Stone walls, long since crumbled and overgrown, rose around Alex as he stood in the ruins of an old watchtower deep in the woods. Sunlight speared through breaks in the stone, illuminating motes of dust swirling in the cold morning air. It was quiet here, removed from the rebel camp's whispers and worries—a secluded spot chosen for his training. Alex rubbed his palms together, trying to chase away the chill and his nerves. Only a week ago he had been a college student worrying about exams; now he was about to attempt magic in a world that wanted him dead.
"Clear your mind," Merrick instructed calmly. The older man's voice echoed softly off the stone walls. Merrick was the rebels' resident mage, a grizzled mentor with one milky blind eye and burns on his arms—scars from spells past. He had seen what the Empire's sorcerers could do, and his grim demeanor left little room for nonsense. "Focus on the spark within you. Feel for any warmth in your core."
Alex exhaled slowly and closed his eyes. Spark within me, sure, he thought with a flicker of dry humor. I can barely light a campfire the normal way. He tried to ignore the doubt twisting in his stomach. In his mind, he pictured a tiny flame in a dark void. The concept felt absurdly like a meditation app exercise, except this was no app and failure here had real consequences. Still, he concentrated, searching for any flicker of heat inside himself.
At first, he felt nothing but the bite of the crisp air on his face. Frustration crept in. What if he couldn't do this? Perhaps whoever or whatever brought him here had made a mistake.
Teeth clenched, Alex pushed the negative thoughts aside. He remembered the smoldering village ruins they passed on their journey here—the charred beams and the acrid smell of death, courtesy of the Empire's brutality. A spark of anger ignited in his chest at the memory. He seized that feeling, molding his will around it.
Heat blossomed in his core, faint but growing. Alex's eyes snapped open as warmth flowed down his arm. A small tongue of flame wavered into being, dancing just above his open palm. "I… I did it," he whispered, half in awe. The flame's light painted flickering orange across his wide-eyed face and the stone floor. For an instant, excitement surged in him—power, his power, flickered to life at his command.
"Good, now hold it steady," Merrick said sharply, though Alex could hear a note of surprise under the controlled tone. The old mage stepped closer, the reflection of the fire glinting in his good eye. Alex tried to focus, willing the trembling flame to stay alive. It quivered erratically, fed by his unsteady emotions. His heart pounded; each thud sent a tremor through the nascent fire. The warmth was turning hot, too hot, against his skin.
The flame in Alex's hand suddenly flared, doubling in size in the blink of an eye. Startled, he stumbled a half-step back. The fire, responding to his lapse in control, leapt from his palm in a wild arc. Whoosh! The orange blaze licked upward, nearly catching the low-hanging tendrils of ivy clinging to the ruin's walls. Alex's pulse spiked in alarm. He hadn't meant to let it loose.
Merrick reacted instantly. He thrust out his own hand and spoke a terse word of power. A surge of cool air swirled around them. The gust collided with the flames, smothering and dispersing them into trails of smoke. Alex coughed as the burnt smell hit his lungs. His hand was empty now, faintly singed but unhurt. He stared at his fingers, which still tingled from the magic coursing through them.
"Control, Alex," Merrick muttered, lowering his hand. Despite his harsh tone, relief softened the lines of the old mage's face. "You're lucky I contained that. You could have set the whole forest ablaze."
Alex managed a shaky laugh, more out of relief than humor. "Heh, at least we know I won't need a lighter if we run out of firewood," he quipped, flexing his fingers. His attempt at dry humor earned a raised eyebrow from Merrick. The corners of the mage's mouth twitched, almost forming a wry smile before his usual stern expression returned.
Another voice called from the edge of the ruins. "Everything alright in there?" It was Lira, a young rebel scout who had escorted Alex and Merrick to this practice site. She hovered by a crumbling archway, hand on the hilt of her dagger, just in case the commotion drew unwanted attention.
"We're fine," Merrick replied, casting a glance at the wisps of smoke dissipating above. "Our friend here just got a little enthusiastic."
Alex's cheeks warmed — not just from the recent flames. He gave Lira a thumbs-up to show he was okay. The scout nodded and relaxed her stance, though her eyes still flickered with concern. Satisfied that no one was hurt, Lira stepped back outside to keep watch, leaving Alex alone again with the mage.
