The cold air of the ruined temple wrapped around Qin Shui as he settled into position once again. His breath steamed faintly in the night, each exhale a reminder of the fragile boundary between the world he knew and the impossible power awakening inside him.
For weeks, he had wrestled with that power — a drifting spark in the dark that flared too wildly or flickered too faintly. Tonight, something within him shifted.
He closed his eyes and drew a slow, deliberate breath. The orb before him glowed faintly, delicate glyphs spiraling like ancient smoke above its surface. He let his mind quiet, willing the chaos inside to settle.
The warmth beneath his skin spread, more focused, more insistent this time. Slowly, deliberately, Qin Shui raised his trembling right hand.
At first, nothing happened.
Then—a pulse of light leapt from his palm. It shivered, then brightened into a small orb of pure luminescence, hovering just above his open hand. The tiny sphere spun, casting shifting shadows across the ruined stones. It was small—fragile—but undeniably real.
Qin Shui's breath caught in his throat. A smile, tentative and disbelieving, brushed his lips.
"It's... working," he whispered.
The orb pulsed again, responding as if alive, syncing rhythmically with the light in his palm.
The voice inside the ancient artifact stirred, warmer and clearer than ever before.
"You have taken your first step, Qin Shui. Power's threshold trembles beneath your feet. But the path is long, and every spark must be nurtured lest it consume you."
Exhaustion claimed him then, and he sank against the cold stone, heart racing, limbs weak.
The quiet triumph, however, was not without danger.
At work the next day, Qin Shui was distracted, the lingering warmth in his hands an irritating itch beneath the surface. His coworkers noticed his distant gaze, some scoffing at what they assumed was tiredness.
As he reached to grab a small component, a sudden surge of energy escaped his control—a brief, brilliant flash that sparked electric arcs along the metal table. Nearby machines stuttered and went dark for a breathless moment.
Gasps and angry murmurs rippled around him.
"Watch where you're going!" hissed a foreman, his eyes sharp beneath a grim expression.
Qin Shui's cheeks burned as he quickly masked the tremor in his fingers. No one could know. Not yet.
He swallowed hard and nodded helplessly, forcing his hands to steady once more.
That night, back in the sanctuary of the ruins, Qin Shui stared at the orb, now glowing softly in his palm.
Power was no simple gift. It was wild and raw, rebellious and dangerous—yet it was his alone to wield.
The voice whispered again:
"Balance is your ally. Without it, even the brightest light fades into chaos."
His fingers twitched, and the glowing sphere reappeared, steady and obedient this time.
A flicker of hope blossomed in his chest.
The road was far from over. He had much to learn, many trials to endure. But for the first time, Qin Shui glimpsed the possibility of mastery. The promise of a future where he was no longer invisible.
Tonight, beneath ancient ruins and starlit skies, a boy from the shadows took his first true step toward becoming a force that might one day change the world.