hapter Two: Era of Magi
Chapter2; Era of magic
Centuries Later
98… 99… 100.
Sabre's arms trembled as he completed the final push-up. His palms burned against the cracked concrete floor of his small apartment, and his breathing came out uneven as he collapsed flat on his back. Sweat rolled down his face, soaking into the faded mat beneath him.
For a brief moment, he simply lay there, staring at the ceiling.
An old fan hung above him, its blades thick with dust and cobwebs. It hadn't moved in years—not since electricity had become obsolete. Sabre exhaled slowly, then forced himself upright, resting his back against the cold wall.
Life in the slums of Iron Citadel was brutal from beginning to end. Survival was never guaranteed—it had to be earned every single day. For Sabre, being parentless only made it worse. He had no memories of family, no one to rely on but himself. Ever since he could remember, he had lived alone, scraping by through low-paying labor and whatever work he could find.
The slums were a place the city preferred to forget.
Towering steel structures loomed overhead, rusted and half-collapsed, blocking out most of the sky. Shadows swallowed entire districts, and the air always carried the scent of oil, smoke, and stale mana residue. In the distance, massive reactors hummed endlessly, their vibrations echoing through the streets.
People here didn't dream.
They endured.
At barely thirteen years old, Sabre had already adapted to that reality. The only things he truly owned were this cramped room—and a katana that looked as though it had survived countless eras. The blade was dull, its sheath worn, yet he maintained it carefully. It held no known power, no legendary origin.
Still, it mattered to him.
"Man… doing a hundred push-ups every day is seriously wearisome," Sabre muttered, rubbing his sore arms.
He sat cross-legged on the floor, letting his breathing steady. The room was quiet, broken only by distant shouts from the streets below and the low hum of machinery. Despite his age, Sabre's body was already lean and hardened. His strength didn't come from cultivation or mana—it came from hardship.
He mixed cement, hauled scrap metal, and fought off street rogues who preyed on the weak. Every scar on his body was a lesson learned the hard way.
Kindness meant nothing in the slums.
Only strength mattered.
Sabre rose to his feet and stretched before glancing toward the small window. Outside, the morning sun struggled through the smog, glowing like a pale ember. Iron Citadel was already awake—a city of ambition and decay, where mana-powered machines roared through narrow streets and the upper districts gleamed far above.
For the slums, though, it was just another day.
He tightened the straps on his worn boots and muttered, "Time-attack mining first… then I'll check my elemental affinity and cultivation potential."
The words felt strange in his mouth.
Sabre didn't hold much hope. In a world divided by talent, being born a Low-Tier was almost a sentence carved in stone. The highest achievement ever recorded for someone of his class was an E-grade affinity—and that person happened to be the mayor's daughter, born with every advantage Sabre lacked.
Still, curiosity burned quietly in his chest.
Even if fate laughed at him, he wanted to know where he stood.
Slipping on a small pack, Sabre slung his katana across his back and stepped outside.
The World Today
Centuries had passed since the catastrophe known as the Red Pulse—the event that reshaped Earth and nearly wiped out humanity. What began as devastation eventually gave rise to a new civilization, one built upon the very force that had almost destroyed it.
The old world had fallen.
In its place, humanity rebuilt using mana.
Traditional technology had collapsed during the chaos, resources exhausted or rendered useless. Left with no alternatives, scientists, mages, and engineers worked together, merging knowledge and power. Thus, the Era of Magic was born.
Electricity faded into history as mana cores replaced conventional energy sources. These crystallized nodes stored and refined mana, powering cities, machines, and homes alike. Where streetlights once stood, glowing blue cores now illuminated the night.
Iron Citadel stood as one of the greatest achievements of this age. Massive mana conduits stretched between towering buildings, pulsing with energy. Mana trams glided along suspended tracks, leaving shimmering trails behind them.
Even the slums bore traces of this new era—discarded mana crystals, broken conduits, fragments of beast gear left behind by soldiers and mercenaries.
Communication had evolved beyond radios and satellites. Humanity now relied on Soul Frequencies, ethereal signals transmitted through spiritual resonance. Each person possessed a unique soul imprint, allowing instant communication across vast distances—secure and nearly impossible to intercept.
Weapons and armor transformed as well. Firearms fired condensed mana bolts instead of bullets. Beast gear, forged from the remains of magical creatures, became standard equipment. Each piece carried remnants of the creature's power, enhancing the wearer's strength and resilience.
Education followed suit.
Children learned cultivation basics alongside history and mathematics. Meditation, elemental control, and mana shaping became mandatory subjects. Exams were no longer written—they were fought, tested through controlled duels.
This was the world Sabre had been born into.
A world where power defined status.
And mana was as essential as air.
Sabre navigated through the slums, weaving between metal shanties and narrow alleys. Vendors shouted, advertising synthetic food and low-grade potions. Above the crowd, a flickering holographic banner caught his attention.
AWAKENING DAY — TEST YOUR ELEMENTAL AFFINITY AND POTENTIAL!
Sponsored by the Iron Citadel Guild
Every young citizen waited years for this moment.
Awakening determined everything—career, income, status. It was the first step toward cultivation, the line separating the powerful from the forgotten.
Sabre stopped, staring at the banner.
He had planned to spend the day mining mana shards. But the pull of the test was strong. Maybe—just maybe—there was a chance he wasn't destined to remain ordinary.
His gaze lifted toward the distant spire of the testing center, glowing with faint runic patterns. For a brief moment, the noise of the slums faded, replaced by a quiet determination rising within him.
Sabre clenched his fists.
"Let's see what fate has in store for me."
And with that, he began to walk—not just toward the testing center, but toward the unknown path waiting beyond it.