With a sharp gasp, the boy's eyes flew open, his chest rising as he bolted upright, heart pounding from a 'dream' he couldn't quite remember. The room around him felt strange, unfamiliar, but also oddly comforting. It wasn't like any hospital room or sterile environment he had ever known. No sterile white walls, no rhythmic beeping of machines—nothing to anchor him in the clinical certainty he was used to. Instead, the walls were adorned with delicate runes etched into the wood, pulsing softly with some kind of magical energy. The air smelled faintly of pine and something else he couldn't quite identify—herbs, perhaps? For someone with a background in science, he had never encountered a plant quite like this—an anomaly so striking it stirred a deep, almost childlike curiosity within him..
He blinked slowly, his senses adjusting to the unfamiliar calm that surrounded him. Gentle, golden light filtered through an open window, mingling with the pale blue glow of early morning—or was it twilight?—casting shifting patterns across the wooden beams of the ceiling above. The timber, aged and weathered, bore the quiet elegance of a place long lived-in, its imperfections softened by time. The interplay of light and shadow gave everything an ethereal, almost dreamlike quality, as if he were suspended in a space between waking and sleep.
A soft breeze drifted through the open window, carrying with it the faint scent of pine and something floral he couldn't quite place. It swept lightly across his skin, cool and invigorating, chasing away the last remnants of disorientation. He could hear the distant rustle of leaves, the occasional birdsong—natural sounds, untainted by the hum of machines or the sterile buzz of electricity.
There were no glaring lights. No whitewashed walls. No mechanical beeping charting the rhythm of his heartbeat. Instead, there was only stillness, broken gently by the whispers of the outside world. It felt foreign, yet comforting. As if nature itself had wrapped around this place, holding it close, shielding it from the noise and pace of the life he remembered.
It was as if the world had paused—had conspired, somehow, to welcome him back not just to consciousness, but to something older, quieter, and far more profound.
But the questions were still there, swirling in his mind like a whirlwind. Where was he? What had happened?
The boy reached up, his fingers trembling slightly as they brushed against his face. His hair was dark, messy, with a faint blue sheen to it. His skin was pale, but not unnaturally so, and his eyes… His silver eyes stared back at him from the reflection in the mirror across the room. They weren't the same eyes he remembered from his past life. These were brighter, with a strange luminescence that seemed to shimmer beneath the surface.
"Ren Kai," he whispered to himself, testing the name that surfaced in his mind. The name of the boy whose body he now occupied.
The memories were fragmented, like data corrupted beyond recovery. He couldn't remember the exact moment of his death—just an overwhelming stillness, a silence too complete. But he remembered the life before it. The hum of fluorescent lights in the lab, the low whir of machines, the rhythmic tapping of keyboards. He remembered late nights staring at screens filled with code and research notes, the caffeine-fueled conversations with colleagues who'd become friends, the quiet dinners with family where everyone was too tired to talk. He remembered his daughter's laughter echoing from the hallway, his partner's worried eyes when he stayed too late at work again, the ache in his back, the weight in his chest—constant, numbing, familiar.
He had been unraveling slowly, a man of logic and routine, watching life pass through equations and deadlines. He had known he was fading—mentally, emotionally, even physically—but he hadn't expected the end to come so suddenly. And then… nothing.
Now, he was here, in this strange new world, with this unfamiliar body, and no clear understanding of how or why.
He stood up shakily, walking toward the mirror. His limbs felt light, as though they didn't quite belong to him yet. He was twelve years old, but the memories that filled his mind felt older, like an echo of a past life that was slipping through his fingers.
"Am I dreaming?" he muttered, but the sensation of the cool wood beneath his fingers, the scent of the air, and the distant hum of the wind told him otherwise.
This was no dream.
The questions only piled up, pressing against his thoughts with increasing urgency. Who was Ren Kai? The name echoed in his mind like a foreign code, familiar yet disconnected. Where were his parents? Were they even alive in this world? What was happening to his body... and his mind? Every thought led to another, spiraling into deeper confusion.
His mind felt fractured, a jigsaw puzzle scattered across two lives. Memories flickered—some his own, some he couldn't place—like fragments of a shattered mirror catching glimpses of light. His past life still lingered in the recesses of his mind, tethered by logic and science, but this body... this place... they felt like something out of a dream painted in magic and mystery.
And yet, despite the haze clouding his thoughts, his body moved with a strange familiarity, as if muscle memory had taken the reins, his gaze drifted across the room until it landed on something..
A letter sat atop a desk near the window, folded with precision, the parchment sealed with a crimson wax emblem he didn't recognize. Its presence struck him like a whisper out of time, pulling his attention like gravity.
Something about that letter made his pulse quicken.
He stood slowly, drawn to it not by logic, but by instinct—a scientist's need to understand and a human's desperate hope for answers. Who had left it for him? What did it say? And more importantly, did it hold the key to why he had woken up as someone else?
He reached for it, breath held—because sometimes, the smallest objects carry the weight of entire lives.
