As Vaden entered the dimly lit room, he quickly took in the sight of three teenage boys who appeared to have stepped from the very shadows surrounding them. They wore matching black attire that clung to their lean frames, giving them an almost ghostly appearance. Each boy shared a similar air of stoicism, their faces expressionless as if they had long forgotten the warmth of genuine emotion.
Lucan was the tall one with sharp features and piercing gray eyes that seemed to scrutinize everything and everyone. His hair was jet black and tousled, adding to his brooding aura.
Kent was more robust, with a slightly muscular build—his dark brown hair cropped short and his face marred by a couple of faded scars. His brow often furrowed, as if he were constantly wrestling with darker thoughts.
Blake was the shortest of the trio, but his presence was not diminished by his stature. He had curly dark hair that framed his face in wild disarray, and his sea-green eyes held a hint of mischief—a stark contrast to the somberness of the room.
Vaden, however, felt like a ghost himself. His once-white hair was matted and filthy, clinging to his forehead and shoulders with traces of blood and grime. His skin bore bruises and scratches, remnants of the path he had traveled to arrive here. He had a thin build, a result of malnutrition during his struggles, which made him look even more vulnerable in this environment.
After exchanging introductions, the man who had led Vaden here issued his instruction to wash up. He hurried to the bathing area, desperate to shed the filth that clung to him, physically and metaphorically.
Once he returned, freshly washed and in the dark clothes handed to him, he joined the man again as they proceeded to a testing area filled with other students, each seated and awaiting their assessments. The atmosphere was thick with tension, and Vaden could sense the unease radiating from the others, underscoring their collective predicament.
In the testing area, the process began. Vaden watched as other students were called forth, subjected to various evaluations, hushed conversations filling the air. When it was finally his turn, he was led to a circular table at the center of the room, where a crystal orb sat ominously awaiting him.
The man guiding him instructed him to place his hand on the orb. Vaden hesitated but then complied, pressing his palm against its cool surface. The orb flickered to life, illuminating the dim room before suddenly turning pitch black, absorbing all light around it.
"Ah, darkness element, although the amount of mana you have is a little below average" the man declared, his tone clinical and detached, as if he were merely reporting a fact rather than revealing a potential threat.
Vaden's mind raced, confusion swirling within him. He didn't feel any dark energy; rather, there was a clash of sensations—a feeling that something profound resided beneath the surface. Given the knowledge of his past, he couldn't shake the thought of what that label—darkness—implied.
Memories surged back—vivid flashes of his life beginning with the moment his father, Taylor, had discovered something alarming: Vaden's mana channels were abnormal. It was a revelation that had rocked their family and set their lives on a relentless path.
Taylor was runesmith, had dedicated his life to crafting magical instruments. In the aftermath of the early wars among different races, runesmiths like him had been instrumental in inventing incredible devices—mana guns, automobiles, planes—each a beacon of hope for society. However, none of these inventions were as personal as the journey Taylor would undertake for his son.
Vaden recalled how, when he was just 2 years old, Taylor had realized that his son was in desperate need of a specific mana source to prevent his death. No matter how much mana he infused into Vaden's system, his body could only absorb a tiny fraction. This reality propelled Taylor on a perilous quest, leaving Vaden with his mother, Sarah, while he ventured into the uncharted lands.
When Taylor returned after six long months, he was forever changed. The toll of his journey was evident—he had lost his left arm, injuries that served as reminders of the dangers he had faced. Vaden remembered the shock and concern that crossed his mother's face as Taylor recounted his expedition.
Yet, amid the despair, there had been a glimmer of hope. Taylor revealed the dark rift he had found during his travels. It was a small opening that pulsed with unknown energy, and he believed it might hold the key to helping his son live a longer life.
After months of research and experimentation, Taylor had finally devised a plan to enable his son Vaden to absorb mana from the chaotic rift, a source both alluring and perilous. Armed with a collection of ancient runes he had meticulously gathered over the years, he created a set of intricate sigils that would act as conduits, channeling the tumultuous energy of the rift into Vaden's fragile body. With Vaden seated comfortably before him, Taylor activated the runic array, the symbols glowing faintly as they pulsed with energy. He held his breath, focusing intently on syncing Vaden's fluctuating mana channels with the rift's chaotic pulse. As Vaden's tiny fingers hovered just above the rift's edge, Taylor whispered an incantation, harmonizing the wild mana flow to match his son's rhythm. The moment Vaden's essence touched the rift, a brilliant flash enveloped them, filling the air with crackling energy. Taylor watched in awe and trepidation as tendrils of vibrant, chaotic mana spiraled toward Vaden, filling him with the essence needed to sustain his life and awaken the dormant potential within him.
Yet, as the rift's energy surged, Taylor felt an unsettling emptiness within himself. He realized that his own mana channels, marred by years of strain from his earlier injuries, could no longer accept the rift's volatile energy. Though he had meticulously crafted the runes to ensure Vaden's safety, he could not share in the absorbing process himself. Instead, he became a watchful guardian, grounding the connection between his son and the chaotic source. The overwhelming rush of mana poured into Vaden, illuminating the boy's features and shifting the very air around them, while Taylor's heart ached with the bittersweet realization that he could only witness the miraculous transformation he had facilitated. In that moment, he understood that his sacrifice lay not in the mana absorbed, but in the lengths he was willing to go to empower his son—a bond forged in love and desperation, igniting a potential that would shine brighter than any flicker of loss.
"Look, Vaden! You're going to be alright now!" Taylor exclaimed, his face lit with a wide smile, a joy that softened the haunting lines of worry etched into his brow. In that moment, Vaden felt a flicker of hope—a belief that perhaps he could be cured of the ailments that had plagued him from birth.
Yet that hope was short-lived. Just as quickly as the elation had surged through Taylor, the rift had closed abruptly, the ground shaking beneath them. An earthquake had rattled the land, a violent reminder of the instability of the forces they were dealing with. Taylor had quickly gathered Vaden in his arms and made their escape through the mana gate he had constructed, hurrying them back home.