The clearing was alive with noise.
The people's voices rose and fell like waves — overlapping, excited, and full of disbelief. They could hardly stay still after what they had witnessed. Some of the hunters clutched their weapons, speaking in hurried tones; the women whispered to one another, eyes wide with awe; and the children ran about, imitating bursts of flame with their tiny hands.
At the center of the commotion stood Torya.
He didn't speak, nor did he move. His attention was fixed on his hands — on the faint crimson patterns glowing just beneath his skin. They pulsed slowly, like molten veins of metal running from his fingertips to his forearms. Every heartbeat sent a wave of warmth through them, soft yet powerful.
He could feel it — something new, something alive coursing through him. His muscles were stronger, his breathing deeper. Every sound in the forest seemed sharper now — the rustle of leaves, the rhythm of footsteps, even the beating wings of distant birds. The world had changed around him, and yet, he knew the truth: it was he who had changed.
Then Nova's calm, mechanical voice resonated within his mind.
(Host has stepped into the Ascendant Stage. Aether circulation has begun. Normally, an individual must enter deep meditation to absorb Aether, but the system filters and channels it automatically for the host.)
A faint breath escaped Torya's lips. His chest rose and fell as the warmth in his body deepened, pulsing in harmony with the rhythm of his heart.
(The stage you are currently in is called the Initiate Stage,) Nova continued. (Aether has entered your body for the first time. It is strengthening your flesh, bones, and senses. Your body is adapting to its flow.)
Torya's gaze fell once more upon his glowing arms. The patterns were beautiful — elegant streaks of light that looked like rivers of fire.
(Due to your racial traits,) Nova added, (your body has developed a manifestation known as Flame Hands. These markings act as conduits for energy, enhancing your affinity to fire. Through them, you can manifest flame from your body or imbue weapons made with your flame with Aether.)
Torya raised his hand and focused. Aether responded instinctively, gathering at his palm. In moments, the air shimmered — red light coiling around his fingers before bursting into a soft, steady flame. It didn't burn him. Instead, it felt warm, like a living extension of himself.
He turned his hand over, watching the flame twist and dance to his will.
His heart pounded. This… this was power.
He clenched his fist, extinguishing the flame, then unsheathed his dagger. The weapon — forged from bronze ore he had smelted himself — gleamed under the sunlight. Torya took a deep breath and channeled Aether through his arm into the blade.
The markings on his hand flared, and the metal began to glow, veins of red light spreading across its surface. A faint hum filled the air, and the dagger looked as if it had been pulled straight from the forge — alive and radiant.
Gasps erupted from the crowd.
"Torya's weapon… it's glowing!" someone exclaimed.
"What kind of power is that?" another shouted.
Torya released the flow, and the glow slowly faded from the dagger, leaving it cold once more. He turned to his people — they stared at him with disbelief, wonder, and admiration.
He gave them a reassuring nod. "It's called Aether," he said, his tone calm but firm. "It flows through everything — the air, the ground, even us. For the first time, I can feel it."
Murmurs spread like wildfire. The younger hunters leaned forward, their eyes blazing with curiosity. The older ones exchanged uncertain glances, trying to comprehend something far beyond their understanding.
"If we can learn that power too…" one whispered. "We could protect the tribe."
Torya didn't answer immediately. He wasn't sure how to guide them yet — but he knew this was the beginning of something far greater.
Old Varin stepped forward, his voice carrying over the chatter. "Our tribe's first Ascendant," he said, his tone trembling with emotion. "Our ancestors spoke of beings who could draw power from the world, but we thought them only myths. Yet now—" He looked at Torya, his old eyes gleaming. "You've proven they were real all along."
Excitement rippled through the tribe. The hunters cheered; the mothers smiled through tears; the children laughed, pretending to conjure flames. It had been generations since they had felt hope like this.
As the celebration grew louder, Torya's focus drifted inward again. His heartbeat steadied, and Aether pulsed softly through him like a second breath.
Then Nova's voice returned.
(Host has acquired a new skill.)
Torya blinked. A new skill?
(Aether circulation has activated a new system category: Racial Skills. These are abilities unique to your lineage, tied directly to the physical and spiritual traits of your people.)
