Chapter 1: The Boy Without a Gift
In the world of Artherion, a realm divided into four vast continents, power ruled all.
Not wealth, not birth - but the gift that stirred within one's body.
They called it the mystic Body - a mysterious blessing that awakened within sixty percent of all people.
Some were born with Steel Flesh, bodies that could turn aside blades.
Others had Thunder Veins, channeling lightning through their strikes.
And a few... were born with powers that defied nature itself.
But there were also the powerless - the ones without a mystic Body.
They were called Blanks.
Ren was one of them.
A boy with no gift, no divine energy coursing through his body - yet his eyes burned brighter than anyone's.
He grew up on the harsh coasts of the Western Continent, where pirates, raiders, and mercenaries clashed for control of the skies and seas.
He watched as those with mystic Bodies crushed others under their power.
He learned to fight with nothing but a dull sword and a stubborn dream.
>Someday, maybe I will be a legend, even without the heavens' gift."
From the moment he could walk, Ren was told what he could never become - a warrior, a mage, a leader. His village tolerated him, but only barely. He trained his body, studied ancient texts, and watched others summon storms and crush mountains while he struggled to lift a dull sword.
He was, as they said, giftless.
Years passed, and the world moved on without him - until one night, while training in the ruins outside his village, Ren met a stranger.
The man sat cross-legged beneath the shattered moonlight, his eyes calm as the ocean, his aura... nonexistent. Ren felt no power from him, not even the faint shimmer of energy that even the weakest Gifted emitted.
"Another Giftless?" the man asked with a faint smile. "It's been a long time since I've seen one."
Ren froze. "You can tell?"
"I can feel the emptiness," the man replied. "Like looking into a mirror."
The man's name was Kael - a name whispered in every corner of the four continents. The Wandering Blade, the Ghost of Atherion, the man who defeated entire armies alone. The strongest among the living.
And he, too, was Giftless.
Ren couldn't believe it. "How...? How can someone without a Gift become that strong?"
Kael looked at him, expression unreadable. "Because a Gift can limit as much as it empowers. The Gifted rely on their power. The Giftless must rely on themselves. When you have nothing, you learn to become everything."
He stood and drew his blade - a dull, unmarked sword with no magical glow. Yet as he swung, the air split. The ground shook. A silent wave of force carved the earth before Ren's eyes.
Ren fell to his knees. "Teach me," he whispered. "Please."
Kael looked down at him - not with pity, but with understanding.
"I will. But remember this, boy: strength without a Gift comes with a price. You will bleed more than the rest. You will suffer longer. And you will never be acknowledged by those who worship power."
Ren's fists clenched. "Then I'll suffer until I'm stronger than them all."
Kael smiled faintly. "Good. Then your true Gift isn't one given by the gods... it's the one you forge yourself."
And so began the legend of Ren the Giftless, the disciple of the man who defied divinity itself - a soul without blessing, yet destined to shake the heavens of all four continents.