Kai felt it—the slow, deliberate strengthening of his body. Meditation had become as natural to him as breathing. Night after night, he sat in silence, hidden beneath the Veil, gently cycling mana through his body. The results were undeniable. His muscles were lean, and compact, and held surprising density for a child. He could lift himself on one arm, balance with ease, and run faster than most kids twice his age.
He didn't show it, of course. Not openly. But he could feel the difference.
And so could his mana.
With quiet pride, Kai glanced at his status screen. The number was clear: 1025 mana, unawakened. It was subtle, building slowly under his carefully hidden potential, but to him, it was undeniable proof—he was progressing.
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STATUS: NOT AWAKENED
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NAME:Kai
AGE: 5
RANK:----[ POTENTIAL_S-RANK ]
level : 0
Mana:1025/1025
█ ATTRIBUTES
- Strength: 22/100
- Agility: 22/100
- Vitality: 22/100
- Intelligence: 27/100
- Wisdom: 25/100
- Perception: 25/100
- Charm: 17
- Luck: 10
█ SKILLS
-veil (- Ex -):
Type: Passive / Active (Mana Consuming)
A supreme concealment skill that hides all traces of one's true potential, abilities, mana signature, and status even from the most advanced detection or appraisal skills. Unless consciously lowered further, it automatically masks the user's projected rank as F. Even SS-Rank Appraisal can't break through. No one knows how this skill was created — it simply exists beyond known systems. Ultimate stealth ability.
Current Limitations (Awakening not yet achieved):
Cannot use Ultimate Stealth
Mana Consumption:
2 mana per activation
- Script Master (F-Rank): The ability to adapt
Type: Passive
writing and scripting styles with perfect accuracy.
Considered "worthless" in combat situations.
- Eye For Worth (SS-Rank):
Type: Passive / Active (Mana Consuming)
Allows the user to identify the worth of objects and people by revealing a unique color.
Warm Yellow: Indicates positive value, good intentions, or beneficial traits.
Dark Red: Indicates negative value, danger, or harmful traits.
Current Limitations (Awakening not yet achieved):
Only shows the color aura (yellow or red) without additional detailed appraisal.
Mana Consumption:
Uses 0.5 mana per activation.
█ EXPERIENCE: 0/100
█ STATUS: Healthy
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The orphanage had become a bustle of activity.
With the official Awakening Day fast approaching, everyone was busy. Staff moved quickly, organizing forms and coordinating with the New Healers Association. Inspectors came and went. Magic-suppression fields were tested and retested. Even the older children were helping clean up the grounds, scrubbing walls and tidying classrooms.
Kai, of course, joined in—quietly and efficiently. He helped gather scattered toys after the younger children finished playing, folded blankets, and even organized the scribbled colouring sheets into neat little piles.
One of the caretakers, a gentlewoman named Lila, smiled as she watched him stack the blocks with meticulous precision.
"You're always so helpful, Kai," she said softly, kneeling beside him. "You don't have to do all this, you know."
Kai glanced up, brushing a few strands of hair from his eyes. "I like helping," he said simply. "Makes things easier for everyone."
Lila chuckled. "You talk like an old man sometimes. You're five."
He tilted his head. "Then I must be a very helpful five-year-old."
She laughed and ruffled his hair. "Yes, you are."
Socially, things weren't always as smooth. Most kids his age still struggled with full sentences, let alone writing. Kai, on the other hand, could speak fluently, read effortlessly, and had memorized the entire beginner's language chart. It made conversation awkward. Forced.
He tried, though.
Once, he sat near the swings, watching two boys argue about who could throw a stick farther. He approached, holding a leaf he'd folded into a tiny bird.
"Want to see something cool?" he asked.
One of the boys, curious, leaned over. "Is that… a bird?"
Kai nodded. "Paper-folded. It flaps when you blow on it."
They stared at him blankly for a moment, then shrugged and went back to their argument.
Eventually, he managed to befriend a few of the quieter children—those who didn't mind sitting in silence or sharing fruit without too much chatter. It was enough.
Security around the orphanage noticeably increased as the ceremony approached. Mana-sensitive barriers were put in place, and adults whispered more often than usual. Kai noticed new faces in plain clothes watching the perimeter.
Nurse Renna, a kind woman with tired eyes and a heart far too soft, caught him observing the guards one day from the window.
"Don't worry, sweetheart," she said, crouching beside him. "It's just the usual inspection work. Happens every year."
And then… the day finally arrived.
.......
Awakening Day.
The air inside the orphanage was heavy with excitement and nerves. Caretakers rushed from room to room, straightening collars, checking cuffs, tying hair back into neat buns or combing it flat with gentle fingers. Even the most unruly kids stood still, sensing the importance of the moment.
The courtyard had been cleared. Clean white banners bearing the seal of the Terranova council, Beijing prime and New Healers Association fluttered from poles lining the perimeter, their runes softly glowing in the morning light. In a large hall stage had been set up near the centre, where a team of officials, mages, and staff stood ready—clipboards in hand, eyes constantly scanning.
More than 1000 children stood in line age-wise, some bouncing with nervous energy, others completely still.
Most of them were five.
Some were ten—older kids rescued from the war-torn outer regions, their eyes shadowed with things no child should've seen. The orphanage had taken them in, fed them, clothed them, and given them names if they didn't have one. But now, they stood in the same line as the younger ones… waiting.