With trembling hands, Kai reached for the letter on the desk, the violet seal catching the light in a way that made it look almost alive. He tore it open carefully and began to read the words inside
Kai's fingers trembled as he unfolded the letter, the soft rustling of parchment breaking the eerie stillness in the room. The violet seal on the back was no ordinary wax—it shimmered slightly as though it were reacting to his touch. He broke the seal and began to read the words scrawled across the paper:
———————————————————
To the attention of Ren Kai,
As of the morning of the 12th Day of the Silver Veil, in the Year 827 of the Luminary Cycle, there is credible indication that your latent Talent has entered the initial phase of awakening. While confirmation is pending, the irregularities detected are consistent with early signs of Talent emergence.
In view of this development—and given the exceptional and widely noted circumstances surrounding the awakening of your sister, Ren Lian—your immediate presence is formally requested at Aetherion Academy.
Aetherion stands as the leading institution for the identification, classification, and cultivation of Talents. There, under secure and confidential conditions, our assessors will conduct a comprehensive evaluation of your abilities. This process is intended not only to assign a formal classification, but to determine the scope, implications, and appropriate course of advancement for your unique potential.
We emphasize that this summons is not merely procedural. Your case may carry significance beyond personal development, and as such, it is imperative that you comply without delay.
You are hereby instructed to report to the Admissions and Awakening Department at Aetherion Academy no later than 15th Day of the Silver Veil. Bring this letter and any relevant identification. Further instructions will be provided upon arrival.
Sincerely,
Kaelis Nivane
Office of Talent Affairs
Aetherion Academy
———————————————————
Kai paused. His pulse quickened as his eyes scanned the letter again. The Aetherion Academy. He had heard of it—every child in this world had, no doubt. The Academy was a place of legend, a school that produced some of the greatest minds and warriors to ever walk the lands. To be invited there was an honor, a sign of promise.
But this… this wasn't just an invitation.
It was a consequence of his sister's awakening.
Ren Lian.
Kai's thoughts immediately shifted to her. He'd never met her in this new life, but the little memories that he can remember of her, are the warmth of her smile, and the immense pride that surged through their shared past were like ghosts in his mind. Ren Lian had awakened her Talent at the age of eight—an unprecedented S-rank Talent.. the peak ever known.. or was it?, an accomplishment so rare it had shaken the very foundations of the Talent Registry.
Her Talent was not something to be taken lightly, and it had triggered a chain of events. Ren Kai, as her blood relative, was invited to participate in the entrance exams to Aetherion Academy. The letter was clear on that.
But Kai wasn't sure how to feel. Excitement fluttered in his chest, yes—but beneath it lurked a quiet, gnawing fear. What was his Talent? What if it was weak, insignificant, unworthy of remembrance? Would he fade into the background, a mere footnote in the shadow of his sister's brilliance? And now, Aetherion Academy was calling him—not as a chosen one, but as a side note to his sister's legacy.
No one knew what his Talent truly was. Not the Academy. Not even Kai himself.
With a sigh, Kai folded the letter back up, the weight of the parchment in his hands almost comforting. This wasn't the path he would have chosen, but it was the path set before him.
He glanced out the window, where the sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon. The world beyond was vast and full of unknowns. And yet, Kai could feel the pull of destiny, something ancient and profound, gnawing at the edges of his mind. Whatever his Talent was, it was far more than he could comprehend at the moment.
The letter instructed him to report to Aetherion Academy by first light, where he would face an Assessment. He was expected to pass it
It felt daunting, but also exhilarating. Ren Kai had no training, no experience, yet something inside him stirred at the thought of it. He wasn't sure if it was courage or foolishness, but one thing was certain—he was ready to find out what lay beyond the doors of this mysterious world.
The night passed not in rest, but in restless wonder.
Ren Kai didn't sleep. Instead, he sat curled in the large reading chair by the window, the letter from Aetherion folded neatly on the table beside him, as a stack of leather-bound books and scrolls lay open around him—some already dusted with age, others newer, bearing the unmistakable sigil of the Nivane Archive. Someone had left them for him. Someone had known he'd want answers.
And he did.
He devoured each page like a starving man, his fingers tracing the elegantly inked calligraphy as if trying to memorize every word, every phrase. The more he read, the more the world began to open before him like a map unfolding across time and possibility.
The continent was called Virellen, divided into seven vast dominions, each governed by its own council, customs, and philosophies on the use and classification of Talent. From the technomancers of the Steel Vale, where arcane circuitry danced in tandem with invention, to the vine-covered temples of Lethari, where Talent was treated as a sacred communion with nature—each dominion offered a fragment of the greater puzzle that made up the arcane mosaic of this world.
And at the center of it all, high atop a floating, continent-spanning archipelago in the skies, stood Aetherion Academy. Not merely a school, but a convergence point for Talents that defied explanation. Aetherion was older than most nations, a relic of the pre-Schism age when magic and consciousness were considered indistinguishable. According to one journal entry, the Academy had once functioned as a nexus for "Mindkind's Evolution," though what that actually meant was cloaked in mystery.
