The sky over Vaelgard Village was cloudy, painted in gray and pale gold. A cold wind blew through the cracked stone streets, making old signs creak and flags flutter.
People were gathered at the center of the village, around the Ancient Shrine, waiting for the Awakening Ceremony to begin. It was a special day for the youth—one that could change their lives forever.
Today, they would place their hands on the Magic Stone and discover their rank.
Children lined up near the shrine, some shaking with fear, others bouncing with excitement.
S-Rank. A-Rank. Even B-Rank. Any of these could bring honor to their family. Magic meant everything here—it gave you power, status, even food.
And standing far in the back, leaning on a broken fence post, was Coker.
No excitement in his eyes. No nervous energy.
Just a bored expression, and a half-eaten apple in one hand.
"Let me guess," he muttered to himself, taking a bite, "Next kid touches the stone, it lights up, everyone claps, and the bakery gives out free bread again."
As if the universe was following a script, a boy stepped forward, placed his hand on the Magic Stone… and BOOM!
A blast of blue light shot into the sky.
"A-Rank Wind Magic!" shouted the old elder beside the shrine.
The crowd gasped, then exploded into cheers. Parents cried. Kids clapped. Some jumped up and down.
Coker threw the apple core over his shoulder.
"Called it."
He turned to leave, but a voice stopped him.
"Yo! Rankless!"
Coker didn't even flinch. He knew that voice too well.
It was Drell, the local fire mage with a mouth as loud as his spells. He wore his usual flame-colored cloak and the confident look of someone who thought he was the main character of life.
Two of his goons followed behind him, laughing before he even said anything.
"Three times now, huh?" Drell said, walking up. "Three ceremonies. Three failures."
Coker didn't answer. He just blinked slowly and replied, "Wow. You can count. Proud of you."
One of Drell's friends laughed and quickly shut up when Drell glared at him.
"Listen here, rankless rat," Drell growled, sparks rising from his hand. "Magic is everything. And you? You're nothing."
Coker didn't move. Didn't even look scared.
Instead, he gave a half-smile and said, "If I'm nothing, why do you keep talking to me?"
That got to him. Drell's face turned red—not from power, but from rage.
His hand flared with fire, ready to strike.
But the elder shouted from across the field, "Enough! Save it for the tournament!"
Drell hesitated, then backed off.
"Whatever," he muttered. "Go back to your dirt hole."
The crowd faded. The cheers died down. One by one, families returned home. Coker stood alone for a while, hands in his pockets, watching the last embers of the ceremony fade from the sky.
Back at his small house, dinner was waiting.
Soup again. Thin. Mostly water.
His little sister, Mina, stirred it while humming a tune. She was only ten but always tried to act older when he was around.
"Did you touch the stone again?" she asked softly.
Coker sat down. "Nah. I figured it already hates me."
She looked up. "You're not cursed, you know."
He chuckled. "I'm something. Not sure what, though."
They ate in silence for a while. The soup wasn't great, but it was warm.
"People laugh at you," she said quietly. "But I don't."
"I know," he replied, giving her a tired smile.
She reached out and held his hand. "You'll get your magic one day."
Coker didn't say anything.
He wanted to believe her.
That night, sleep didn't come easy.
Coker climbed out the window and sat on the roof, legs dangling off the side. The village was dark and quiet now. Only the stars above blinked, cold and far away.
He looked at his hand—still empty. Still the same.
"I don't care what they say," he whispered to the night.
"I don't need a rank to matter."
But a part of him—deep, buried under jokes and shrugs—did care.
A lot.
Because no matter how strong he acted… he wanted to be chosen, just once.
He closed his eyes.
And that's when it happened.
A sharp pain shot through his chest—sudden and deep, like something twisting inside him.
He gasped and grabbed his shirt, falling forward onto the roof tiles.
Then… it stopped.
Just as fast as it came, it vanished.
He sat there, breathing hard, his heart pounding.
"What… was that?"
Far away, hidden beneath a forgotten mountain, something ancient stirred.
A seal, silent for hundreds of years, cracked slightly.
A low voice echoed in the dark:
"He has awakened."