Ruhan jolted upright, his entire frame convulsing. His violet eyes, swimming in tears, seemed to drown in a feral panic.
He stared at his own trembling hands and let out a jagged, manic laugh—but beneath the sound lay the unmistakable rattle of sheer terror.
Cold sweat beaded on his forehead. His heart hammered against his ribs, a deafening drumbeat echoing in his skull. The moment that man's face flashed in his memory, his ears rank with a hollow numbness. The room spun, and a wave of nausea clawed its way up his throat.
He blinked, wasting as reality slowly bled back in. He let out a shaky sigh. He was sitting at his study desk. He must have fallen asleep while reading, though the hours had slipped away unnoticed.
That harrowing nightmare had dragged him back to consciousness. He whispered to the silence, "Why does this always happen to me?"
His gauze drifted to a water jug and glass resting on the corner of the table, likely left there by a family member. But... why was the jug sweating, just like him?
Condensation trickled down the glass, mimicking the blood that had slid from the blade when the man tore the knife from his stomach. A phantom pain seared through him. The fear was still vivid, carved deep into the marrow of his memory.
Suddenly, an overwhelming thirst seized him. If he didn't drink that very second, his throat felt as though it would crack. He reached out, but his hand shook violently. He managed to grasp the handle—but his grip failed.
Crash.
The judge hits the floor. The lid popped off, and water pooled across the ground—but in Ruhan's delirium, it looked like a spreading crimson stain. His eyes narrowed to needle points. That demonic grin—the man's sadistic smile—flashed before his vision. The wheel of terror had begun to turn once more.
"That... that was just a nightmare," he stammered, his voice cracking. "Nothing else...nothing else."
He hugged his own torso, rocking slightly. "A nightmare... yes! Maybe the Goddess is punishing me because I failed to offer worship yesterday. That must be why an evil spirit possessed my dreams!"
A sob escaped his throat. "But... but I remember it so clearly! That excruciating pain—it is still haunting me!"
He pressed a hand to his feverish forehead and collapsed onto the bed beside his desk. The soft mattress offered a fleeting comfort to his limbs, but the rest of him felt submerged in molten lava—burning, aching, and suffocating in a clinging dread.
***
Ruhan's room was a modest sanctuary, similar to that of any middle-class boy. It was a simple rectangle stretching from east to west.
The entrance was on the south. Upon entering, the first thing one saw was a large drawing table in the northeast corner, cluttered with textbooks and a stack of fantasy novels. To the left stood his bed; to the right, his study desk. The rest of the room was stark, holding only the bare essentials.
Ruhan stared at the empty space, remembering how, just a year ago, this room had been alive. He used to share stories, play-fights, and sleepovers on this very bed with his two best friends. But, as always, fate had pilfered his happiness.
When they entered the Academy and took the aptitude test, the truth was laid bare. His best friends, Linara and Akira, were revealed to be the pride of their respective bloodlines. And Ruhan? He was the stain on his clan.
At barely eleven or twelve years old, they had awakened their Soul Realms .
Those capable of this feat were known as Masterers . To awaken the Soul Realm was to step beyond the limits of mortality into a world of magic. The difference between a Master and an ordinary human—physically, mentally, and spiritually—was as vast as the distance between heaven and earth.
Typically, children of Masterer lineage awakened their potential between the ages of thirteen and fourteen. By that standard, Linara and Akira were prodigies.
But Ruhan? He was already fifteen, and his soul remained dormant. His Soul Mastery —the metric of inner awakening—languished at a pathetic 10%. Even an intelligent beast possessed a mastery of 11% or 12%, and an average human stood at 15%.
Ruhan could clearly see the chasm between himself and the talent of his clan. That silent despair was carving a hollow space in his heart.
The cause of his stagnation remained a mystery to his family, his teachers, and even himself. To the world, he was simply a defined " failure ."
Yet, Akira and Linara never looked down on him. To them, he was still a beloved friend and brother. Their bond remained untouched by the cruel judgments of family or society.
Thinking of them lightened the heavy load in Ruhan's chest. But then, a stray thought crossed his mind—Linara had grown up quite a bit recently. Her figure was... far fuller than before.
"They are amazingly soft!", Ruhan thought, a rare, sly smirk touching his lips. " Bigger and better than any other girl my age."
He lay back on his pillow, finding a sliver of peace in those memories. But his relaxation was short-lived.