The rules had changed.
In the past, children would awaken at seven—when their bodies were more stable and their minds more developed. But lately, things have shifted. Five years old was the new standard.
Too early for most, but perfect for others.
Perfect for organizations that wanted to swoop in and snatch up talent before it could think for themselves. Before it could choose.
"Easy to mold when they're still soft," Kai thought, watching the line quietly.
He didn't look nervous. Just calm. Focused.
"Big day, huh?" Nurse Renna's voice drifted beside him. She knelt down and adjusted the collar of his plain shirt. "You look sharp."
"Thanks," Kai said. He paused. Then added softly, "You think I'll be alright?"
She blinked, then smiled. "You'll be perfect. Doesn't matter what the numbers say."
A different child might have asked her to promise. But Kai just nodded.
Sophie wasn't here.
The founder and quiet force behind the orphanage, she usually made an appearance on Awakening Day—if only briefly. A small smile, a few kind words, and then she'd vanish into her work. But this time, there was no sign of her. No word either.
Instead, other faces showed up.
High-ranking ones.
At the edge of the courtyard, standing apart from the caretakers, was a tall man in a crisp dark coat. His presence alone pulled eyes. Silver-trimmed mage uniform. Crest of the Mage Corps stitched over his shoulder.
Vice Commander Lu Han.
Kai's eyes settled on him for just a moment.
Sharp features. Relaxed posture. That same unreadable smirk.
Slippery bastard.
He recognized him instantly.
A Rank-A hunter. Cunning. Calculated. He'd once slipped through Kai's fingers during a contracted hit—not because he overpowered him, but because he outplayed him.
Everyone knew three children had already been flagged with high potential during early evaluations.
The Corps wanted first picks.
They always did.
"Why's a vice commander at a place like this?" one of the younger staff whispered, not noticing Kai nearby.
"Three possible A-ranks," the older woman beside him muttered back. "That's why. He's not here for show."
Then the actual ceremony began. A woman in bright ceremonial robes—chosen more for appearance than authority—stood up with a glowing scroll in her hand.
She smiled.
Too much.
"Little stars of tomorrow," she began, her voice warm and melodic, "today marks the first step toward your destiny! In your hands, you carry the hopes of humanity. The Council watches, the heavens bless—"
Kai turned her out by the third line.
Nothing but propaganda. Dress it up in light and smile, but it's still the same sales pitch.
Most of the kids were too young to understand, of course. They clapped when prompted, some looking around, confused but excited. One boy next to Kai tried to mimic a salute and nearly poked his own eye.
Then came the mana liquid.
Each child received a small, ornate cup with dark gold contents—concentrated, purified mana essence designed to stimulate the awakening process.
It had a sweet honey-like taste.
After drinking, they were guided to place their hand on a large, mirror-like crystal, several of them positioned at the centre of the stage. The Awakening Crystal. Its surface was still and reflective until touched—then it would flare, dim, or ripple depending on the child's innate potential and elemental affinity.
Kai stepped forward when his name was called.
He moved with calm, steady steps—not nervous, not hesitant. Just quiet.
He didn't stand out in the way some children did—not loud, not overly shy. But when he stood in front of the crystal, a few glanced up anyway.
Dark hair, neatly combed. Dark eyes—clear and steady. His features were soft, but striking. Even now, at just five years old, his face carried a calm kind of beauty. Unusual, even in a crowd like this. His build was lean, slightly taller than the average five-year-old. Upright posture. Clean movements.
He didn't look at the officials. Just the crystal.
He pressed his palm against its smooth surface.
There was a soft flicker. A faint glow.
Gray-blue. Neutral. Undistinguished.
"No elemental affinity," came a quiet note from the nearest appraiser. "F-rank potential."
The clipboard was marked. No one looked twice.
Kai lowered his hand and stepped back, face blank.
One of the caretakers clapped softly as he returned. "Well done, Kai."
He gave a small nod.
Nothing in his expression changed.
One by one, the children stepped up to the stage. Some walked tall. Others needed soft encouragement from the caretakers behind them. A few looked close to tears—but they still stepped forward.
Then came the colors.
A bright orange flare—"Mid-B Potential," someone murmured, jotting down the reading.
Another crystal pulsed golden-yellow. "High-B," came the next call. Eyes followed the girl back to the crowd.
Applause, then whispers.
And then—blue-white.
Sharp, cold, clean. The crystal pulsed violently, the air around it briefly crackling.
"Low-A Potential," one of the appraisers said aloud. "Lightning Affinity."
A boy with short, spiky hair stood in the center of the stage, blinking like he wasn't sure what had just happened. His legs shook.
Another burst of light not long after. Then a third. More controlled. More focused.
Three confirmed A-Rank potentials, by the time the hundredth child stepped down.
The officials were already circling.
Meanwhile, a growing line of B-ranks followed—seven, eight, maybe more. Most of the adults watching had never seen this many gathered in one place.
Out of the nearly a thousand children here today, the numbers were already impressive.
And still, the process didn't slow.
For many, the crystal stayed dim—flickering grey-blue.
F-Rank. No affinity.
No celebration.
But no shame either.
Because for every whispered appraisal and formal scribble on a clipboard, there was a cheer from a caretaker. A hug. A soft "You did so well!" as the child stepped down.
The numbers might decide their future.
But at this moment, every single one of them was seen.