Kyle couldn't sleep.
He had awakened—finally—but the power refused to respond. It felt almost laughable. Ironic, even.
"Maybe I really am just a Null… destined to be powerless."
No!
He pushed the thought away. He couldn't let doubt win. If he gave up now, then what was the point of surviving the Trial? Of enduring all that pain?
Kyle steadied his breath, forcing his mind into calm. He focused—not on the frustration, but on the flame he had seen, the pain he had endured, the strength he had clawed toward in the dark. He channeled mana into the ring again. And again.
Unlock.
He repeated the word like a mantra. Over and over.
He wasn't like the others, who awakened naturally. His path was different. His trial was through the ring. That must be the key.
And when he reached the edge—when his mana was nearly gone—a subtle tingling crawled across the back of his hand. A sudden warmth followed.
Kyle snapped his eyes open and stared at his palm.
There, etched into his skin, was a glowing droplet-shaped rune. Red, faint at first, but growing sharper by the second. His breath caught.
This was it.
The fruit of his struggle.
His hand trembled as he touched the rune. A soft flame floated above his palm—weightless, warm, alive. Kyle smiled. For the first time, he truly felt it. The power. The connection. His awakening was real.
I did it.
He remembered one of his old classes—mages manipulated their elements through imagination. Intent shaped the flame. So he focused, willing the fire to shift. He pictured it moving to the left—then right.
The flame obeyed.
His heart leapt. It worked.
Then he imagined it vanishing, returning to silence. The flame disappeared as if it had never been there.
Relief washed over him. It wasn't a hallucination. It wasn't luck. This was real.
Kyle sat down and stared at the rune again, the red droplet still glowing faintly in his palm. It looked nothing like the standard flame mage rune, which usually resembled a spark or flame symbol. Most appeared on the back of the hand or wrist.
His was different—simpler, quieter. Unique.
He stood and moved to his desk, pulling up his old academy files and search programs. He typed in every combination he could think of: flame rune droplet, red droplet symbol awakening, fire rune variants.
Nothing.
No one else had a rune like his.
Still, Kyle didn't feel discouraged. The rune was real. He was awakened. That was all that mattered for now.
He looked at the droplet again.
It looks like a tear. A tear of flame.
He smiled. It felt… right.
Ember Tear. That's what he would call it.
It was symbolic—of pain, of fire, of everything he had endured. A reminder that even in failure, there was still a spark. And now, there was light.
Lying back on his bed, Kyle finally let his body relax. For the first time in weeks, he felt peace.
Sleep came quickly.
——-
Meanwhile…
Mark stood alone on the veranda, eyes lifted toward the stars. Laughter echoed faintly from inside the house, but he didn't feel like joining the party.
His family had thrown a celebration for his awakening—he was a Summoner now, just like his parents. A legacy continued.
But Mark didn't care for attention. He would rather train.
He rubbed the back of his hand, where the Summoner's rune glowed faintly—a ring-shaped sigil made of three linked circles. Each ring represented a contracted spirit beast. At the moment, only one was filled.
Beside him, a small creature chirped softly. It looked like a fluffy chicken, but in truth, it was a baby phoenix. His first beast.
Mark picked it up gently.
Summoners paid a steep price for their power. Spirit beasts weren't easy to raise, and contracts could fail if the beast's power overwhelmed the summoner—or vice versa. Luckily for Mark, his family owned a spirit beast shop. Access wasn't a problem.
He remembered how he had bonded with the phoenix—how a drop of his blood had awakened the egg, how the warmth had surged in his chest. A perfect match.
Lost in thought, he didn't notice the approaching footsteps.
A shadow loomed behind him.
He turned.
"Parkson," Mark said flatly. "What are you doing here?"
Parkson grinned. "Same as you. Needed air. Is that a crime now?"
Mark rolled his eyes. Parkson was a family friend, but that didn't mean he liked the guy. Especially not when he always brought up—
"Kyle," Parkson said. "You think he's coming back? Or did he finally drop out?"
Mark sighed. Typical.
"Why? Worried about your ranking?" he asked dryly.
The upcoming semester would be different. The academy was shifting to a performance-based ranking system. The lowest-ranked students would risk expulsion. And in a top-tier academy, only the best stayed.
Parkson scoffed. "Me? Worried? About a Null?"
He smirked. "Even if he awakened, Kyle couldn't beat me."
Mark said nothing. Let him talk.
Kyle had been top of the class before—without powers. And If he had awakened?
Mark glanced at the sky again, holding back a smile.
Let him dream while he can.