"Where… am I?" Orin muttered, waking from a long sleep in his familiar room. His hand rose to his head, trying to grasp what remained of the pain.
"You're awake..." A familiar voice said pulling him out of his daze.
Following the voice, he turned his head. And there, he saw Vessa, slumped beside the bed in an awkward sleeping position, yawning, her long red hair, a mess. One arm had somehow ended up draped across his chest.
Despite being the Matron of the orphanage, Vessa didn't look the part. She appeared barely over twenty, with a youthful face framed by tangled red hair and a form-fitting red dress that matched it effortlessly.
Her presence carried a quiet confidence, more captivating than maternal—one that often drew second glances and whispered assumptions.
"You nearly scared me to death. You've been in a coma for a whole week... I thought you'd never wake up. Do you know how worried I was?" Vessa said, rubbing her eyes. "Your body was burning up, I had to take off your clothes."
"Take off my clothes...?" Orin blinked in confusion.
His eyes dropped to the blanket covering him, then widened.
In a flash, he sat up and yanked the sheet tighter around himself, one hand instinctively shielding his lower half.
"Why are you getting so worked up? I've been the one raising you for fourteen years since you were a baby. What haven't I seen?"
"That was when I was a baby," Orin muttered, still shielding himself. "I'm not a kid anymore…"
"If you say so," Vessa shrugged, unfazed. "But seriously, what happened to make you react like that?"
"I don't know…" Orin said, frowning. As he tried to remember, a dull sting pricked behind his eyes.
Blinking, he noticed something strange—a translucent, panel-like vision spreading across the bed's surface:
ABSOLUTE ENTITY CREATION · Soul Genesis Interface
:: CORE IDENTITY ::
Name :: Orin
Title :: UNBOUND
Class :: UNWRITTEN
Origin :: Self
Essence Pool :: PRIMAL VOID [10/10]
Path :: Soul Ascension
:: ESSENCE STATS ::
Vitality :: 1
Insight :: 1
Willpower :: 1
Intellect :: 1
Potential :: ∞
Truth :: ??? [Locked]
:: INTERNAL FRAMEWORK ::
Trait :: Blank_Slate [Active]
:: CREATIONS LOG ::
Available Creations:
- Basic Dagger- Cost: 9 Essence.
:: ASCENSION PROTOCOL ::
Power Source :: Self
Progress :: 0%
A cold shiver ran through him.
"No way... Am I hallucinating?" he muttered, staring at the strange, translucent panel.
Hurriedly, Orin squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, as if that would make the strange panel vanish.
But when he opened them again, the vision remained, floating inches above the bed, partially overlapping with Vessa's sleeping form.
"What's wrong?" Vessa asked, noticing the way Orin suddenly tensed.
"Can't you see that?" Orin pointed at the bed, his hand unknowingly aimed directly at her chest.
Vessa blinked, then raised an eyebrow. "Are you serious right now?"
Orin followed her gaze… and instantly turned red.
"T-That's not what I meant!" he sputtered, yanking his hand back.
Orin didn't ask again. One look at her raised brow was enough, yeah, she definitely didn't see anything.
Which only made it stranger.
The vision, whatever it was—wasn't floating in the air like some hologram for all to see.
It was personal. Silent. Intimate.
Visible only to him.
Or maybe it was his innate talent?
Thinking of talent, his mind suddenly jolted back to the voice he'd heard: Origin Untraceable. Individual marked for Termination.
"But even that voice… it couldn't erase my talent?" he muttered to himself, the thought sinking deeper with shock and awe.
"But what really is my talent?" he asked himself.
All he could see was that strange, vision-like panel, and the only thing special about it? No one else could see it.
He had expected his talent to be something more practical—like enhanced strength, elemental control, or even healing. Something useful. Something normal.
But instead… all he had was a panel only he could see.
"Hey, why are you thinking to yourself like that?" Vessa cut in, raising an eyebrow. "Why don't you tell Aunt Vessa instead?"
She leaned closer, half-teasing, half-curious—eyes narrowing as if trying to read his mind.
