Reno stood on the stone floor of the Hall of the Data Guild, his heart pounding so hard it felt as if everyone around could hear it. The messenger, a tall man in a gray uniform bearing the guild's emblem, regarded him and the other children with a stern gaze. All the other ten-year-olds sat on the benches, their eyes shining with fear and excitement.
"Reno Mizaria," began the messenger, and the hall fell silent again, "your skill…"
For a moment, Reno felt a strange warmth in his chest. It was soft but insistent, as if an invisible hand whispered to him: You can. He stepped forward, and the messenger continued:
"…Erogod Lv. 1."
At first, Reno didn't understand. The word sounded like a spell, and his body tensed. The hall froze, every gaze fixed on him. A skill… Erogod?
"Erogod," the messenger repeated, "is a special skill. It allows you to manipulate the arousal of living beings. If they fail to control it, they become slaves to their own bodies, and their souls, along with their skills, come under the master's command."
A low, suppressed hiss ran through the hall. Some children blinked, others twisted their faces, unsure of what it meant.
Reno clenched his fists. His eyes swept over the room. He saw surprise, confusion, and fear on the others' faces. No one knew what to do with Erogod—but he understood immediately: this was no toy. This was a skill of power and control, and misuse could be dangerous.
"Uh… how does it work?" Reno's voice was quiet, almost a whisper, but it carried.
"Almost immediately," said the messenger. "The effect manifests when your will is focused on a target. You can amplify the arousal of creatures around you, and if they cannot cope—they obey. The effect spreads to both physical and mental states, to bodies and their skills. Use with caution."
A strange curiosity stirred within Reno. He didn't feel any desire to hurt anyone; there was no malice, only an awareness of enormous responsibility. He thought of his mother, Gira, and her fluid movements in dance, her control over herself. If he couldn't control himself—this skill could turn against him.
"I understand," he said, lifting his head. "I… will try."
The messenger nodded.
"Good. The first test—on simple creatures. Small bugs from the training spheres will enter the room. Respond accordingly."
The door creaked open, and small, strange creatures slithered in. They looked like shiny-skinned slimes, tiny and twitching. The children recoiled, but Reno stepped forward. He focused.
He felt a strange flow of energy around him, a subtle pressure on his consciousness. He didn't command or move abruptly—he simply directed his attention to the slimes. One shivered, as if listening. The others followed. Then something happened that surprised him: they began to obey, gradually lining up, following his gaze.
"Good," said the messenger, noticing. "You are controlling the skill at a basic level. The effect is weak, but stable."
Reno stepped back a pace to test the boundaries. He mentally sent a signal to the slimes: Stop. They froze, motionless. He released his focus—they moved again.
"The skill… it reacts to the master's attention and will," Reno said aloud. "The more focused I am, the more control I have."
"Correct," the messenger nodded. "At this level, your power is still limited. You can control small creatures by concentrating intensely on each. Over time, with practice, the range and strength of the effect will grow."
A rush of confidence surged through Reno. His eyes scanned the hall, and he noticed some children shivering, as if feeling a strange pressure. His attention accidentally touched a boy nearby, who struggled to contain his embarrassment. The boy jerked back. Reno averted his gaze, his heart racing: the skill's power was tangible, but he had yet to fully master it.
"Understood," he said, trying to steady his breathing. "I will be careful."
The messenger nodded.
"The next test—in interaction with others. Children will enter the hall one by one. Your task is to maintain control and prevent the skill from going beyond its bounds."
The first boy stepped in, tensed slightly, as if expecting an attack. Reno focused. He felt the flow of energy between them. Another moment—and the boy involuntarily smiled, then froze, as if under hypnosis. Reno quickly released his attention, and the boy came back to himself.
"Excellent," said the messenger. "You understand boundaries and reaction speed. The effect is weak, but precise. In practice, this means that if someone fails to control their body and emotions—you will control the situation."
Reno nodded. A strange relief washed over him: the first experience had gone well. He realized the skill was not just power—it was a tool. A tool that demanded discipline and precision.
When the trials ended, the children dispersed, whispering and exchanging impressions. Some tried to look into Reno's eyes, but he kept his distance, not yet ready to reveal the full extent of his skill.
"Mom," he said, finally stepping outside to where Gira waited, "it's done. I… I realized how strong it is."
Gira smiled, gently taking his shoulder.
"The strongest power, Reno, is to control yourself. Everything else will come with time. You did well."
"But…" he hesitated, "it's… dangerous if used incorrectly."
"Danger is always near," she said, wrapping her arm around him. "But I know you. You will control it, not let the skill control you."
They walked through the streets of the city. Markets, smithies, shops—the whole Milezian city pulsed with life, and in every corner, opportunity lurked. Reno felt a strange mix of emotions: pride, curiosity, and a hint of fear. The skill gave power, but the responsibility was enormous.
"Mom, what if someone finds out… that I'm an Erogod?" he asked, looking at Gira.
"Don't worry," she replied calmly. "In Mileziana, every skill is a secret until the master chooses to reveal it. Use it wisely, Reno. The world obeys those who can control themselves and their power."
Reno nodded. His gaze lifted to the sky. In Mileziana, every day was both a struggle and a chance. A skill is a tool, but the key is will and knowing how to use it. He understood: if he lost control—the skill would turn against him. If he mastered it—possibilities would open that most people could never dream of.
"I will learn, Mom," he said quietly, almost to himself, "so I don't make mistakes."
Gira smiled, her gaze full of pride and a touch of worry. She knew her son was stepping onto the path of power that would change his life forever.
Reno took a deep breath. His breathing steadied. Erogod Lv. 1—a skill that could alter the course of life. He felt strength, control, and potential, but he knew this was only the beginning. There would be fear, temptation, mistakes, but also the potential to turn a poor boy from Mileziana into something far greater.
He stepped forward, and the city—noisy, alive, full of people and dangers—seemed to accept him as the new master of his power.