The sun was barely peeking over the horizon when Kael opened his eyes. The light filtered through the small gaps in the wooden walls of his home, painting the room in shades of gold and amber. He remained still for a while, staring at the ceiling as the memories of the body's previous owner quietly flowed through his mind once again.
That young man, simple and humble, had lived his life in this remote village, making a living through small hunts and odd tasks. His days had been predictable, almost monotonous — until fate had replaced his existence with Kael's own soul.
As Kael sifted through these memories, one subject kept drawing his attention: ' the mage class '. In this world, being a mage was far from ordinary. It wasn't simply about learning spells from a dusty book; the path to becoming a mage was considered prestigious, reserved for the few who had both the affinity and the strength to unlock it.
Unlike other classes, mage required rare talents to awaken — talents most people could only dream of. Warriors, archers, even beast tamers were far more common. But a mage… a mage had power that could shake kingdoms if nurtured.
A faint smile formed on Kael's lips. In his heart, he already knew — his talents weren't just good, they were "beyond extraordinary". His unique gifts ensured he could walk any path he desired, and magic was the one that shone brightest in his mind.
After a quick meal, Kael made his way to the home of the village leader. The old man was someone who had seen countless young people try — and fail — to reach their dreams beyond the safety of their home.
When Kael entered, the leader looked up from his desk with calm, patient eyes.
"So," the man said, "what brings you here so early?"
"I want to go to the guild," Kael stated plainly.
The leader raised an eyebrow. "The guild? You mean the Adventurers' Guild in the city?"
Kael nodded. "Yes. I want to test my abilities there."
The old man leaned back in his chair, observing him in silence for a moment before speaking again. "You've reached the awakening age, then?"
"I have."
The leader's tone grew more cautious. "And… do you truly believe your talents are strong enough to try?"
Kael met his gaze without hesitation. "Yes. I believe they are."
For a brief second, the leader's expression showed doubt — not out of malice, but habit. Many in his position had seen bright-eyed youths walk into the city full of hope, only to return broken or never return at all. Still, he nodded slowly.
"Very well," he said. "You have my approval. You can make the journey to the guild."
Notably, he did not ask Kael what his talents were. In this world, asking about another's awakened abilities was considered intrusive — even offensive — unless the person volunteered the information themselves. Talents were a matter of pride, shame, and sometimes danger.
As Kael left the house, the leader's thoughts lingered.
> ' It's not that I don't believe in him… but the truth is, most people in this world awaken with talents too weak to ever join a guild. And then there are the unlucky ones — those cursed with talents so useless they're little more than burdens.'
The old man sighed, returning to his work. Still, a small part of him hoped Kael might be one of the rare exceptions.
.
.
.
Kael stepped out of the village leader's house, the wooden door closing with a dull thud behind him. The crisp morning air carried a faint scent of damp soil and distant cooking fires. He paused on the narrow dirt path, eyes fixed on the distant hills where the city lay hidden beyond the horizon.
The guild. His first real destination in this world.
The road there wasn't treacherous enough to demand an armed escort at every step, but it wasn't harmless either. Wild animals roamed the edges of the forest, and now and then, a group of bandits would find an unguarded traveler worth the risk. The greater problem, however, was the distance — days of walking, each step burning strength he could better use elsewhere.
Not worth the trouble.
Traveling with a merchant caravan was the obvious choice. The merchants gained extra safety with more people in their group, and travelers avoided exhaustion and unnecessary risk. A simple exchange of coin for comfort and security.
Kael's hand closed around the small leather pouch at his belt, feeling the uneven weight of its contents.
Money here was straightforward one hundred copper coins equaled one silver, and a hundred silver made one gold. A full day of decent meals cost a single copper. He had two silver coins and seventy-six copper — enough for the caravan fare and the guild's registration fee, with little left over.
The silver coins carried memories that weren't truly his… but that didn't matter.
The first had come from chance — a wounded beast stumbling into a trap, its meat and hide sold for a profit. The second was from something less accidental — a stranger found injured in the forest, killed by the body's previous owner for his coin purse. One silver, a handful of coppers.
Kael's expression didn't shift. There was no moral weight to the memory, only fact. The coins were his now. That was all that mattered.
He turned toward his home — a small, leaning structure of rough wood and patched walls. Inside, he moved quickly. From the corner, he pulled a worn but well-kept hunting sword, sliding it into the plain scabbard at his side. A few changes of clothes, a skin of water, some dried meat, and other small necessities went into a makeshift cloth pack. It wasn't much, but he didn't intend to carry more than he needed.
Within minutes, he was locking the door behind him, the weight of the sword familiar at his hip, the pack resting lightly on his back.
The market was already alive by the time he arrived. Wooden wheels creaked, beasts snorted, and voices mingled in the early air. The caravan wasn't hard to find — two modest wagons, patched in places, their goods hidden beneath rough cloth. A pair of draft beasts shifted their weight lazily, swishing their tails against the morning flies.
A man in a faded brown coat stood beside the lead wagon, counting sacks and marking something on a small wax tablet. His beard was neatly trimmed, but his clothes were travel-worn. The eyes that flicked toward Kael were quick, measuring.
"You're looking for a seat to the city?" the merchant asked before Kael even spoke.
"Yes," Kael replied simply. "I can pay."
The man gave a short nod. "Three copper for the ride. Four if you want a spot under the cover instead of sitting outside."
Kael considered it for only a second. Three copper was nothing compared to the wasted days walking on foot. "Covered," he said, pulling the coins from his pouch and handing them over.
The merchant bit one lightly, as if habit, then pocketed them. "We leave within the hour. Put your things near the second wagon. And don't wander too far — we don't wait for stragglers."
Kael gave a small nod, walking toward the wagon without another word. The arrangement was done. Transaction complete.
The journey would be easier now, and easier meant more energy for what came next.