Ian Mystic System
"You're back!" Elara sprang from the wooden bench near the door as her brother stepped inside, bruised and bleeding. "Caelum, what happened this time?" she gasped, rushing to his side.
Caelum Solis, a lean young man with tousled brown hair and piercing blue eyes, winced as he slumped into a chair. "Nothing new. Just a couple of thugs who wanted my coin more than I did," he muttered.
They lived alone—just the two of them. He was all she had left, and she was the reason he kept going. Though he’d trained enough to pass the Guild’s physicals, his damaged mana core had left him stranded at F-rank, doing odd jobs no real adventurer wanted. Finding lost pets. Cleaning stables. Picking herbs. Barely scraping by.
Elara, though gifted, suffered from a mana sickness that slowly stole her sight. Her treatment was expensive, and Caelum pushed himself to the brink just to afford the basics. Still, it was never enough.
That night, as he tucked her into bed, he whispered, “Tomorrow, I’ll change everything.”
---
At the edge of a newly discovered dungeon, Caelum stood behind a party of stronger adventurers. They snickered.
“Dead weight’s here,” one said under his breath.
He ignored them. He always did.
Darius Flint, the B-ranked leader, raised a hand. “Standard sweep. It’s marked D-rank, but stay alert.”
They entered the cave-like dungeon, and at first, everything was simple. Feral goblins. Weak beasts. The team barely broke a sweat. Caelum trailed behind, hauling gear. Only one person treated him kindly—Arianne Vale, a C-ranked healer with silver hair and a sharp tongue for bullies.
Hours passed. Then the dungeon began to tremble.
“Is it collapsing?” someone asked.
“No... it’s shifting,” Darius muttered. “Stay close.”
Then came the roar—deep, guttural, wrong. Darius's face paled.
“Retreat! Everyone fall back!”
But the floor gave way.
They dropped into a massive chamber ringed with statues holding weapons. In the center, blazing with living fire, was the Pyroclasm—a beast of flame and fury. People panicked. Two adventurers made a break for the exit and were instantly decapitated by the animated statues.
“Form a circle!” Darius barked, but chaos had already taken hold.
A statue lunged. Caelum grabbed Arianne and dove aside. “Behind us!” he shouted.
Adventurers were being cut down left and right. Desperate, Caelum yelled, “Run toward the Pyroclasm!”
“Are you insane?” someone cried.
“We’ll die either way!”
Dragging Arianne, he sprinted forward. The Pyroclasm shrieked and surged toward him—then vanished into him.
Caelum screamed as fire tore through his veins. His body writhed, burning... then exploded in a shockwave. The statues faltered.
“Flame adaptation: mastered.”
He rose. Flames clung to him like armor. Statues charged. He raised his hand—and fire answered. Explosions. Destruction.
“Golems destroyed. Leveling up.”
As silence fell, he collapsed, still smoldering.
“Heal him!” Darius shouted.
Arianne was already by his side.