As the adrenaline of the moment ebbed, Alex felt a sudden wave of exhaustion wash over him. His legs trembled, and he braced a hand against a mossy stone wall to steady himself. "Is it… always that tiring?" he asked, voice unsteady. He hadn't expected a simple flicker of flame to sap his strength so much. A dull ache was forming behind his eyes.
Merrick nodded knowingly. "The first time is always rough. You've just touched a force bigger than yourself. Your body needs to adjust." He placed a reassuring hand on Alex's shoulder. "Rest a moment. You did well for a first try. Many apprentices can barely spark a candle flame their first month."
Alex tried to smile at the encouragement, but his mind was elsewhere. A strange sensation was buzzing faintly at the back of his mind, like an unheard whisper. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, which suddenly seemed to have trouble focusing. The air in front of him shimmered.
He froze. Floating before him, semi-transparent and humming with unseen power, was a panel of light filled with softly glowing text. Alex's heart skipped a beat. He glanced around—Merrick was busy gathering their satchels, not paying attention. Lira was outside, out of view. Neither gave any sign of seeing what he saw.
Alex swallowed and turned back to the phantom panel before him. The text on it was in crisp, luminescent letters, written in a language he somehow understood instinctively. His hands shook as he read the words silently:
Elemental System Activated
New Affinity Discovered: Fire
Skill Unlocked: Ember Spark (Novice)
His breath caught in his throat. System…? This was like a screen out of a game, the kind he used to play back on Earth, now manifesting here in reality. The words pulsed softly as if awaiting his acknowledgment. Alex cautiously reached out a finger, hovering it over the glowing panel. There was no tangible surface, just warm light. As his finger passed through the text, ripples spread across the panel like water disturbed by a pebble.
He half-expected the display to vanish, but it remained, now showing new lines as his thoughts raced:
User: Alex
Level: 1
Status: Healthy – Mana Exhaustion (Mild)
Affinity: Fire (Awakened)
Alex had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from yelping in astonishment. Mana exhaustion? Affinity? It was confirming what he'd just done, like some sort of personal progress report. He quickly flicked his eyes toward Merrick—still oblivious, thank goodness.
A hundred questions blazed through Alex's mind. Why could he see this? Did crossing worlds give him a personal System, or was this something the world itself bestowed on him for using magic? If it was normal here, surely Merrick or Lira would have mentioned glowing game-like screens. But they'd looked at him like he was just catching his breath.
He clenched his fists to stop his hands from trembling. The phantom screen faded gently until it disappeared, as if responding to his internal caution. Alex inhaled deeply, trying to steady the whirlwind inside him. Whatever this Elemental System was, it had chosen now to appear. And it seemed tied to his awakening magic.
"Alex?" Merrick's voice broke through his thoughts. The mage had noticed his silent daze. "Are you feeling alright?"
Alex forced a faint smile and pushed himself to stand up straight. "Yeah," he lied, still dazed. "Just… a bit lightheaded. You were right, the first time takes a lot out of you."
Merrick studied him for a moment, then handed Alex a canteen. "Here. Water. Small sips."
Alex accepted it gratefully and took a drink, the cool water helping to ground him in the present. He decided against mentioning the glowing text—at least not until he understood it himself. "Thanks," he murmured.
Merrick gave a curt nod. "We'll end here for today. You should rest. But Alex," he paused, ensuring the young man met his gaze, "what you did just now… that was only the beginning. You have a gift—one we scarcely understand. Treat it with respect. Train hard. This world will not be kind to an unskilled mage, especially not one of us."
There was no mistaking the gravity in the mage's tone. Alex felt the weight of the words. He recalled how powerless he felt watching the Empire's atrocities. Now he had a spark of power of his own. A gift… or maybe a curse, he mused, thinking of the mysterious System lingering at the edge of his vision.
"I will," Alex promised quietly. Drying sweat and lingering adrenaline made him shiver as he stepped out of the ruined tower into the gray morning light. In the distance, beyond the misty tree line, lay the vast lands ruled by the Empire. The very air seemed to carry its oppressive weight even here. Alex's hand unconsciously tightened around the warm stone of the tower doorway as he looked out.
This world was brutal and filled with secrets—some now rooted within him. Alex didn't know why fate had led him from a quiet Earth life into this darkness, but one thing was certain: he couldn't turn back. With rebels at his side, a flame awakened in his soul, and a mysterious System guiding his growth, he would face whatever the Empire—and this uncanny world—threw at him. The spark had been lit; an uprising, like a single candle in a sea of night, had begun within him.