Racial Skills… the words lingered in his mind.
He willed the system interface to appear, and the familiar translucent panel shimmered before his eyes — unseen by anyone else. Its surface glowed faintly with flowing script.
[ EMBER SYSTEM: USER STATUS ]
Name: Torya
Age: 18
Race: Emberkin (Mortal)
Bloodline:Smoldering Ember
Talent:Bond of the Flame
Racial Trait:Shared Warmth
Skills: Racial Skills:
Herb Collecting (Initial) · Flame Hands (Initial) Resource Scouting (Initial) Tracking (Initial)
Hunting (Initial)
Survival Instinct (Initial)
Spear Throw (Initial)
Close-Quarters Combat (Initial)
Weapon Forging (Initial)
Weapon Maintenance (Initial)
Command Presence (Initial)
Tactical Planning (Initial)
Motivational Speech (Initial)
Flame Hands (Initial)
[ QUEST: NONE ]
Torya was quite surprised when he opened the usually closed tab of his skills on the system panel — one he had completely forgotten about due to the pressure he had faced these past few days. Rows of faintly glowing text filled his vision, listing things he had unconsciously learned throughout his journey. He hadn't realized how much he'd grown until now. Most of the skills were still at the Initial Stage, but they reflected every bit of experience he had gathered — from hunting and crafting to leading his people.
And then, at the side, a new section caught his eye.
Torya's lips curved slightly. It wasn't just a skill — it was a reflection of what his people could become. If he, the first of his kind, had awakened through flame, then perhaps the others would too in time.
He closed the panel and took a steady breath. The hum of Aether around him quieted, returning to a gentle, steady rhythm.
Behind him, the tribe's noise had softened into a mixture of wonder and curiosity. Children whispered his name in awe; the hunters approached one another, their minds already filled with thoughts of training and testing their limits.
Old Seran, still overwhelmed, wiped at his eyes. "I never thought our people could reach this height," he murmured. "The Crowkin will think twice before mocking us again."
Old Varin chuckled beside him. "Aye. We are no longer just a mortal tribe lost in the trees. We have an Ascendant among us — and soon, there will be more."
Their words stirred the crowd even more. Hope, fierce and blinding, filled the clearing.
But Torya knew what they could not yet grasp — this power was only beginning. He turned his gaze to the horizon, where the morning sun bled into the treetops. He could feel Aether moving through him still — alive, restless, as though urging him forward.
"Nova," he asked quietly in his mind, "what lies beyond this stage?"
(The Aether's flow will deepen,) came the answer. (Once your body fully adapts, The Ascendant refines Aether within their body, purging impurities and tempering their internal core — much like metal in a forge.
That marks the next threshold — a stage I call the tempering. The process is universal across all life, but how each race reacts is determined by its nature.)
Torya nodded slowly. "So even though the stages are the same, the reactions differ…"
(Correct,) Nova confirmed. (Your race resonates with heat and combustion. Another might harden, vibrate, or even glow with light. The process of integration is shared — the form it takes is not.)
He watched the embers of the campfire sway in the morning breeze. Each spark rose and faded into the light, yet something in it felt deeply familiar — as if it mirrored the pulse of his own being.
"If that's so," he murmured under his breath, "then our people will walk the path of fire."
Torya smiled faintly. The words felt right — not grand or distant, but alive, like the beginning of something that would one day burn bright.
The people around him continued to talk, their excitement refusing to fade. The young hunters were already boasting about becoming the next Ascendant; the elders watched the children with pride, while others whispered prayers of gratitude to the flames that had kept them alive for generations.
For the first time in years, their tribe wasn't afraid of what lay beyond the forest.
As night deepened once more, the clearing was illuminated by firelight. The flames danced high, casting long shadows over the faces of those gathered. Old Varin sat near the center, telling stories to the youths — tales of gods and warriors who once shaped the world.
Torya stood nearby, silent and thoughtful. The dagger at his side still carried faint traces of red along its edge. He glanced at his hands, their markings glowing softly in the dark. The warmth he felt was steady now — the Aether within him calm and familiar.
He clenched his fist, letting a thin ember rise and fade into the night air. The first of many.
Because he knew now — this was only the beginning.