February 2nd, 3078
Sitting on the rooftop of a large house was a boy of 17 years. His body was lithe, tight muscles pressing against his black shirt. His hair was a chaotic, windswept mop of obsidian black. It was the kind of dark that felt heavy, absorbing the light around it. Resting on his sharp face were a pair of startling, translucent silver eyes. He was dressed in his best formal wear—a high-collared suit of dark charcoal that had belonged to his father.
While most boys his age spent their nights dreaming of becoming famous Rankers or watching highlights of dungeon raids on the network, Caelum spent his time on the roof.
The shingles were slate-grey and slippery with the evening mist, angled steeply enough to be dangerous, but the view from the Solace Estate was worth the risk.
From here, the Capital city of Astrea was a sprawling haze of light, patches of people so large that he could see them from here. But Caelum wasn't looking at the city. He was looking up.
"You're so bright tonight," he murmured, his breath fogging in the chilly air.
He was speaking to Sirius, the Dog Star.
The star in question hung in the southern sky, a piercing diamond of blue-white light. It was the brightest thing in the sky, dominating the lesser lights in an almost arrogant manner.
Taking in the sight of the rest of the stars, Caelum sighed in content. The universe was a thing of cold, beautiful indifference, and Caelum loved it.
He checked his watch. It was time. Standing up and stretching with a groan, Caelum walked back inside of the house, his mind busy as he headed to his car.
Today was the Awakening ceremony. The day the Gods decided if you were a hammer or a nail.
"Mom, Dad," he said to the empty house as he walked out the door. "Wish me luck."
Of course, his parents couldn't respond. They were SS-Rankers and generals of the Nightshade Kingdom. 7 years ago, they were lost in a rift that the royal family simply labeled as 'The Grey Drift.' Everyone said they were dead, lost forever in a closed gate. Caelum could feel it, though. They were just… stuck. Somehow.
As he stepped into the backseat of the car, he pressed his head against the window, watching the house fade away as the car started moving to the church.
________________________________________
About half an hour later, Cealum stepped out of his car, his butler and driver, Atrium at his side as he gazed up at the church.
"It's quite big, isn't it?" he said with a frown.
"Of course, young master. The Cathedral of the Sky was designed to make humans feel small. To remind them that no matter how high they climb and no matter what rank they reach, they will never be able to reach the gods. A bit humbling, really."
As they walked into the cathedral, Caelum studied it with mild interest. Vaulted ceilings stretched up into the shadows, supported by pillars of white marble, thick and tall. Stained glass windows depicted the three gods of this church: The Sun God, The Moon Goddess, and the Star Beast.
The air smelled of ozone and incense. Three hundred eighteen-year-olds stood in orderly rows, each either filled with worry or full of confidence.
Ahead of us, priests were shepherding people up to a podium where a statue was holding an orb in its hands.
See, awakening in this world can be both a natural and artificial process. Most people awaken using a crystal, a type of artifact that forces the latent power of your core to move through your mana circuit, essentially working to jump start your core's mana production and your circulation of said mana. The other way to awaken involves one of three things: Intense trauma that forces your core to awaken, longtime exposure to high levels of mana, or by assimilation with a legacy.
As the line moved and slowly dwindled down, there were a few who stood out.
There was Kaden Drake. Affinities are often tied to your bloodline, with the variations coming from you as a person, so it was no surprise when he awakened fire affinity. What was a surprise was that he awakened Phoenix Flames, a combination of fire and light affinity.
Another one was an elf girl. She was tall with pale skin. Her hair was white and had silver eyes so cold that they seemed to freeze whatever they froze upon. Elara Moonglow. Her family immigrated here from the homeland of the elves, Thyria. The women of her family have always awakened the Moon affinity without fail, so nobody was shocked when she did the same.
Eventually, his line ended and it was just him left.
"Caelum Solaris." The priest called out, his eyes flashing with recognition as the others who had already finished their awakening started to whisper. It's to be expected, considering how important his parents were.
Caelum kept his chin up as he walked up the stairs to the crystal. It doesn't matter what I get, he told himself. Fire, water, wind. I'll take anything.
The High Priest, a man with eyes like polished flint, gestured to the clear crystal sphere.
"Place your hand," the Priest said, bored.
Caelum took a breath. He reached out.
His palm made contact with the cold glass.
For a second, nothing happened. Then, the reaction came.
