Chapter 23 – Aric
The morning mist clung to the valley like a shroud, rolling low over the grass as Aric stood in the clearing behind the safehouse. His breath hung in the air, steady but shallow, as he focused on the flow of mana within his body.
He had practiced this exercise countless times—drawing in mana from the environment, circulating it through his channels, then releasing it in controlled bursts. Father had called it foundation work, the kind of training that built discipline before true battles.
Yet something was wrong.
The mana swirled, sluggish and uneven, like water blocked by hidden stones. Aric frowned, closing his eyes to concentrate. He had grown stronger the past few months—he could feel it in the density of his core—but the growth seemed… slower. Muted.
He opened his eyes, held out his palm, and whispered the word of shaping. A small flame sputtered to life. It danced in his hand, weak and flickering, nothing like the steady blaze he had conjured only days ago.
Aric grit his teeth. "Why is it weaker?"
He tried again, this time channeling more of his mana. The flame grew larger but not brighter—its edges frayed, unstable. It devoured more energy than it should have. By the time he dispersed it, he was breathing harder than usual.
Frustration burned in his chest. "This doesn't make sense…"
He sat cross-legged on the damp ground, recalling the lessons Daren had drilled into him. Magic growth should have been steady—stronger output with stronger reserves. Instead, his progress stuttered, as though someone unseen siphoned away his gains.
And then he remembered the phrase from the night before: The Chains of Aion.
Aric froze, staring at his trembling hands. Could this be what Father meant? That his growth wasn't his own, but borrowed, drained, and controlled?
A faint crunch of gravel broke his thoughts. Daren approached, carrying a bundle of firewood. His gaze sharpened when he noticed the frustration in Aric's eyes.
"You feel it, don't you?" Daren asked, setting down the wood.
Aric looked up, startled. "Feel what?"
"The ceiling pressing down. The leash pulling back." His father's voice was low, almost grim. "Your growth slowing, even as you train harder. Magic slipping away, no matter how much you grasp."
Aric nodded reluctantly. "It's like… I'm losing what I earned. As if the flame I build gets stolen before it can burn."
Daren's expression tightened. "Good. You notice it earlier than most."
Aric blinked. "Earlier?"
"Most mortals live their entire lives without realizing it. They accept stagnation as weakness, failure as their own fault. They never see the hand that steals from them." Daren crouched beside him, eyes hard. "That hand belongs to the system."
Aric's throat tightened. "So it's true… the system is draining me?"
"Yes." Daren pulled a stick from the bundle and snapped it in half. "It allows you to grow, but only so far. Each step you climb, it takes a piece for itself. That is why only gods and chosen champions can break past certain thresholds—they are permitted, not free."
Aric's fists clenched. "That's not fair. We work, we bleed, and it's stolen from us?"
Daren placed a hand on his shoulder. "The world is not fair, Aric. That is why Taboo exists. To expose the lie, to cut the chain. But it comes with a cost."
Aric lowered his gaze, the fire of defiance slowly replacing his despair. He thought of the weak flame in his hand, of the endless ceiling above him. He thought of the phrase etched into the tome: The Chains of Aion.
If this was the truth, then he would not accept it. He would not live his life as fuel for someone else's system.
Aric stood, resolve hardening in his chest. "Then teach me how to fight it. I won't stay in chains."
Daren studied him for a long moment before nodding. "Good. Remember this feeling, Aric—the frustration, the injustice. It will be your first weapon. But weapons cut both ways. If you wield it recklessly, it will destroy you before the system does."
Aric exhaled slowly, staring at his palm as if daring the flame to rise stronger. The morning mist curled around him, and though the fire that sparked to life was small and wavering, his resolve burned steadier than ever.
For the first time, he realized his path forward wasn't just about growing stronger—it was about breaking free.