Chapter 1 – Hope
The golden hue of the evening sun bled across the sky, casting long shadows over the dry, cracked earth. Asher lay in the grass, eyes fixed on the sky above, unmoving. A soft breeze brushed against his skin, but he didn't flinch. His eyes shimmered not from the light, but from the weight behind them.
"Sigh… what a life," he muttered, voice barely audible. "Everything's against me. God must really hate me."
Around him, the world moved on families laughing, children training their spells, lights from mana-cast lanterns flickering to life in the nearby village but none of it reached Asher. He clenched his fists, teeth grinding.
"Why don't I have magic?" he whispered, pain creeping into his voice. "Why… am I the only one?"
Everyone else his age could cast spells, manipulate elements, or awaken magical cores. He had nothing. No mana. No chance. He was the village's outcast, a walking failure, bullied by peers, ignored by teachers, pitied by strangers.
A single tear slipped from his eye.
But Asher sat up slowly, brushing his shirt with a deep breath. "Crying won't change anything."
He made his way back to his small hut a worn-down shack on the edge of the village, far from the glowing towers and training halls. He grabbed his old axe and a jug of water, slinging both over his shoulder, and headed into the forest.
He chopped trees for hours. Thud. Thud. Thud. The sound of the axe hitting bark echoed in the quiet woods, each strike a vent for his frustration. Sweat trickled down his neck, mingling with the dried salt of tears. He didn't stop until the sky turned navy, the last hints of light fading behind distant hills.
Asher packed up and turned to head home.
Then rustle.
He froze. A soft movement came from a nearby bush.
He gripped the axe tighter. "What… was that?"
He crept closer, heart pounding. His body trembled slightly, unsure whether to expect a wild beast or a bandit. But just as he reached the bush
"You don't have to be afraid," came a voice behind him.
Asher spun around in shock.
An old man stood there tall, robed in grey, with a hood shadowing most of his face. Yet his presence felt… comforting. Still, something about him unsettled Asher.
"Who are you?" he asked, taking a step back.
The old man didn't answer right away. Instead, he slowly extended his hand, revealing a strange card. Its surface shimmered with white and golden light, almost like it was alive.
"May you become the hope the world needs," the man said.
Before Asher could respond, the card was already in his hand. The old man turned and vanished into the forest mist without another word.
Asher blinked. "What… just happened?"
He stared at the card. Elegant, ancient symbols adorned its surface. A single word pulsed at its center in faint letters: HOPE.
"This is just some weird prank," Asher mumbled. "A trick. A joke."
He slipped the card into his pocket and turned to leave then suddenly, warmth burst from his chest. A radiant glow spilled from his pocket. Startled, he pulled the card back out.
It was glowing white and gold, so bright it bathed the forest in light.
"What the hell is this?!"
Before he could react, the light surged into his body. He dropped the card as energy coursed through him like wildfire gentle, yet powerful. His limbs trembled. His eyes widened in awe.
"It feels… heavenly…"
The light dimmed, and Asher opened his eyes. The card was gone. But something had changed. He could feel it. Energy pulsed beneath his skin. Not mana but something… different.
He clenched his fists. A faint white aura flickered around him.
"I… I finally have power?" he whispered, barely believing it.
He looked up at the stars beginning to emerge in the night sky. For the first time in years, something stirred inside him.
Hope.