The world swam back into focus, not with the familiar, blurry edges of waking from a fever, but with an unnerving, crystalline clarity. Six-year-old Kaelen lay on his thin straw pallet in the corner of the Oakhaven orphanage dormitory, the rough wool blanket scratching against his cheek. The high fever that had gripped him for three days, leaving him delirious and weak, had finally broken. But something was different. Terribly, wonderfully different.
Hovering at the edge of his vision, like motes of dust catching sunlight where no sunlight existed, was… text. Faint, translucent blue letters and numbers that seemed overlaid onto reality itself.
Kaelen blinked. The text remained. He rubbed his eyes furiously, but the strange blue writing persisted, unwavering. He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again. Still there. Panic began to bubble in his small chest. Was the fever still addling his brain? Was he seeing things? He'd heard tales from Old Man Hemlock, the village storyteller, of mischievous sprites and illusions caused by lingering wild magic in the Whispering Woods, but this felt… internal. Part of him.
He cautiously looked around the long, drafty dormitory. Dawn was breaking, casting weak grey light through the high, narrow windows. Other orphans stirred on their pallets, coughing or muttering in their sleep. Matron Hilda would be banging the wake-up gong soon. No one else seemed to notice the strange writing Kaelen saw. It was only for him.
Inner Sanctum System? Host? Level? Stats? Mana? The words were mostly unfamiliar, save for Mana. Everyone in Oakhaven knew about Mana, the invisible energy that flowed through the world. Mages at the Baron's Keep used it for spells, the village priest, Father Michael, channeled it for blessings, and even simple folk possessed a tiny spark, allowing them to use enchanted tools or feel the presence of strong magic. Kaelen, however, had always felt… empty. When the other children played games, pretending to cast spells, Kaelen felt nothing, just a frustrating blankness where they described feeling a tingle or warmth.
Now, this… System… claimed he had Mana. 5 out of 5. It wasn't much, but it was something. And [Mana Sense]? He focused on the word, trying to understand. As he did, the world seemed to shift subtly. The faint grey light seemed to have threads of even fainter blue woven through it, swirling gently in the air, coalescing slightly around the sleeping forms of the other children, pooling more densely near the heavy oak door that led outside. He could see Mana, or at least, perceive it in a way he never had before. It was faint, crude, but undeniable. The System wasn't just writing; it was doing something to him.
Fear warred with a burgeoning, hesitant curiosity. What was this? A blessing from the gods? A trick of a demon? A strange aftereffect of the fever? His parents, lost years ago in the border skirmishes with the Northern Clans, had been simple folk, weavers by trade, with no known magical talent. He had no inheritance of power to explain this.
He thought about telling someone. Matron Hilda? She was stern, overworked, and had little patience for flights of fancy. She'd likely dismiss it as fever-dreams or give him extra chores for imagining things. Father Michael? The priest was kind, but spoke often of the dangers of unsanctioned magic, of whispers from dark places that could lead souls astray. Kaelen imagined the priest's kind face turning fearful, suspicious. No, telling anyone felt dangerous. This secret, whatever it was, had to be his alone.
He carefully sat up, the movement sending a wave of dizziness through him from the lingering weakness of the fever. The System interface remained steady. He focused on the stats. Strength 2, Dexterity 3, Constitution 2… they seemed terribly low. He was smaller and less sturdy than boys like Bram or Torvin, who always seemed to be roughhousing, their laughter echoing loudly in the yard while Kaelen preferred the quiet corners. Intelligence 5, Wisdom 4… were those better? He liked listening to Old Man Hemlock's stories, and Elder Elara, the herbalist, sometimes said he asked thoughtful questions. Charisma 3… that felt right. He wasn't good at making friends; the other orphans mostly ignored him or teased him for his quietness.
Level 0. Like the village's informal assessment of him. Useless. But the System implied growth. Your journey begins. How? How did he gain levels? How did he increase his Mana? How did he unlock those mysterious Class Paths?
The loud clang of Matron Hilda's gong reverberated through the dormitory, jolting Kaelen from his thoughts. "Up! Up, you lazy slugs! Morning chores won't do themselves!" her voice boomed from the hallway.
The other orphans groaned, slowly disentangling themselves from their blankets. Kaelen quickly slid off his pallet, his legs still shaky. He tried to act normal, to ignore the blue text shimmering at the edge of his sight, mimicking the sleepy reluctance of the others.
