The days blurred together like fading echoes — monotonous, heavy, and relentless. Qin Shui moved through the motions, the orb hidden securely beneath his threadbare jacket, a secret tether pulling him toward an unknown destiny.
Each night, he returned to the ruins, tracing the patterns of the glowing glyphs with growing determination. The language remained an enigma, but beneath his frustration, a steady resolve stirred.
Power, the voice said — power came with balance. Mind and machine. Magic and flesh.
But what did that truly mean?
Back in his small apartment, the air felt heavier with each passing day. His mother's weariness etched deeper lines in her face, and Qin Shui's guilt gnawed at him. The artifact gave promise of strength, but what use was power if it cost those he loved?
Still, the orb remained silent save for occasional pulses of warmth. It neither gave him answers nor comfort — only a warning: to struggle was inevitable, and the road ahead was shrouded in more darkness than dawn.
One evening, as rain streaked the cracked windowpane, Qin Shui traced the curves of a glyph glowing faintly on the orb's surface.
He whispered to the artifact:
"Why don't you teach me? Why must I guess and stumble through this alone?"
No immediate reply. Just the slow, rhythmic pulse—like a heartbeat beneath his palm.
And then—
A shard of the voice, cutting through the quiet.
"Because only you can walk this path. The power is not in the artifact, but in the one who wields it. Do you understand, Qin Shui?"
He swallowed and nodded to himself, the truth settling in like stone. This was no gift handed freely. It was a challenge — one he might very well fail.
Days turned into weeks. Qin Shui's body grew stronger, muscles honed not just by labor but by the subtle magic that now simmered beneath his skin — sparks flickering in moments of sudden emotion, shadows of power that weren't yet controlled.
But while he learned to listen, he learned also to hide. No one could know what simmered within him. The city's eyes were sharp, and the price of discovery cruel.
One night, alone beneath the stars masked by neon lights, Qin Shui closed his eyes and breathed deeply.
No magic. No status. Just a boy with an orb and a will.
Yet somewhere in the depths, a fire was lit—a fire that would not be extinguished.
And from the whispering ruins to the towers of Lumeria, the tale of Qin Shui had only just begun.