known Effects:– The limit of mana no longer exists: the bar has vanished because no number can bind it.– He can adapt and transform any technique, skill, or affinity to his own will, rewriting its essence.– The fate imposed upon him no longer governs him; instead, his will dictates the path.– The Ardent curse —the lineage damned to one mana— has been erased.
Kael read once, twice, three times. The words echoed in his mind. Curse erased. Not bound by the mana bar. Will as the trigger. Each line raised more questions than answers.
—Lineage? —he whispered to himself, more than to the doctor—. Me…?
His mind leapt between images: the rift, the chain-whip in his hand, his children screaming, the point-blank strike, and that final second when, fading, he felt a push rising from within. That the will to protect had triggered it? He thought of the phrase tattooed by survival: If I stand still, they die. It had meant more than courage; it had been the trigger.
His father's face returned with force: the apology that never erased shame, and now a different question—what flaw in a life still carried something so powerful?
Before he could sort his thoughts, the door swung open. Jule entered. Her face bore exhaustion and fresh tears, but on seeing him it transformed: relief, disbelief, gratitude.
Behind her appeared Selene, Lyra, and Eryx, staggering, dust still clinging, eyes wide with fear. Selene was the first to throw herself to his side, pressing her face to his chest; Lyra, ever the strong-tempered, dropped onto the bed with clenched hands; Eryx, more withdrawn, lingered at the edge, holding his mother's hand.
—Dad —Selene whispered, her voice breaking.
Kael held her as if he were holding onto life itself. Jule leaned down, pressed her forehead against his, and breathed deeply.
—We need you —she murmured.
He wanted to say everything. To cry out that something inside him was no longer the curse they had carried all these years. To explain that the window had declared his lineage awakened. To show them the list of attributes and ask if, somehow, it justified the nights without bread and the ridicule that scarred them all.
He said nothing. He stayed silent. He still lacked understanding, lacked proof better than a text that appeared like a miracle in a hospital room. And more than that—the idea of unleashing such a revelation before his children and Jule, without knowing its reach, felt like betrayal. How could he explain that what had cursed them might now be the key to their freedom?
—Rest now —Jule said softly—. The doctor said you'll be discharged soon. They're treating so many people —she added practically, trying to smile—. We'll need to prepare the house. Don't worry about the bills… we'll figure it out.
Kael wanted to believe her. At the same time, his brain, still trapped in survival's rhythm, was already tallying: the medicines, the treatments, the days without work. Survival mingled with the epicness of revelation.
While his family spoke with the doctor about when they could take him home, Kael allowed himself a thought more intimate, almost a whispered vow.
If this is real, if this lineage grants me what others do not, then I won't expose it blindly. First I'll learn. First I'll understand. Then… I'll protect my own.
Before closing his eyes, he noticed something else: the discharge he unleashed in the courtyard hadn't left him exhausted —he didn't feel that hollow emptiness hunters described when drained of mana—. What he felt was the usual strain of those who pushed past their limits without the right equipment: numbness, heaviness in the body, the ache of having demanded too much of his muscles. He now understood that if he wanted to use that power again, or at least at that level, he would need equipment capable of absorbing that strain for him.
The room grew quiet, the small family gathering in truce. Kael closed his eyes and, for the first time since the word "one" had branded his life, he let a sliver of hope settle inside. Not relief, not triumph; something harder: a responsibility arriving with its own name. The Lawbreaker had not only saved others; it had marked him for something greater.
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The beeping continued, faithful and relentless. Somewhere in the city, life was beginning to rebuild among the ruins. Kael drew a deep breath and, in a voice low, almost to himself:
—Then… let's begin.