The morning light spilled through the dormitory window, cutting gentle ribbons across the room. Dust motes drifted lazily in the golden hue, and the faint scent of crushed herbs lingered from last night's poultices—sweet, clean, and strangely grounding. For the first time since arriving at the Academy, Ael woke to silence. No shouting, no drills, no distant explosions of magic practice—only the calm rhythm of his own breathing.
He sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, eyes tracing the streaks of sunlight across the wooden floor.
For days he had avoided thinking too deeply about the thing that now lived inside him—the system—but that uneasy curiosity had been building, gnawing at the edges of his calm.
Today, he decided, he would try to understand it.
He exhaled and whispered to himself, "Alright… let's see what you really are."
So far, all he knew was that the system displayed his stats in an elegant, translucent window—an ability no other Awakener had. For everyone else, mana flowed like intuition; they could feel their limits, sense their growth. But Ael could see it. Names, numbers, symbols… and a strange title attached to him that he didn't understand. Sometimes it felt like he was reading a biography written by someone else.
He leaned back, muttering, "Lyra's probably a Pyromancer or Fire Mage class…" The thought brought a faint smirk. Her energy had that relentless flame—brilliant, unyielding, sometimes a little reckless. "Then what am I, really?"
He rubbed his temples. "And what can I even do with you, system?"
The room answered only with quiet.
He sighed. "Figures."
The familiar blue light flickered into being as he summoned his status screen, its faint hum echoing softly in his mind. Lines of text shimmered before him—Name, Level, Stats—all perfectly neat, perfectly unreadable beyond their surface meaning. Yet something new caught his eye this time: a small gear icon at the top right corner.
He tilted his head. "Huh. You weren't there before."
Curiosity got the better of him. He reached toward it mentally, and the interface shifted, the numbers fading into a darker panel. A single word appeared in the center:
Guidance: OFF
Ael blinked. "Wait… that's it? You've been quiet this whole time because—"
He pressed the checkbox.
A pulse of cold ran down his spine. The air in the room trembled faintly, as if the world had exhaled in response. Then—
[Hello, Elyrion.]
The voice resonated inside his head, smooth and steady. It sounded like him. Not similar—identical.
[Thank you for activating the system guidance. With this feature enabled, I will be able to assist you in breaking your limitations and increasing your strength.]
He froze. "You sound like me," he murmured.
[I am your voice because I am part of you.]
That should have felt comforting, but it didn't. There was something disorienting about hearing himself answer back, something that pressed against his sanity in quiet, unseen ways.
Still, if everything else in his life had turned absurd already—monsters, awakenings, Lyra's firestorms—then talking to himself in his own head was just another step down the same road.
"Alright, system. Let's talk."
He cleared his throat, then hesitated, feeling oddly self-conscious for speaking aloud. "When I fought in the rift, I could feel myself getting stronger… like the energy was moving through me. But I couldn't see anything. Is there a way to know how much experience I'm getting mid-fight? I can't exactly yell 'Status' in front of everyone."
[I can activate real-time notifications, but I must warn you—they may obstruct your field of view during combat. Would you prefer aggregated updates instead? For instance, if you slay five monsters, I can summarize the total experience gained in a single message.]
"That's… actually perfect," Ael said. "Less distraction, more focus. Let's do it that way. Thanks—uh, do you have a name, or should I keep calling you 'System'?"
[You may call me System. I exist to guide you, not to be named.]
There was a brief pause before the tone shifted, a subtle gravity beneath the voice that hadn't been there before.
[You must understand something, Elyrion. You are not like others. You are the Vessel. Your strength determines the balance of this universe. If you fall, the universal core falls with you—and the universe will collapse within years, unable to sustain itself.]
The words sank into him like lead. He blinked once. Twice. "You're joking."
[I do not joke.]
Ael shot up from the bed. His pulse quickened; a thousand questions collided in his head, too fast to separate. "How—why me? I'm just—" His throat tightened. "I'm just some kid. I lost my dad. I barely understand mana—or whatever this Ether thing is in me—and now you're telling me if I die, the whole universe dies too?"
His voice cracked slightly. The thought was absurd. Unbearable.
He turned away from the window, staring at the floor as if answers might rise from the woodgrain. "Can't someone else… take this? The Vessel thing? Anyone stronger, older, smarter—someone who actually knows what they're doing?"
The silence stretched, thick and uneasy.
Then—
[There is no replacement. The universe has already chosen.]
The voice faltered—just for a moment—and a distorted echo rippled through his mind.
[The previous core… sacrificed itself. The transfer occurred before—]
Static cut through the words like shattered glass.
Ael clutched his head. "System?"
A second passed. Two. Then the voice returned, clearer yet distant, as though it now spoke from behind a veil.
[You are not yet strong enough to learn the truth. Power grants knowledge; without it, understanding becomes poison. Grow, and I will reveal what you seek. For now, accept this: there can be only one Vessel. And that is you.]
The system's tone softened as a faint ding echoed through the air.
A new window materialized in front of him, golden letters etched in glowing runes.
*New Quest Assigned*
─────────────────
Quests:
1- Reach level ten.
Rewards: System Upgrade, Memories
Ael stared at it. His heart still beat too fast, but curiosity began to push back against fear. "System upgrade, huh?"
He tried to focus on that instead—the reward, not the burden. "If you upgrade, that means… I get stronger? Or maybe new features?"
[That depends on you.]
"Right. And… what about the memories?" he asked, leaning forward. "Whose memories are they?"
A long pause.
[Wait until you complete the quest. There are no sneak peeks.]
Ael exhaled, half amused, half exasperated. "So you do have a personality."
[I am merely efficient.]
"Sure you are."
He grinned despite himself and dismissed the screen. The luminous panels faded, leaving him once again in the quiet warmth of his room. He rubbed his arms, still feeling that faint chill from earlier. Somewhere deep inside, the enormity of what the system had told him settled like a storm cloud that refused to move.
He wasn't just another Awakener. He was the axis of an entire universe.
That kind of weight could crush anyone—and yet, beneath the fear, something else stirred. A spark. A quiet, fierce determination.
"Alright," he whispered to himself, staring at his reflection in the faint glass of the window. "If the universe tied itself to me… then I'll make sure it doesn't regret it."
The reflection staring back at him looked older somehow—still the same Ael, but with a trace of purpose in his eyes.
He straightened, stretching the tension out of his shoulders. "Lyra's going to think I've gone insane if I tell her any of this."
He laughed softly, shaking his head. "Guess I'll stick to sparring and pretend everything's normal."
As he prepared for the day—pulling on his academy jacket, tightening his gloves—his thoughts still drifted to the system's last words. Grow stronger. Learn the truth.
He wondered what that truth would cost.
But for now, he had other things to focus on: training, learning, understanding this strange Ether that set him apart from everyone else.
And somewhere beyond the academy's stone walls, he could already imagine Lyra's voice calling out impatiently, flames sparking at her fingertips.
He smiled faintly. "Time to meet the Guild Master."
The morning light brightened as he stepped toward the door. For the briefest moment, it felt like the world itself was watching him—quietly waiting to see what he would become.