Aldric's life had never been kind. He was born without power in a world where power decided everything. His mother was a prostitute who left him in an orphanage without even bothering to look back. The orphanage did not care for him either. To them, he was just another mouth to feed. Eventually, even they sold him away, trading his body for coin like he was no more than livestock.
From that moment onward, Aldric's life moved from one misery to another. As a slave, he suffered endless labor, beatings, and insults. Nobody ever looked at him as human. Even when he finally escaped, the chains of his past seemed to follow him everywhere.
And now, under the cold night sky, beside the flowing river, Aldric lay broken and near death. His body was bruised, bones cracked, and blood leaking from countless wounds. The culprits were a group of young arcanists—proud, powerful, and cruel. He had not provoked them, but that had not mattered. To them, Aldric was a joke. A powerless, weak, ordinary boy. They toyed with him for their own amusement, striking him again and again until his body could not move anymore.
When he finally ran, staggering and bleeding, they did not even bother to chase him. Why would they? His death meant nothing. He had no family, no background, and no strength. If he died, the world would not care.
Lying on the grass, Aldric stared at the sky. The stars blurred in his vision as the life drained from his body. His breaths were shallow, his chest rising and falling weakly. Each breath felt like it could be his last.
"So this is it…" Aldric thought. There was no anger in him, no tears, no last struggle. Just resignation. Fate had dealt him a hand that never allowed him to win. He was powerless, nameless, worthless. What else could he do but accept it?
Slowly, he closed his eyes. Death would be quiet, at least.
But fate did not allow him to leave so peacefully.
On the surface of the river, a small wooden chest drifted along with the current. Its edges were rough, its lock broken, and it looked as if it had traveled a long distance. The current guided it until, by some strange coincidence, it bumped against Aldric's limp palm.
His fingers twitched at the touch. Aldric forced his eyes open. His vision was hazy, but he could see the outline of the box. His weakened body moved almost instinctively, pulling it closer. He had no idea why he bothered—maybe it was simply something to distract him from the endless pain.
The chest was surprisingly light. He lifted it onto his lap and pried it open with trembling fingers.
The moment the lid came off, a rush of energy burst forth.
Aldric's body froze. His eyes widened as a flood of power surged into him, seeping into every vein, every bone, every corner of his soul. The force was overwhelming. It felt as if lightning had struck him, burning away the weakness that had defined his entire existence.
The healing began immediately. His bleeding wounds closed before his eyes. Bruises faded. Broken bones knit themselves together with sharp cracks that made his whole body convulse. He wanted to scream, but his throat only let out hoarse gasps.
It was not just healing. The energy was tearing him apart and remaking him. His muscles stretched and compressed, becoming stronger, denser. His very flesh felt like it was being stripped away and rebuilt again and again. His blood boiled, rushing through his veins with unbearable heat. His soul trembled as if it was being reforged in fire.
The pain was beyond anything he had ever endured. Worse than the beatings. Worse than the chains. Worse than starvation. It was as if he was dying and being reborn, again and again, in the same body.
His fingernails dug into the dirt. His jaw clenched so tightly that his teeth felt like they would shatter. His body shook violently, twitching under the strain of transformation.
And yet, hidden beneath the agony, there was something else. Strength. Raw, undeniable strength. For the first time in his life, Aldric felt what it meant to have power. It was faint at first, just a spark in the darkness. But as the energy continued to pour into him, that spark grew brighter and brighter, until it became a flame that spread through his entire being.
The torment continued without pause. Seconds felt like hours, and minutes stretched endlessly. Aldric lost all sense of time. His mind swayed between consciousness and unconsciousness. But gradually—ever so gradually—the pain began to fade. His body stopped convulsing. His breathing steadied. The burning heat cooled into a steady warmth that flowed through his limbs.
He was different. He could feel it clearly. Stronger. Faster. Sharper. His body no longer felt fragile. His soul no longer felt like a candle about to be snuffed out.
Relief finally came, sudden and heavy. Aldric's body loosened. His chest rose and fell in steady rhythm. His eyes fluttered closed. Not because of death this time, but because of exhaustion.
He had endured something unimaginable. And now, he could not hold on anymore.
Darkness claimed him once again, but this time, it was not the darkness of death. It was the rest of one who had survived.
The river continued to flow, carrying the faint reflection of the stars. Beside it lay Aldric, transformed yet unaware of what he had become.
And thus, the curtain of his old life closed, and the first page of something new began.
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