Alistair froze, his eyes widening as he watched deep red flames wrap around the dagger in Ronan's hand. The fire wasn't just hot—it moved with calm, controlled intensity. Too calm.
This wasn't ordinary channeling.
This… was perfect.
And he did it in just a few minutes.
Alistair exhaled slowly, still trying to process what he'd just seen. "You actually did it, but… how?" he asked hesitantly, eyes locked on Ronan, who now stood tall, a look of quiet satisfaction on his face.
Ronan gave a relaxed smirk and replied, "I don't know, Mr. Crowne. I just imagined it the way you explained… and it worked. Thanks to you, I have this skill now."
Alistair remained silent. What he'd taught earlier was just the basics—a foundation. Simple theory. But this kid… he didn't just learn it—he mastered it.
"Sometimes… it's just a fluke," he finally said, trying to rationalize. "It takes a long time to really control energy channeling."
"Really?" Ronan deactivated the Starflame on his dagger, then reactivated it. Once. Twice. Three times. The flame flickered on and off smoothly, like he was toying with a lighter.
Ronan was already figuring it out—his system responded to actions as triggers. As long as there was a slight push, the system would recognize the pattern as a skill. Once recognized, it was permanently locked in as his.
For most awakeners, skills emerged randomly, often triggered by extreme situations, hard to repeat or control because they were born from accidents. But for Ronan, any skill triggered through the system could be accessed again. Anytime. Limitlessly.
Alistair stared, stunned. His mouth hung slightly open, like he wanted to speak but couldn't find the right words. This kid… wasn't an ordinary awakener.
His expression hardened, more serious now. He clapped Ronan on the shoulder—firm and meaningful. "Seriously, who are you, really? What's your full name?"
"Ronan Raylinde."
Alistair frowned. The name was unfamiliar. Way too unfamiliar.
"Ronan Raylinde…" He searched his memory, scanning through names of the old families. But nothing. The name didn't show up.
"Don't tell me… you're not from a hidden bloodline? With your talent, you have to be. At least on par with the Wolfsbanes or the Hawkins… or even the Edenfields."
Ronan shook his head. "No. I'm an orphan. And, in fact, I'm poor."
Alistair looked at him like he'd just heard the most ridiculous joke. "What? You serious?" He paused, then added, "You know what, I met Victor Edenfield once—youngest top-ranked awakener for three weeks straight. The kid's gifted. I thought he was the brightest star I'd ever seen… until I met you. Your talent—it's no exaggeration to call you a genius."
Ronan gave a small smile, then shook his head. "You're exaggerating, Mr. Crowne. Compared to Victor Edenfield? I've still got a long way to go."
Alistair nodded, though there was still a flicker of awe in his eyes. "Yeah, fair point. But still… I like you. You say you're poor and an orphan? How about joining me? I'll make sure the word 'poor' disappears from your life."
Ronan turned toward him slowly. "What do you mean?"
Instead of answering, Alistair stroked the ring on his left hand. A soft glow appeared, and from it, an elegant name card appeared in his palm. He handed it to Ronan.
Ronan glanced at the ring. A spatial ring. Insanely expensive—and incredibly useful. He'd love to have one.
But his attention quickly shifted to the name card. His hand paused. His eyes narrowed, scanning the writing closely.
"You're… the Head of the Research and Technology Department of KRAKEN, Lincoln branch?" he asked, barely able to believe it, though his voice was steady.
Alistair smiled proudly. "That's me. And that's why I want you to join. Be my assistant. One million dollars for the initial contract. Weekly pay… quite a lot. Very much."
Ronan fell silent. One million dollars. That was hard to turn down. But in his mind, he knew—with his system, his power, he could get more. Way more.
"Sorry. I have to decline, Mr. Crowne."
Alistair looked at him for a moment, then took a breath. "Five million. Plus a spatial ring, an S-rank weapon, and an S-rank skill scroll. I'll need time, but I'll get them for you."
Ronan stiffened. This… was getting insane.
"You're not serious, are you?" he asked softly, eyes guarded.
"I've never been this serious. And you're only the second person I've ever made this offer to. Curious who the first was? Victor Edenfield."
Ronan stared at him silently. Even his breathing was nearly imperceptible.
"Still," he finally said, "this is all just because I mastered one skill. That's ridiculous. What makes you think I'm worth all this?"
Alistair responded immediately, "See? That's why I'm offering. You're not tempted right away—you're thinking critically. You know your value, but you're cautious. That's not just a sign of strength and awareness… that's someone who knows how to survive in this world."
Ronan said nothing.