His eyes snagged on a sheet of paper remaining on the study table. The Academy report card. In the center, a single, bold letter glared back at him like a tombstone : F.
This was his final result. Failing this meant the path forward was now erased.
Ruhan sat motionless. His vision blurred as waves of despair churned in his gut. This wasn't just a grade—it was a verdict on his existence.
He clenched his teeth, the mocking words of his teachers echoing in his mind:
"You'll never make it... A waste of space like you..."
"He has no true talent. His Soul Realm is stagnant. Even a lowly beast has a brighter spark than he does."
"His soul is trapped in endless darkness—where no light reaches, where no talent is born. His Soul Realm is a temple buried in dust, and his Mastery is a forgotten prayer."
Tears of rage and sorrow traced hot paths down his cheeks. He had dragged the family name through the mud. The Ahmed Family—once the proud, historic warlords of the Bhola district—now reduced to this.
The whispers of the rival clans filled his head, their laughter piercing him like arrows.
The Delal Clan:
"The last Ahmed, Ruhan? The name sounds like a legend, but the boy is a joke. He's permanently on the fail list!"
"I heard the Ahmeds once carried dragon blood... now it seems they carry only hot air."
The Chaprashee Clan:
"The Ahmeds have fallen, not on the battlefield, but in the exam hall!"
"Even our toddlers have stronger Soul Mastery than him."
"Maybe being the 'Last Ahmed' means he's simply the last in everything."
The Talukdars (His mother's own kin):
"The Ahmeds were once kings; now they are just red marks on a report card."
"His failure only makes our victory look more majestic."
Ruhan trembled, caught in an invisible cycle of rage, disgrace, and impotence. He knew these weren't just insults—they were strikes against his bloodline's honor.
***
Today was October 5th by the Gregorian calendar. But in this world, a more ancient timekeeper ruled: the Moonlight Calendar .
This calendar dictates the lives of Masterers, following the phases and power of the moon. It deeply influenced Soul Mastery.
According to the Moonlight Calendar, today was the 5th of the Bloodmoon .
Ruhan glanced at the wall clock. 9:00 PM.
His parents would return from the Organization soon. He could vividly imagine the scene when they saw the report card. Though they had never believed in him, the family's strict traditions meant punishment was inevitable.
The Academy exams were brutal, divided into two pillars: Theoretical and Physical .
Theory based on memory and comprehension. Even without magical talent, one could pass. But Ruhan... he could remember nothing. It was as if a dark fog shackled his intellect, preventing him from using his mind freely.
The Physical exam, however, was the true crucible. It tested Strength Mastery —control, endurance, and resilience. For a Master, this determines their Rank .
Ranks ranged from 3 to 1—Rank 3 being the weakest, Rank 1 the strongest. These ranks were defined by the three types of Strength Mastery: Sentira, Draketh, and Arcanis.
Ruhan's 10% Soul Mastery and 0% Strength Mastery placed him at the absolute bottom of the abyss.
He sat on the edge of the bed, his body drained of will. The burden of failure was so heavy it felt as if his own shadow was strangling him. Tears welled up again.
And yet...
A faint, fierce smile curved his lips. It was inexplicable. It felt as if a fire still burned within the darkness—small, but stubborn. A hidden voice whispered from the depths of his being—
"This isn't the end. No one can stop me."
The room fell silent. The ticking of the clock echoed like a judge's gavel. Through the window, the crimson light of the Bloodmoon spilled onto the bed, bathing him in a surreal glow.
Ruhan thought— If the moon can shine with such crimson defiance, why can't I?
His eyes finally closed. Gradually, his muscles relaxed. The waves of pain and despair receded, leaving only that faint, lingering smile. It was as if, even within the deepest darkness, a small ember refused to die.
Ruhan drifted into sleep, his mind sinking into an invisible struggle. Something within him was stirring.
Outside, the Bloodmoon burned across the sky.
Inside, a boy who had lost his light lay quietly in the dark.
Not just this once.
Not fair in this life.
It seemed as if all hope had shattered.
Yet... something inside still pulsed.
Something that never dies.
An unseen force—small, silent, but unbreakable.
The moon was crimson.
The sky burned.
In the darkness, he was alone.
Yet he was moving.
He was not broken.
No fate could sever his core.
Not now.
Never.
Something inside was awakening.
Something that would never fade.
Waiting...simply waiting...to break free.