It was there that Talents were assessed, tested, and ultimately Ranked.
He learned that Talents weren't learned like spells or trained like muscles—they awakened. Often suddenly, and often violently. The phenomenon varied wildly between individuals: some found their powers blossomed in times of emotional turmoil, others in dreams, and a rare few—like Ren Lian—manifested theirs during moments of total mental stillness.
Talents were ranked from E to S, and beyond that… to something still unspoken. An old scholar named Cyrael theorized the existence of an "Origin Tier," reserved for those whose Talents were so entangled with the world's laws that they became indistinguishable from myth. That idea had been laughed out of most modern academic circles—yet Ren found it strangely compelling.
He reached for another book from the stack—a thinner one, bound in weathered gray leather, its title faded with age. Yet its contents struck him more deeply than any treatise he'd read so far.
It was titled: "Frameworks of the Bound Soul: Status and the Will of the World."
Ren frowned. Status? He opened to the first page.
"Every living being upon Virellen is observed. Not by gods, nor machines, but by the Will of the World itself—a force vast and impartial. In its presence, no lie may last, no gift may remain uncounted."
He kept reading, brow furrowed.
"The 'Status' is not an illusion, nor is it mere folklore. It is an enforced metaphysical framework—a soul-deep codex visible only to the individual, through mirrors, runes, or introspective rituals. It cannot be fabricated. It cannot be destroyed. It is compelled—bound by the edict of the World Will. And it reveals what you are, what you may become, and what limits have yet to be broken."
Ren sat back, stunned. This… This was like a system interface. Not technological, but existential. Not programmed, but enforced by reality itself.
And everyone had one.
The text went on to explain that while not everyone could naturally "see" their Status, most people could access its basic properties through tools—Soul Mirrors, Awakening Runes, or Pulse Stones. The moment a Talent began to awaken, the World Will would respond. It would record.
"It defines Profession, Affinities, Talents, Attributes... and even Skills; all of them are directly ranked and named under some kind of System"
One passage chilled him:
"The World Will is not Omnipotent, but pheraps Omniscent It merely records. But in recording, it grants weight. And in weight… destiny is forged."
Ren Kai blinked at the last lines, barely processing the words. The golden light from the crystal lamps danced over the page like it was mocking him. He let the book fall shut in his lap, a little harder than he meant to.
Silence pressed in—too heavy, too aware. He could hear his own heartbeat.
What the hell is this place?
A system?
Talents?
This isn't just another world—it's a damn game..A game? The words echoed through his mind, strange yet… familiar. Not from this life. Not from this world. Why does this feel like something I should understand?
Like rules... points... levels? Or a trap. Or… something else. And I'm stuck inside it.
He rubbed his temples, breath catching. This isn't what I thought it'd be. Not even close.
He leaned back in the chair, fingers tracing the worn leather cover. The notion that something—someone—was watching, judging, mapping his very soul… it was suffocating. And yet, beneath that pressure was a strange sense of order. Back on Earth, life had been chaos—random, unfair. Talent was ignored. Hard work meant little.
But here? Here, there were rules. Harsh. Arcane. But rules nonetheless.
He exhaled slowly. His hands tensed.
Am I just a pawn again? Or do I get to choose what kind of piece I become?
His thoughts drifted to the maid's eyes as she handed him the letter. That quiet awe. That unspoken reverence—for Aetherion Academy, for Talent, for power. Respect like that wasn't given freely. It was earned. Forged through fire.
He turned toward the window. Beyond the misted glass, twin moons hung low, casting the hills in hues of silver and violet. A foreign sky above an alien world—and yet, for the first time, it felt like a place where he could belong.
I didn't ask for this. This body. This life. This… magic? Whatever it is. It's not mine. But it's real now. So what am I supposed to do—pretend I can just go back?
No. I'm here. I don't know what I'm supposed to be. But I'll figure it out. Maybe for her—the girl in the photo. My sister, I guess? Maybe for myself, too. And for the family I don't even remember…
And maybe because something out there is coming. I can feel it. Like the air just before a storm—too still. Too quiet.
He set the book aside. His jaw tightened.
He wasn't ready—not yet. He didn't know how to fight. Couldn't wield spells. Knew nothing of cultivation or essence or the unseen hierarchy that loomed above him. But he would learn. And more than that—he wanted to.
Not just for himself. For the mystery of why he, of all people, was brought to this world.
He rose.
If the world has a Will… he thought, eyes narrowed, …then so do I.
And mine begins now.
He then walked toward the shimmering mirror; stared at it for just a moment, unsure whether to speak the word aloud. "Status", he murmured, his voice tentative, like a question he hadn't quite formed. The glass rippled in response—soft, almost imperceptible—and something inside him stirred.
Words.
Symbols.
A cascade of ethereal script flared into view, woven into the glass in luminous silver ink only he could see. His eyes widened, heart racing, as he read what appeared before him..