Chores were the usual drudgery. Fetching water from the village well, scrubbing floors, helping prepare the thin morning gruel. Kaelen focused on the tasks, trying to push the System to the back of his mind, terrified someone would notice him staring into space or reacting to the invisible interface. He kept his [Mana Sense] active, costing him a trickle of his precious Mana (
During a brief lull, while waiting for the water buckets to fill, Bram, a sturdy boy a year older than Kaelen, shoved him playfully. "Still looking half-dead, Kaelen? Thought that fever would carry you off for good."
Kaelen stumbled, his low Strength and Constitution making him easy to push around. "I'm fine," he mumbled, avoiding Bram's gaze.
"Fine? You look like a ghost!" Bram laughed, nudging his friend Torvin. "Maybe he is a ghost! Ooooooh!"
Kaelen flushed, lowering his head. He hated being the center of attention, especially negative attention. His Charisma (3) offered no help. He just wanted to disappear.
<[Stealth] skill suggested. Activate?> The System prompted silently.
Kaelen mentally focused. Yes. <[Stealth] activated. Cost: 1 Mana per minute.>
He instinctively shifted slightly, moving into the shadow cast by the well's stone structure, hunching his shoulders, making himself smaller, focusing intently on the dripping water spout. Bram and Torvin quickly lost interest, turning their attention to splashing water at each other.
It worked. The System… it actually worked. It cost Mana, but it helped him fade into the background. A tiny thrill, quickly suppressed, ran through him. This secret, this System, might be dangerous, but it was also… useful.
Later that day, after the meager midday meal, the orphans had a period of free time before afternoon tasks. Most ran out to the muddy village green to play tag or kick a worn leather ball. Kaelen, still feeling weak and wanting to conserve his dwindling Mana (
Elara, with her kind, wrinkled face and hands perpetually stained with earth and herbs, tolerated Kaelen's presence. He sometimes helped her with weeding or sorting dried leaves, and she, in turn, occasionally shared a piece of fruit or told him stories about the plants she tended. Her garden was a small sanctuary of peace and quiet.
He sat on a low stone bench, watching Elara carefully tend a patch of vibrant green herbs. He activated his [Mana Sense] again (
"You are quiet today, little shadow," Elara observed without looking up from her work. "The fever still clinging?"
"A little, Elder," Kaelen replied softly.
"Rest is the best cure for that," she said, snipping a few leaves from a plant. "And perhaps some Sunpetal tea later." She paused, then looked at him, her gaze surprisingly sharp. "You seem… different, somehow. Your eyes. Clearer. More… aware."
Kaelen froze. Could she tell? Did she sense the System? He quickly averted his gaze, focusing on a ladybug crawling on the bench. "The fever broke, Elder. I feel better."
Elara hummed thoughtfully, returning to her herbs. "Good. Strength is needed in Oakhaven." She held up one of the leaves she had snipped. "Do you know this one, Kaelen?"
He looked. A simple green leaf, slightly fuzzy. "No, Elder."
"This is Manafoil," she explained. "A common herb, but precious. When brewed or chewed, it helps restore one's inner mana, especially after exertion or illness. Even those with little spark, like us, can benefit a little." She offered him the leaf. "Chew it slowly. It might help settle your recovery."
Kaelen hesitated, then took the leaf. Manafoil. Could it restore the System's Mana? He popped it into his mouth. It had a slightly bitter, grassy taste. As he chewed, he felt a faint warmth spread through him, and the System interface updated.
It worked! The herb directly replenished his System's Mana pool! This was a revelation. Mana wasn't just some abstract number; it was tied to the real world, to the herbs Elara cultivated. If he could find more Manafoil, or other mana-restoring items…
"Thank you, Elder," he said, feeling genuinely grateful.
"Think nothing of it, child," Elara smiled gently. "Now, tell me, while you rest, what stories did Old Man Hemlock fill your head with yesterday? Anything about the Sunken City this time?"
Kaelen spent the rest of the afternoon listening to Elara talk about herbs and recounting Hemlock's fantastical tales, all while secretly monitoring his slowly regenerating Mana (
As dusk settled and the bell called the orphans for the evening meal, Kaelen walked back through the village, his small frame moving with a newfound, hidden purpose. The journey ahead was daunting, filled with unknowns and the constant fear of discovery. But for the first time since the fever dream began, Kaelen didn't just feel fear. He felt a flicker of determination. He would learn about this System. He would gather Mana. He would gain experience, somehow. He would level up. He would survive. His secret journey had begun!