The night was quiet but not peaceful. Rain tapped lightly against the alley's worn brick walls. Kenovar sat hunched beneath a crumbling overhang, his breath fogging in the air as he held the broken watch in his palm. It barely ticked anymore. The glass was cracked, and the golden edges dulled with time. But this watch meant everything to him. It was a gift from a man he barely remembered now—his father. The memory was blurry, faded like something pulled from a half-forgotten dream. His mother used to polish it every week, whispering things to herself that never made sense to him back then.
He turned the watch over, tapping it gently like he had done countless times before, hoping it would just... work. Just once. Just for him.
Then something did.
A flicker, a hum. A faint glow from the cracks. Then a message blinked into his vision, not on the watch, but in front of his very eyes—floating in the air like light born from nothing.
System Initiating...
He jerked back. His pulse spiked.
Initiated. Welcome to Magic Interface.
His eyes widened. He blinked. The words were still there. A system. Magic. Was this a joke?
Name: Kenovar Hawke
Birthdate: 8th June 1862
Title: The Innocent Eclipse
That final line made his blood run cold. The name, the one thing his mother always whispered about when she thought he was asleep. Something about how every child born during the Shadow Eclipse turned dark, except... for him. She used to mutter that prophecy over and over again, like it was a puzzle she couldn't solve. Seven haunting lines that didn't rhyme but still sang like a curse.
He remembered her voice now. Quiet, tired, but firm. Like she believed every word.
"When shadows swallow twin-born light,
A child shall rise, untouched by flame.
Born of eclipse, yet heart unstained,
He walks in silence, feared by name.
No magic stirs within his veins,
Yet fate shall kneel before his will.
The Innocent Eclipse shall break the chain..."
Ken stared at the glowing words floating in the dark. He was that child. The Innocent Eclipse.
But why him? What did it even mean?
Before he could spiral further into the memory, the system blinked again, replacing the welcome screen.
Warning: Critical Magic Training Required
Reason: No magical pathways detected. Activation needed.
Ken's heart sank, he almost got the tears back. Of course. He didn't have magic. That was the whole point. Jack Spencer and his friends made sure he never forgot it. They beat it into him every day. No spark. No power. Just a hollow, broken Hawke.
Still, he couldn't look away from the screen.
Begin Training: Pronounce Activation Words
Note: Magic words are unstructured. No meaning. Focus on repetition.
A string of symbols appeared in front of him. They didn't look like words. They looked like noise—scrambled letters, some curved, some sharp, none of them human. He tried to sound them out.
"Rahalz… fen'ta... voh-kai... shenlor..."
He stumbled over them, barely whispering at first. His tongue tripped over each one. They didn't roll off the mouth. They clashed and stung and twisted. Still, he muttered them, again and again.
The system pulsed on his watch
Repeat the word set 1000 times. Do not mumble. Focus on vocal memory.
Ken blinked in disbelief. A thousand times? That was insane. His throat already hurt. But he wasn't going to stop. Not now.
He sat up straighter, pulled his coat around him tighter, and began again. One word at a time. Hour after hour. His voice cracked. His lips dried. His mind wandered, but he forced it back. Every repetition drilled the nonsense words deeper into his brain.
He thought of Jack. Jack laughing. Jack kicked him. Jack calling him useless. Jack spitting on the name Hawke.
That gave him fuel.
By the nine-hundredth repetition, his voice was hoarse. By the nine-hundred-and-ninetieth, he had the rhythm memorized. By the thousandth, he spoke them like a melody.
The system didn't respond right away. His shoulders slumped.
Then the message changed.
Good. Now speak the words clearly. With intent.
Ken took a breath.
He didn't just speak this time. He poured every ounce of focus into the syllables, shaping each one exactly as he had heard it in his mind.
"Rahalz fen'ta voh-kai shenlor..."
The moment he finished, the air in front of him shimmered. He felt a pulse. A warmth in his palm. Then—
A spark.
Tiny. Flickering. But real.
Right above his hand, a wisp of flame hovered, dancing like it had a mind of its own. It was no bigger than a candle's flame, but it was his.
Ken gasped. His lips trembled. For the first time in years, tears filled his eyes. Not from pain. Not from grief.
From happiness.
He laughed, then coughed, then laughed again. "I did it... I did it!"
He looked up at the system, wiping his sleeve across his face.
"Jack Spencer," he whispered, almost giddy, "You can go rot."
He turned back to the floating screen.
Basic Spell Set Unlocked
— Spark (Fire)
— Ember Palm (Heat)
— Shield (Defensive Barrier)
— Veil (Light Cloak)
— Flicker (Short Range Evade)
— Focus (Enhance Vision)
— Heal Pulse (Minor Self-Heal)
Seven spells.
Ken scrolled through each one with wonder, selecting them one at a time. The descriptions were simple, but the possibilities were endless. It was like opening a door he had never even known existed.
For the first time, he wasn't powerless.
He had a system. A chance. A beginning.
The night felt warmer now, even though the rain still drizzled and the alley was as cold as ever.
He leaned back against the wall, eyes closed, letting the weight of the moment settle. A small smile stayed on his face.
Then something nagged at him. A question. One that had been bubbling under the surface ever since the name "Innocent Eclipse" appeared.
"What... what am I, really?" he whispered.
The system pulsed.
Error: Cannot Answer This Query
Ken sat up.
"What? Why not?"
The screen didn't change. The error remained.
He stared for a while. Confused. A little disturbed. Like the system knew something but wouldn't tell him. Something about who he was. Something about what was coming.
He didn't push it further. Not tonight.
He let the question hang there in the dark.
Then he remembered. Tomorrow. Court at 9.
The reminder was a punch in the gut. The bruises still hadn't healed. The officers probably wanted answers. Maybe even apologies. As if he'd done something wrong.
He stood up slowly, pocketed the watch, and took one last look at the flickering flame still dancing in his hand.
It faded, but his heart still burned.
Kenovar Hawke wasn't nothing anymore.
Not after tonight.