The village of Eldoria rested in a valley cradled by towering mountains, its borders hugging vast forests that stretched endlessly beyond the horizon. Unlike the grand cities of Arathis, where towering castles and sprawling academies trained warriors of legendary power, Eldoria was simple—a place of farmers, blacksmiths, merchants, and hunters.
Life here moved at a steady rhythm. The mornings were filled with the sounds of roosters crowing and merchants preparing their stalls in the village square. The scent of fresh bread and roasted meats drifted through the air as families gathered for breakfast. A winding river cut through the land, providing water to the farmlands that stretched beyond the village's edge. The people of Eldoria were hardworking, honest folk—but they were also bound by a deep reverence for power.
Because in this world, power was everything.
The land of Arathis was shaped by the blessings of the gods, each deity bestowing their favour upon mortals. Some were born with power—the Awakened—while others had to train relentlessly to earn their abilities. Regardless of how one obtained their gift, there were three stages of growth:
Awakening – The first stage, where an individual receives their power. Those born Awakened had an innate mastery of their gift, while those who trained hard enough could unlock it in a moment of great struggle or danger.Ascendence – The second stage, where one gained a second power, unrelated to the first, and a deeper control over their abilities.Transascendence – The final stage, where mastery over one's power reached its peak, allowing one to stand among the greatest warriors and legends of history.
But none of this mattered to Aiden Varian, because he had yet to even reach the first step.
At thirteen years old, he was still powerless, an anomaly in a world where strength dictated one's worth.
Aiden walked through the village streets; the dirt road uneven beneath his worn leather boots. He carried a woven basket filled with herbs and vegetables, fresh from the forest where he spent his mornings gathering supplies for his mother.
He passed by familiar sights—the blacksmith's forge, where Master Garrick, a burly man with a thick beard, hammered away at glowing steel; the tailor's shop, where rolls of colourful fabric hung from the windows; and the central square, where merchants loudly advertised their goods.
The people greeted each other with warm smiles, but when their eyes landed on Aiden, the warmth faded.
"That's the Varian boy… still hasn't Awakened, huh?"
"A warrior with no power is nothing."
"Such a shame. His mother was a great warrior once… now she raises a failure."
"Bruh, I can hear ya you old folks" Aiden thought to himself. and yet he ignored the whispers.
He had learned to.
His destination was a small wooden house near the village's edge. Unlike the grand stone homes of the wealthier families, Aiden's home was modest—one floor, a small garden, and a forge that hadn't been used in years.
Inside, the comforting scent of warm broth and fresh bread filled the air. His mother, Marielle Varian, stood over a small stove, stirring a pot of soup. She was once a legendary warrior, an Ascendant-ranked fighter whose name was known beyond Eldoria. But after an injury forced her to retire, she chose to live a quiet life, raising her son alone.
"You're back early," she said with a smile as he entered.
"Didn't feel like staying out too long," he replied, setting the basket down.
Marielle studied him for a moment, her knowing gaze seeing through the mask he wore. She knew about the whispers, the pitying looks, the ridicule. But she never spoke of it, never pressured him.
"You've been training hard for the entrance exam at the academy," she said, placing a bowl of soup in front of him. "No matter what others say, keep pushing forward. Your time will come."
Aiden nodded but remained silent. Deep down, he wasn't sure if he believed her anymore.
After eating, Aiden left home and made his way to the Eldoria Training Academy, an academy built to help newcomers get into the famous UNIVERSITY OF HIGHER MAGIC built for young warriors. Though it was smaller than the massive institutions in the capital, it was still an impressive structure—a circular stone building with an open courtyard where students practiced their abilities.
The academy grounds were alive with activity. Young warriors sparred with one another, their powers on full display—flames crackled, water surged, the earth trembled, and lightning flashed.
Aiden had no power to wield, but he still trained. Hand-to-hand combat, swordplay, tactics—he refused to fall behind.
He was already seen as weak; he would not allow himself to be useless.
Among the students, only one treated him as an equal—Elara Noctis.
The Only Friend He Had
With long dark hair and piercing violet eyes, Elara possessed the power of shadows. She moved like a phantom, her abilities allowing her to disappear into darkness and strike from unseen angles. While others mocked Aiden, she stood beside him.
"You look tired," she noted as he approached.
"Same as always," he muttered.
She smirked. "Still brooding, huh? You should smile more. It makes people less likely to think you'll snap one day and set the village on fire."
Aiden chuckled. "Would be hard to do without powers."
Her smile faded slightly. "You know that doesn't matter to me, right? We will be friends even if you never awaken."
He looked away, unsure how to respond.
They trained together for a while—Aiden relying on pure skill while Elara danced through shadows. He knew he was at a disadvantage, but he refused to give up.
Yet, deep inside, the fear remained.
"What if I actually never Awaken? What if I'm nothing more than a powerless boy in a world of gods and warriors?"
As the sun dipped below the horizon and the sky turned shades of orange and purple, Aiden stared up at the heavens. Somewhere beyond those clouds, the gods watched over the world, deciding who was worthy of power and who was not.
And so far, they had ignored him.