There wasn't a burst of red flames like with Kaden. There wasn't a burst of green light. What there was though was darkness. The sphere suddenly filled with inky darkness, the kind so black that it seems like it swallows all light. And in the center of that darkness, tiny, sharp pinpricks of silver light ignited, glowing like embers in the abyss. These pinpricks didn't glow warmly; they pierced the eye. They were cold, distant, and incredibly sharp.
At that moment, the system interface, something that emerged with the appearance of mana a few hundred years ago, opened in front of me.
[
Name- Caelum Solace
Race- Human
Rank- E
Bloodline: None
Traits- Stella Fortuna
Affinity- Star
Talent- Undetermined]
The gathered crowd had fallen silent at this point, confusion.
"Star Affinity," the Priest announced, his voice impressed. He furiously scribbled something on his parchment as the crowd was filled with gasps and light mummering. "There hasn't been a star affinity recorded since Saint Stella. You're going to be especially famous when this reaches the castle, boy."
Caelum wasn't paying attention to the crowd anymore, though. He was fixated on the orb, watching the last of those silver embers fade back into the glass.
Star Affinity.
A slow, disbelieving grin crawled onto his face. He knew the stories—everyone did. Saint Stella hadn't just been a hero; she had been a force of nature. It was said that when she clashed with the Saint of Night from the demon continent, the sheer collision of their souls had carved a wound into the earth that never healed. To this day, that forbidden zone burned with unending silver flames, a luminous scar visible even from the upper atmosphere.
And now, he held that same spark.
"And now for the Talent test," the Priest commanded, gesturing toward the Talent Orb he now held.
Caelum turned his gaze to the jagged piece of quartz. This was the final hurdle. Everybody has at least one Affinity that determines the 'flavor' of a person's power. But Talent was chef. It was a unique manifestation of an individual's soul, shaped by their experiences, their mindset, and the very essence of their soul. Not everybody has one, though. A talent is also one of the things required to ascend to S-Rank later on, as you either need a Soul affinity or a talent in order to sense your soul and start shedding your mortality fully.
Caelum stepped toward the Talent orb, his heart pounding like a drum.
The air in the Cathedral had changed. The bored silence was gone, replaced by a low, electric hum of whispers. Saint Stella. The name hung in the air like a ghost. The priest was leaning forward now, his eyes wide, gripping his quill so hard in anticipation that the wood groaned. After a hundred years, the star affinity had appeared again. In the son of two of the most famous SS-Rankers of the last generation, no less.
Caelum reached out. His fingers trembled slightly as they touched the rough surface of the orb.
Give me something, he pleaded internally. I already have the affinity. Give me something, anything. I'll make it work.
He closed his eyes, waiting for the surge. He waited for the System to sound, to give him a notification again. To tell him what talent he awakened.
One second passed. The orb was cold.
Three seconds. The murmuring of the crowd began to die down, replaced by a suffocating, expectant silence.
Five seconds. Caelum probed inside of himself, using his memory of his father's descriptions of mana circulation to push mana into the stone, his eyes sharpening in concentration as he manages to make it start flowing inside. He poured every drop of his mana he could into the orb, internally begging for anything.
Ten seconds passed.
The orb remained a dull, lethargic grey. It didn't glow. It didn't hum. It sat there, a dead piece of rock.
The silence in the Cathedral shifted from expectant to awkward, and then to something sharper—pity.
"No reaction," the Priest whispered, the excitement draining from his face like water from a cracked bowl. He looked at the orb, then at Caelum, then back at the orb. He tapped the quartz with his quill as if checking to see if it was broken. It wasn't.
"Talent Assessment..." the Priest paused, clearing his throat. The "castle" he had mentioned moments ago seemed to vanish from his mind. "Talentless."
Caelum's hand stayed on the stone. He felt a cold hollow opening up in his chest, a vacuum that swallowed the grin he had been wearing moments before. It felt like falling in a dream—that sudden, heart-stopping lurch when the ground disappears.
"Talentless?" Caelum asked, his voice sounding small in the vast hall. "I can't be null… I just… Fuck…"
The Priest sighed, the excitement in his eyes replaced by disappointment. He waved a hand toward the exit, already looking toward the next student in line.
"I'm sorry, boy. Looks like you'll have to buy or find an artifact to unlock your talent. It'll be hard but… good luck."
Caelum withdrew his hand. The orb felt even colder than before. He looked at the crowd; the gasps had turned into disappointed head-shakes.
"Right," Caelum muttered, forcing a stiff, awkward nod. "Thank you. Have a good day."
He turned and walked down the marble steps, his boots echoing in the sudden, lonely space of the hall.