Orin rolled his eyes. "What is there to tell?"
"Hmph, tell if you want to tell. What's there to lie about?" Vessa sighed, as if she were the one being wronged.
But Orin didn't flinch. He'd seen that act too many times to fall for it now. That dramatic sigh, the wounded tone—classic Vessa playbook.
"You've tried that trick on me since I was eight," he said dryly. "Not buying it."
"You used to be cuter when you were gullible," she said, half-laughing as she covered her mouth.
"You only get today to rest. Starting tomorrow, you're going back to school. I may not know exactly what kind of talent you awakened, but I know you did.
The others have already moved ahead this past week—they're currently undergoing assessments at the city school to become Martial Apprentices.
Tomorrow they'll be going to the beasts grounds. You should prepare."
Tomorrow they'll be heading towards the
The others she was referring to were his classmates, some from the orphanage, others from the city's districts.
She said no more and gave Orin a gentle pat on the shoulder before walking out, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
The known realms are:
Martial Beginner
Martial Adept
Martial Channeler
Martial Anchor
Martial Guild
Orin's eyes widened. He hadn't expected to be left behind just after a week, even if it was just by a little. Worst of all, he still didn't understand what exactly his talent was. He suddenly felt a sense of urgency.
His gaze returned to the bed, where that panel-like vision still hovered. This time, he decided to study it more carefully—he had only given it a brief glance earlier.
As he focused on the panel-like vision, a sting of information surged into his mind. His eyes shut instinctively as he tried to absorb it.
A moment later, comprehension flickered across Orin's face.
It turned out that the panel-like vision Orin saw clinging to his bed surface wasn't an illusion.
It was the Soul Interface — one of the core manifestations of his innate talent, Absolute Entity Creation.
For reasons still unknown, the Soul Interface needed a physical surface to appear like a bed, wall, mirror, or anything solid enough to anchor its presence.
This was an unexpected shock. In all the accounts, records, and tales passed down since the day of the alignment, Orin had never heard of a talent possessing anything like a soul interface
That was the only information his talent gave him. But from what he saw on the soul interface, he could guess at a few things, but the rest, he'd have to figure out on his own.
Thinking of the Beast Grounds tomorrow, Orin felt a headache coming on. The only thing he could show for his supposed talent was the Soul Genesis Interface (SGI), a screen no one else could see.
If he couldn't prove he had a real talent... if he had nothing to defend himself with...
Then what was the point of going to the Beast Grounds at all? He'd just be meat for the monsters.
With that bitter thought, his eyes drifted to the Creation Log on the interface.
It still showed only one option:
[Basic Dagger] - Cost: 9 Essence.
Basic. It wasn't sugarcoated at all.
He didn't even know if using nine essence out of ten to create the dagger would affect him in some way, he could only hope it had a special effect.
Gritting his teeth he focused on the Creation Log section and using his will, he chose to create.
Orin's breath hitched as he stared at the Interface. The words [Basic Dagger – Cost: 9 Essence] glowed. Gritting his teeth, he willed the dagger to form. A cold surge drained through him.
Above his hand, a black grip appeared, solid and cold. Orin's face went pale, and he took a step back. He could feel the creation draining him more than he had imagined.
Stopping now was pointless — the process had already begun.
A small crossguard formed next, followed by a dark blade
A thin line ran down its center: The fuller. and the tip sharpened to a deadly point.
Last came the pommel, a silver cap.
After its completion, the fully formed dagger glowed faintly before fading back to normal.
Orin dropped to his knees, gasping. Sweat clung to his face, and his body trembled from exhaustion.
"So this is what losing nine essence feels like…?" Orin muttered, his voice barely audible.
The dagger, with nothing to support it, dropped to the ground, the blade sinking in fully, stopping just at the grip.
When the ache dulled just enough to move, Orin managed to stand. He stared at the dagger, still half-buried in the floor.
Then the details surged into his mind. As the information settled, he realized the dagger held three special traits.
A wide smile spread across his face.
"It was worth it," he muttered.