The whisper about the Crimson Hand lingered in Elian's mind like a half-remembered dream. "They seek those with potential…" What did it mean? Who were they? And why were they interested in potential? He had so many questions, but no way to find answers. He was trapped in his crib, surrounded by infants and indifferent caregivers, his only source of information the fragmented whispers that occasionally drifted through the orphanage.
He spent the next few days trying to glean more information about the Crimson Hand. He focused on the whispers, trying to isolate any mention of them. He listened to the conversations of the caregivers, hoping to overhear something relevant. He even tried to probe Martha's mind, cautiously, gently, but she seemed oblivious to the existence of any such organization.
His efforts were met with frustration. The whispers were vague, offering tantalizing hints but no concrete details. The caregivers, focused on their mundane tasks, seemed unaware of anything beyond the walls of the orphanage. And Martha, bless her kind heart, was more concerned with feeding hungry infants and changing soiled diapers than with secret societies.
Elian was starting to lose hope when a new whisper reached him, clearer than any before: "The Crimson Hand… a hidden path… a chance for those who are different…"
A hidden path? A chance for those who are different? What did that mean? Was the Crimson Hand some kind of secret society for mages? A refuge for those with extraordinary abilities? The possibility sent a thrill through him. He had always felt different, set apart from the other children, even the other infants. He had a secret, a power that he couldn't share, a destiny that he didn't fully understand. Perhaps the Crimson Hand held the key to unlocking his potential, to finding his place in this world.
But how could he contact them? How could he let them know he existed? He was just a baby, trapped in a crib. He couldn't exactly send them a message or call them on the phone.
He thought of his magic, his ability to edit. Could he use it to somehow signal them? He focused on his Talent Assessment window, exploring its options. He had learned a lot in the past few weeks, experimenting with different materials and energy types. He had even managed to create a few simple objects – a small wooden box to store his metallic sphere, a cloth pouch to hold a few pebbles he had found under his mattress (he wasn't sure why, but he felt compelled to collect them), and a crude doll made of scraps of fabric.
He had also been practicing his energy manipulation. He had learned to draw small amounts of Material Energy from the objects around him, replenishing his reserves without needing to "borrow" from others. He had even managed to make the oil lamp flame flicker slightly, a small but significant step towards controlling Fire Elemental Energy.
But none of these skills seemed applicable to contacting the Crimson Hand. He needed something more, something… unique.
He thought of the whispers again. "They seek those with potential…" Potential. What did that mean? Was it simply a matter of Talent? Or was there something more?
He focused on his own Talent Assessment.
[Talent Assessment: F-Rank]
[Potential: Locked]
[Magic Affinity: 50]
[Energy Reserves: 80/100]
He looked at the "Potential: Locked" line. He had been trying to unlock it, to figure out how to increase his Talent. He had experimented with different forms of energy, trying to find a way to boost his abilities. But nothing seemed to work.
He was starting to think that unlocking his potential was tied to something more than just energy manipulation. Perhaps it was related to his understanding of the Weave, his ability to connect with its deeper currents. Perhaps it was about something more… intangible… like willpower, or determination, or even… belief.
He thought of the Crimson Hand again. "A hidden path… a chance for those who are different…" Perhaps believing in them, believing in the possibility of a different path, was the key.
He closed his eyes, focusing his mind. He imagined the Crimson Hand, a symbol of hope, a beacon in the darkness. He imagined himself reaching out to them, sending a signal, a plea for guidance.
He felt a surge of energy within him, a power he had never felt before. It was like a dam breaking, a flood of potential unleashed. He opened his eyes, and the world seemed to shimmer around him.
The blue window of his Talent Assessment flickered, then changed.
[Talent Assessment: E-Rank]
[Potential: Partially Unlocked]
[Magic Affinity: 60]
[Energy Reserves: 100/100]
He had done it! He had unlocked a portion of his potential, simply by believing. He felt a surge of exhilaration, a sense of possibility. He was no longer just an F-rank infant, trapped in a crib. He was something more. He was on his way.
And then, he saw it. A faint, crimson glow emanating from the wall of the orphanage, a symbol, a handprint, glowing like a beacon in the darkness.
The Crimson Hand had answered his call.