"I'm good at reading people, believe me. When I first asked your name, you looked at me with guarded eyes. Like you could see right through me. You've got something special, Ronan. Incredible potential. And I'm never wrong."
Ronan truly fell silent now. Not just because of the words, but because the offer was… tempting. Very tempting.
With all that, his life could change completely. No more cramped beds, leaky roofs, broken faucets, or pedaling for hours just to get to school or the secondhand shop.
But… the price would be his freedom. He'd be tied to the KRAKEN tech division, and it wouldn't just be for a year or two.
Ronan closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, his resolve returned.
"Still… I have to refuse, Mr. Crowne. I don't want to be tied to anything. Not yet."
Alistair exhaled. Instead of disappointed, he smiled and patted Ronan's shoulder. "I knew you'd say no. People like you have ambition. You want more than this. And I'm not saying that's a bad thing. But let me give you some advice—whatever it is you're chasing, don't lose yourself along the way."
Ronan nodded. "I'll remember that."
Alistair nodded back. "Good. Now help me, will you? Carry my granddaughter to the car. It's five kilometers from here. If I push myself, my back might snap."
"No problem," Ronan answered casually.
He approached Zara, still unconscious, and checked the backpack on her shoulders, making sure nothing was left behind.
Step by step, they left the forest clearing behind.
---
Twenty minutes later, they reached Alistair's vehicle—a sturdy, dust-covered off-road car with reinforced windows and an engine that still purred like a beast despite its age.
Ronan gently opened the back door and laid Zara across the seats, careful not to bend her limbs awkwardly or aggravate her injuries. Her breathing was steady, though her face remained pale and scratched.
Throughout the walk, Ronan had to battle strange thoughts. He was sure Zara was a year or two younger than him. But even battered and bloodied, her body was… tempting. And that made him feel like a scumbag, but at least he was honest about it. He was aware—and didn't act on it.
Alistair, standing by the car and opening the front door, seemed to sense something. He turned and grinned. "What do you think of my granddaughter?"
Ronan looked at him for a moment, then shrugged. "I won't lie… she's beautiful."
Alistair chuckled, strolling over as if weightless. "You know," he said casually, though his eyes said otherwise, "if you play your cards right, you two could end up together. I'd even give my blessing. Seal of approval, straight from Grandpa."
He paused for dramatic effect, then added with a teasing nod, "But, of course… with one condition. Join my department. Think of it as… a package deal."
Ronan sighed, half amused, half annoyed. "Come on, Mr. Crowne, don't bring that up again."
Alistair laughed. "Fine, fine."
Then the mood shifted, settling into a quieter tone. Alistair gazed at the forest behind them. The air was misting up, the cold creeping in as gray clouds gathered above.
"I can't imagine what would've happened if you hadn't shown up. Things could've gone… much worse," he said softly, voice heavy with sincerity.
Ronan shrugged and offered a faint smile. "I believe in destiny."
Alistair looked at him for a moment, then nodded. "Destiny, huh? Maybe so."
"By the way," he added, "don't think of that dagger or the soul stones as repayment. My life's worth more than that. I can't repay you now… but if you ever need anything, call me or visit the address on that card. I promise—I'll help you, no matter what."
Ronan nodded, smiling. "I'll remember that."
Alistair held out his hand. "Once again, thank you. And nice to meet you, Ronan Raylinde."
Ronan shook it firmly. "Me too, Mr. Crowne. Safe travels."
Alistair climbed into the car, started the engine, and drove off. The taillights faded behind the tall trees.
Ronan stood there, watching them go. Then, slowly, he pulled the name card from his pocket. The light from the card glowed faintly as he spun it between his fingers.
A strange grin crept onto his face. "I could use this."
To be honest, he hadn't even planned to help. When he first saw them from a distance, his thoughts immediately went dark—rob them.
Tactical gear, special weapons, cornered situation, deep in the woods with no witnesses. That was tempting. But something about them made him wait… and it turned out his instincts were right.
He'd hit the jackpot.
The Head of KRAKEN's Research and Tech Division.
That wasn't just any title. That department didn't just research dimensional rifts—they created the tech and weapons that powered the entire awakener world.
Soul reactors, mana batteries, enchanted armor, dimensional pocket gear, even hybrid weapons with skills stored in runes. All of that… came from them.
And now, the head of that department… owed him a life.
"That's one hell of a connection," Ronan muttered, slipping the card back into his wallet.
He looked up at the sky. The sun wasn't high yet, but its rays pierced through the leaves, sharp and blinding. The forest breeze was gentle, carrying the scent of damp earth and the fading stench of drying soul beast blood in the grass.
"God really blessed me this time."