The Awakening Ceremony had ended, yet the tension in Emberleaf Village lingered like a stubborn fog. Villagers whispered as Ashen moved through the square, patched clothes brushing dusty earth. Their eyes were curious, cautious, and a little fearful. His ember pulsed faintly in his chest, the soft orange glow almost invisible, yet it seemed to set him apart.
Orin and his friends blocked his path near the village well. Orin, tall and broad-shouldered, smirked.
"So… the dead-last weakling awakened a flame?" he sneered. "A candle at best. You embarrassed the whole village."
Ashen ignored him, moving with calm, measured steps. But Orin grabbed his shoulder. "I'm talking to you—!"
Reflexes honed in his past life and sharpened by the Ember Root took over. Ashen twisted away, causing Orin to stumble. The crowd gasped. Orin swung his fist. Ashen sidestepped, tapping Orin's wrist—enough to unbalance him without causing harm.
Elder Rowan's deep voice rang out. "Enough! Orin—Ashen—you both will join the beginner training group tomorrow. Let your actions speak there."
Orin scowled, retreating, while Ashen inclined his head respectfully. Yet Elder Rowan's gaze lingered on him a moment too long, measuring something beyond the boy's apparent weakness.
That night, Ashen sat behind his hut, the cold straw pressing into his back. He closed his eyes and focused inward. The ember in his dantian pulsed steadily, radiating warmth. It was weak, fragile—but alive.
[New Feature Unlocked: Ember Pulse]→ Allows brief bursts of strength, drains energy quickly.
A shadow flickered near the edge of the village, disappearing before he could pinpoint it.
[Hidden Threat Detected]
Ashen's body tensed. "So… the Ember Root is already attracting attention," he whispered. He extended his senses slightly, feeling the ember respond. It nudged him toward awareness, but revealed little. Someone—or something—was watching.
The village around him seemed darker, the shadows stretching longer. He replayed the ceremony in his mind: the altar, the crowd, the faint flicker of his ember against the elder's scrutinizing gaze. Even without unleashing its full potential, the ember had sparked whispers of awe—and fear.
He remembered Orin's mockery and the scornful laughter of the villagers. A spark of anger mixed with amusement rose inside him. In his previous life, he had learned that fear could be as powerful as strength. The Ember Root was more than a spark—it was potential, a tool he could mold.
He sank back to the straw mat, sitting cross-legged. Focused inward, he imagined the ember weaving through his meridians, opening blocked paths and strengthening his core. Sweat beaded his forehead, but he did not stop. Each heartbeat felt amplified, each breath sharper.
The system's warnings about his body's fragility, the predicted collapse at sixteen, no longer frightened him. Predictions were not destiny. He clenched his fists.
"I won't collapse this time," he whispered. "I will rise. I will grow. No one… will extinguish this ember."
The night wind rustled the sparse trees, carrying the scent of smoke and earth. Somewhere, a distant owl hooted. Ashen stood and stretched, feeling the ember respond to his resolve.
[Ember Root Status: Active][Energy Circulation: 12% Increased][Hidden Threat Awareness: Level 1]
He practiced subtle control, feeling the ember entwine with his breath and heartbeat. Each tiny flicker was a promise of strength yet to come.
As the moon rose, Ashen lay down, exhausted but vigilant. The ember glowed faintly, like a candle against the dark. Somewhere beyond the village, unseen eyes had noticed it.
If the world wanted to hunt this flame, it would have to catch him first.