The town opened itself slowly as I walked away from the market. Cobblestone roads turned into narrow lanes, and narrow lanes opened into small squares filled with chatter. People worked, traded, and argued like in any normal town I might have known, but there was something beneath the surface—something that made every moment feel charged.
I noticed it when a man near a bakery lifted a crate without touching it. The crate slid from a high shelf and landed neatly in his arms. The threads around him tightened for a moment, forming a small loop before relaxing again. He nodded at the baker as if nothing unusual had happened.
He called himself a Holder.
That was the word the townspeople used. A Holder was someone who awakened a single ability. One ability, one type, and nothing more. It was so normal here that no one questioned it.
I watched more as I moved through the streets. A guard made his spear lighter with each swing. A woman closed small wounds with a touch. A young boy calmed an angry dog by placing his palm on its head. Every one of them used only one ability, specific and limited. They all followed the same pattern.
I kept quiet. No one else seemed to see the threads. They glowed and bent and reacted to the Holders' abilities, but the people were blind to them. I understood quickly that thread-vision was not common. It was mine alone.
Eventually, I found an old man sitting on a stone bench beneath a shaded archway. He watched the town with the slow patience of someone who had lived here all his life. When I asked him about Holder abilities, he didn't laugh or dismiss me. Instead, he motioned for me to sit.
"So you want to understand the way power works," he said. "Most children don't ask that until they're older."
"I want to know how strong people can become," I replied.
He nodded. "Then you must learn about the tiers."
He spoke clearly, as if reciting lessons carved long ago.
"Tier 0 is where almost everyone stays. A person awakens one small skill, enough to help with work. Most of our town is Tier 0. You can live a full life with it, and nothing more."
He pointed toward the guard at the corner. "Tier 1 is rare. Reaching it is hard, harder than people admit. In a town like ours, maybe two or three Holders reach Tier 1 in their entire lives. A Tier 1 Holder can fight small beasts or protect a caravan. People look up to them."
His voice grew lower. "Tier 2 is different. It is not the next step. It is a break. A wall. Only a very few in a whole region reach Tier 2. A Tier 2 Holder can fight monsters and survive. Most towns pray for one, but many never get one."
He paused before continuing.
"The tiers go up to Tier 9, but that is not our world. That is for cities with great guilds and old lineages. People say Tier 3 and above can change the course of battles. Tier 6 and Tier 7 can shake kingdoms. Tier 8 and Tier 9… well, those are stories for bards. Not a thing people like us see with our own eyes."
He leaned back, letting the weight of his words settle. For the people of this town, power was distant. Difficult. Almost unreachable.
"You asked if a person can learn more than one ability," he said. "The answer is no. One Holder, one ability. That is the rule. That is how the world stays balanced."
I thanked him quietly and stood. He did not know the truth behind his own explanation. He did not know the threads were real, or that they shaped every ability. He did not know that I could see them. I realized how carefully this world hid its foundation from the people living in it.
But the threads did not hide from me.
As I walked, I studied everything. The threads around each Holder followed a set pattern when they used their ability. A loop for pulling. A wave for healing. A tremor for calming animals. These patterns were the true form of their power. They were the structure underneath everything.
People believed they were bound by one ability. They believed their tier was unchangeable. They believed the world had only one path for each person.
But what I saw with my eyes told me something different.
The threads could move in more shapes than anyone imagined.
If a person could see these shapes…
If they could understand the movement…
If they could adjust them… even a little…
Then the world would not stay the same.
I didn't leap to conclusions. I didn't tell myself grand things. I simply observed. I watched the way the threads reacted to emotion, to stress, to lies, to fear. I memorized every shift and every color. It felt natural, like recognizing a language I had never learned but somehow understood.
I kept it to myself. Some knowledge was too strange to share.
Evening arrived slowly. Shops closed. Voices softened. A bell rang somewhere in the center square. People began stepping out of their homes and walking in the same direction. For a moment I thought it was some kind of festival, but their faces didn't match that idea. They looked tense. Expecting something.
A man bumped past me. "Come on, boy. Council's calling everyone."
"What for?" I asked.
"Something happened outside the walls," he said. "A hunting party sent word earlier. They said monsters were spotted."
Monsters. That word carried weight here.
I followed the flow of the crowd. The town square filled quickly. People whispered, children clung to their parents, and Holders stood ready near the edges. Then a sharp cry came from the road outside the gate.
"Horses! Someone's coming!"
Dust rose in the fading light. A group of riders sped toward the town, their clothes torn and marked with dirt and dried blood. Behind them lay the bodies of strange creatures—dark-furred things with long limbs and too many teeth. People gasped and stepped back.
Then the man at the front dismounted.
He wore a long coat and carried a sword with a quiet purpose. His expression was calm, not proud. His movements were steady, every step deliberate. I watched the threads around him and saw something I had not seen before.
His threads were sharp. Clean. Controlled. Not wild like Tier 0 or Tier 1 Holders. And not scattered like the boy who calmed animals. His threads moved with intent.
He might have been Tier 1. Or maybe Tier 2. I could not be sure yet.
But the town knew him.
Whispers flew.
"He's back."
"He killed them again."
"Bless the Protectors."
The man lifted his sword and set it down gently. He spoke without raising his voice. "The road is clear. The monsters won't bother you tonight. Stay near the gates until morning."
The people breathed out, relieved. Some cheered. Some cried. The man didn't react. He walked toward the council platform, carrying the weight of someone used to danger.