Three days had passed since the Testing.
Three days since Kael had stood with his hands on the crystal and heard the words that would define him in the eyes of others: Talent Rank: F.
The village had already moved on. Rion Valen was boasting about the letter he'd received from the Windspire Academy. Alyra Fen's awakening still had half the market talking, the baker swearing her talent was a sign of the "old bloodlines" returning.
The failures, Kael among them, were mentioned less and less, as if erasing them from memory made the shame easier to bear.
Kael was in the smithy, stoking the forge fire. The air was thick with the scent of coal smoke and hot metal, the steady ring of hammer on steel from Master Torren echoing through the small space.
"You're burning it too hot," Torren grunted without looking up. "Iron's like people, heat it too fast, it breaks. Give it time to breathe."
Kael adjusted the bellows. "Yes, Master." His voice was quiet, distracted.
Torren eyed him briefly, then went back to shaping a plow blade. "Still chewing on the test? Forget it. A rank's just a number if you've got strong hands and a bit of sense."
Kael forced a small smile. "That's not how the rest of the world sees it."
"Then the rest of the world's an idiot." Torren's hammer came down hard. "You've got work. Keep your head in it."
Before Kael could answer, a shout rang out from the street. "Look! The sky!"
The hammer paused mid-swing. Torren glanced toward the open doorway, frowning.
Kael stepped outside.
Above Graywick, the afternoon sky was bleeding. It started as a faint flush along the horizon, as if the sun had dipped too low, but the color deepened quickly, shifting from orange to a deep, impossible crimson that rolled across the clouds like spilled wine.
The air grew heavy, tasting faintly of metal, and a low hum seemed to vibrate through the stones beneath Kael's feet.
People were gathering in the square.
Rion Valen and his father stood near the fountain, staring upward. "It's some kind of omen," the elder Valen muttered.
"An omen for me," Rion said, grinning. "You'll see. This means war, and they'll need talents like mine."
Across the way, Alyra Fen stepped out of the tailor's shop, her violet-silver eyes narrowing. "That's no ordinary phenomenon. I felt a pull… like something calling."
Marla Vey joined her, clutching her coat tighter. "Calling what?"
"Not what," Alyra said softly. "Who."
From the tavern porch, old Garrick leaned on his cane. "Haven't seen the Crimson Veil since the War of Shattered Crowns. And that," he added darkly, "didn't end well for anyone."
A low, thrumming sound built in the air, like the distant beat of colossal wings. It set teeth on edge and made the air tremble in chests.
Then, a voice.
It was not loud, but it was everywhere, inside ears, inside minds, as if the words had bypassed sound entirely.
> Bearer of the Infinite Multiplier… awaken.
Kael staggered, his hands gripping the doorframe of the smithy. Around him, villagers looked around in confusion, but their faces told him they had heard nothing. Only he had.
The voice came again, clearer, colder.
> Your slumber ends. Your limit is gone.
Heat surged through him, not just in his chest, but in his blood, his bones, every fiber of muscle. The world seemed to slow, each falling raindrop visible, each breath of wind a tangible thing. He gasped, clutching at the doorway as visions flared behind his eyes.
A barren plain stretching to infinity. A throne of black stone. Rows upon rows of soldiers, beasts, and beings unknown, all turning to him and bowing.
And then, light. Blinding, endless light that sank into his skin and burned in his veins like molten gold.
The hum in the air deepened, and the crimson sky seemed to pulse once, as if in response.
"Kael!" Torren's voice broke through the haze. The smith had a hand on his shoulder, shaking him. "What's wrong with you?"
Kael blinked. The visions faded, but the heat in his blood did not.
"I… I think something's" He stopped. How could he explain what had just happened?
In the square, Alyra was staring at him, her expression unreadable.
The crimson clouds began to thin, the unnatural color retreating toward the horizon. Conversations broke out in urgent murmurs. The hum faded. The world seemed… normal again.
But Kael knew it wasn't.
Inside his mind, a faint panel of golden text had appeared, hanging in the air before him like a page of light:
---
[Infinite Multiplier System Activated]
All resources, skills, and units under your command will grow ×100 rate of normal progression.
Condition: Establish a domain to begin accumulation.
---
His breath caught. A domain? He owned nothing but a cot above the smithy and the tools Torren let him use.
Yet deep down, he understood: this was no dream, no fever. This was real.
Alyra's voice drifted over from the square. "Something just changed here. I can feel it."
Kael turned before she could see his face.