Kael's hands trembled as he watched the other youths ascend the podium.
One by one, they received their results before the crowd gathered in the Great Square of Verith.
The hot sun beat down on the ancient stones of the square, and the smell of dust and sweat mingled in the air.
Kael's mouth was dry, his heart pounding in his chest. Each cheer from the crowd echoed in his ears like distant thunder.
[Name: Marcus Ironheart]
[Potential: B]
[Ability: B — Iron Manipulation]
The crowd erupted in applause. Marcus smiled, proud, as the examiners noted his data on glowing scrolls.
The sound of seals being stamped echoed across the square, and even from a distance, Kael could see the examiners carefully registering everything on the parchments.
Kael swallowed dryly, feeling the weight of his parents' gazes from the audience.
They were there, in the farthest corner, wearing mended clothes they had saved for months to buy.
The dress his mother had sewn late into the night, her fingers raw from the needles.
His father's coat, which hid the burn marks on his arms—scars from years of working at the forge.
His father, an E-Rank blacksmith, calloused hands clutching a worn hat—the same hat he had worn for as long as Kael could remember.
His mother, an E-Rank artisan, her weary eyes hidden behind a simple scarf, but he saw her trembling fingers clutching the fabric.
Both of them worked to their very last ounce of energy just to support him.
Kael remembered the meals they skipped to save money. The nights his mother sewed until dawn, her eyes red with exhaustion.
And his father, who had sold his best tools to pay for the ceremony's registration fee.
And he, their only son, was about to decide the family's future.
"I can't be a burden to them," Kael thought, his heart racing. "I have to be strong. I have to earn money. I have to help."
The fear of disappointing his family was paralyzing him.
He took a deep breath.
And finally, he walked slowly to the evaluation altar.
His feet felt heavy, as if they were sinking into the stone. Each step was an effort.
As he climbed the podium steps, he felt his heart racing, his mouth dry, and cold sweat trickling down his back.
[Name: Kael Voltur]
[Potential: F]
[Ability: F — Null Instinct]
The silence was total.
A silence that was heavy, that cut, that made even the air seem to stand still.
For a second, not even the wind dared to blow.
Kael felt all eyes on him—thousands of people frozen, waiting.
Then, the laughter began.
Low, whispered, but sharp as blades.
"F-Rank? Does that even exist?" someone mocked from the crowd.
"Null Instinct? What kind of useless ability is that?" another laughed.
"Complete trash. He shouldn't have even come."
Kael didn't look to the sides. He kept his eyes fixed on the examiner, a noble-looking man with an impassive face.
The examiner didn't even look up. He just scribbled something on the parchment with a hot wax seal, as if he were noting the weather of a passing storm.
"You may step down from the podium," the examiner said, without raising his eyes from the parchment. "Next candidate."
As if Kael were just an obstacle to be removed.
He descended the steps slowly, feeling each step like a stone on his shoulders.
He walked past the pitying gazes of the other youths, the condescending smiles, the murmurs that no longer tried to be discreet.
When he reached the ground, he looked at his parents.
His mother covered her mouth with her hand, but he saw her eyes welling up.
His father lowered his head, clutching his hat tightly.
But neither of them abandoned him. They both walked over to him and embraced him.
His mother hesitated for a second before hugging him, as if trying to find the right words.
"It's okay, son," she whispered, but her voice broke in the middle. She tried to continue but stopped. "You are... you're strong in your own way."
His father hugged Kael tightly, and he felt the calloused hands trembling slightly.
"We can keep working," his father said, but his voice came out low, almost like a promise he didn't believe himself. He tried to smile, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "Don't worry."
Kael felt a knot in his throat so tight he could barely breathe.
They couldn't keep working like this. They were already dying of exhaustion.
But he said nothing.
He just nodded and followed his parents home, ignoring the stares that followed him.
The walk through the city outskirts was long. Larger houses appeared next to simple huts, creating a contrast that had never felt so stark.
Along the way, he heard other youths complaining.
"My body feels so heavy," complained a C-Talent boy, massaging his shoulders. "The spiritual pressure the altar releases is just like my cousins said."
"I feel it too," a girl agreed. "It's like something is holding me down, limiting my movements."
"That's normal. Everyone feels it after the Ceremony. It's the price of discovering your talents."
Kael frowned.
Spiritual pressure?
Heaviness in his body?
He felt nothing.
No weight, no pressure, no resistance.
Just silence.
As if nothing had changed in his body.
"Strange," he murmured, but didn't give it much thought. Maybe F-Ranks simply didn't feel it.
Maybe they were so weak that not even spiritual pressure was released.
But then, something strange happened.
A leaf fell from the sky, spinning toward his face.
And at the last instant, it veered away.
As if the wind had changed direction, or as if the air itself didn't want to touch him.
Kael stopped, staring at the leaf that now danced to his side, landing on the ground without ever having come close.
"Strange," he murmured, but didn't give it much thought.
Maybe it was just the wind.
When they arrived home—a small wooden hut on the outskirts of the city—Kael locked himself in his room.
The hut was too small. The cracked wooden walls let in the cold wind, and the roof dripped when it rained.
But it was their home. The only home they had.
He needed to think.
He needed to find a way to earn money.
He couldn't be a Hunter, not with F-Talent. Even E-Ranks had trouble hunting monsters, and many died.
He couldn't be a City Guard. They required at least D-Rank.
He couldn't be a Merchant. No capital, no connections, no nothing.
"What can I do?" he pondered, sitting on the packed-dirt floor. "How can I help my parents when I'm so weak?"
The floor was cold, rough. He touched the earth with his hands, feeling the coarse texture under his fingers.
And then, a memory surfaced.
His father working at the forge, even with burned hands. His mother sewing until dawn, even with red eyes.
They never gave up.
Why should he?
Night fell over Verith, and Kael still had no answers.
Lying on his simple bed, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep.
But sleep wouldn't come.
"I have to find a way," he murmured.
Kael sighed, looking at the cracked wooden ceiling.
Either way, it didn't matter.
F-Talent meant one thing: he was useless.
And useless didn't earn money.
He closed his eyes again, trying to force sleep to come.
A few minutes later, he finally drifted off.
But even in sleep, his thoughts kept spinning.
About his parents.
About the need to help.
About the impossibility of doing anything.
When the sun rose the next day, Kael woke before dawn.
The golden light began to filter through the cracks of the hut, illuminating the dust dancing in the air.
He got up silently, looking at his parents sleeping in the next room.
His father was snoring lightly. His mother slept curled up, as if she were always cold.
Kael paused at their door, watching for a moment.
And then, something changed inside him.
It wasn't a decision that came from nowhere. It was something that had been growing, like a seed finally breaking through the earth.
Kael had awoken with a decision.
It didn't matter if he was F-Rank.
It didn't matter if everyone called him trash.
He had to try.
Even if no one else in the world believed it was possible.