Then, just as the chief finished his speech, the drums began.
Their sound vibrated through the crowd, signaling the start of the ceremony.
As we stepped forward, deeper into the cave, the shamans stood in a line before us, their red robes flowing like blood. Their faces were hidden behind ceremonial scarves, only their eyes visible—piercing, watching.
Then, the cave walls came to life.
Hundreds—no, thousands—of tiny shimmering gems embedded in the rock began to glow. Flickering lights, like an entire universe trapped underground.
And at the heart of it all—
A lake.
Not of water.
But of Vahl.
Its surface was black, shifting and swirling like living darkness. And yet, where the light of the cave touched it, it shimmered in eerie, iridescent hues—violet, deep blue, hints of silver.
It reminded me of something.
In the old world, there were stories of oil—a black liquid, the remains of ancient creatures, used to fuel machines.
Vahl was like that.
But unlike oil, which powered machines—Vahl powered us, humans.
A figure stepped forward.
The Head Shaman.
His robes were embroidered with golden symbols of power, his presence commanding silence without a single word. His eyes, dark and knowing, burned with something ancient.
He lifted his hands.
"This… is the Lake of Vahl."
The words hung in the air, and the children before him stood still, eyes wide, absorbing every syllable.
With a sweeping gesture, he pointed toward the swirling, blackened waters of the lake. The surface seemed to pulse with an eerie, unnatural rhythm.
"Our understanding of the Vahl is limited. But we know it is the key to our survival in this new world. Without it, we would be no better than the barbarian tribes that surround us—weak, defenseless, and doomed to perish."
His eyes locked with theirs, piercing through their uncertainty and doubt.
"As children of the Sorina Tribe, you have the right to claim the Vahl's power. Today, you begin your journey. For you, the process of absorbing Vahl will be simple. The shamans will help and guide you. All you need to do is approach the lake and make contact with it. After that, the Vahl will take its course—and we will help you along the way."
His voice grew heavier, more solemn.
"But the amount of Vahl you can absorb is not within our control. It is determined by your talent—your potential. Some of you will take in more, some less. And that difference will decide everything that comes after. Your power. Your future."
A hushed silence settled over the crowd as the weight of his words sank in.
"This is only the beginning," he said, his voice taking on a deeper, almost reverent tone. "Once the Vahl enters your body, it will take years for it to stabilize within you. You will struggle, you will fight, and you will train until you and the Vahl become one. Only then can you return to the lake—to claim more."
He let the words linger, allowing their full meaning to settle into their minds.
"This process can be repeated five times, each time unlocking more power. If you are talented enough, you might reach the Fifth Phase—the strongest phase a human can attain."
As they heard the words of the shaman, the crowd all stole a glance at the chief of the tribe—one of the few Fifth Stage warriors in all of Maridain, rumored to be as strong as a thousand men.
"But understand this—most of you will not be able to reach even the Third Stage. In fact, many of you will never even see the Second. That is the cold truth of our world."
The harsh reality of his words cut through the air, leaving a chill in the room. The children shifted uneasily, the dream of power starting to feel more distant, more elusive.
The shaman looked at them one final time, his gaze burning with an intensity that could melt stone.
"This is all the knowledge I will give you. The rest, you must learn from your trainers, or from the experience of the trials ahead."
He stepped back, folding his hands together in a final, resolute gesture.
"Now, wait for your name to be called."
And with that, the ceremony began in earnest.
One by one, the children were called forward, each stepping up to face the Vahl, to prove their worth.
The first boy was typical—timid, eager, but not exceptional. He approached the Lake of Vahl, the rhythmic drumming of the shamans guiding his every step, like an executioner's march. I watched, almost detached, as he knelt at the water's edge, hesitating for just a heartbeat before plunging his hands into the liquid.
The Vahl responded—swiftly.
The drums grew louder, the liquid rippling and bubbling, as if alive. The dark drops of Vahl rose, gathering above his head, swirling around him like a storm. Drop by drop, they formed a sphere—a dark, pulsating ball hovering above his head. It grew steadily, quietly—until it reached the size of a fist.
And then it stopped.
At the time, I didn't understand what that meant. But I knew one thing: the silence of the crowd spoke volumes. The air was thick with a stillness that told more than any words could.
No whispers. No excitement. Just blank faces. Indifference.
Just like that, the boy's future had already been sealed.
In that moment, the entire crowd understood—this child would never reach the Second Stage. The amount of Vahl a person could absorb was everything in our tribe. Talent wasn't about strength or skill—it was about how much of the Vahl you could wield.
Five more children followed, each one offering the same result: a sphere no larger than a fist. Their destinies were already decided. Nothing more to see. Nothing more to hope for.
And then—
A red-haired boy stepped forward.
When his hands touched the Vahl, the reaction was immediate. The liquid surged faster, more powerful than before. The sphere rose, swelling in size, surpassing the boy's head, then expanding past his shoulders, until it was nearly as big as his body.
The crowd erupted in gasps, whispers, and murmurs of disbelief.
He wasn't anyone special. A farmer's son—nothing more. But that day, he showed more talent than any of us could have dreamed. As he returned to the crowd, his face beaming with pride, his future among the warriors of the tribe was secured.
And then it was my turn.
I stepped forward, feeling the weight of every single gaze on me, the expectations bearing down like a crushing weight.
The son of two of the greatest warriors the tribe had ever seen. The child who was meant to be extraordinary.
I stole a glance at my father, standing stoically at the back of the crowd. His face—expressionless, cold—offered no comfort. No support.
I took a breath, ignoring the trembling of my hands, and plunged them into the Vahl.
The sensation was immediate—cold, thick, heavy—as if the liquid were alive, wrapping around my skin like an oppressive force.
And then—
The drops rose.
They gathered, forming a sphere before my face, larger than the first boy's, larger than the others before me.
It grew.
For a moment, I thought—maybe, just maybe, this is it. Maybe my sphere would be like the red-haired boy's. Maybe… just maybe, I would hear the crowd roar with excitement.
But there was nothing.
Silence.
The sphere stopped growing, but the world around me did not come alive with the cheers I'd imagined. I turned, searching the faces in the crowd for something—anything. What I found were faces of disappointment. There was no pride. No joy. Just indifference, even disdain.
And then, the Head Shaman's voice cut through the stillness.
"Next. Lisa, daughter of House Listia."
Just like that, I was dismissed.
I stepped back into the crowd, my mind spinning, my hands clenched into fists. My heart pounded in my chest as I tried to ignore the growing sense of failure gnawing at my insides.
"You did well, young master," came a voice. I looked up to see Nisrin, the healer, her warm gaze softening my panic.
"Don't mind the crowd," she continued, her voice genuine. "You'll become a great warrior. I know it."
I forced a smile, but it felt hollow.
"Thank you, Nisrin."
But that smile faded quickly.
Because then came Lisa.
Her turn was quick—barely a moment passed. And when I looked up…
Her sphere was enormous. Twice the size of her body, swirling with Vahl in a dark, majestic dance.
Larger than mine. Much larger.
And she wasn't the only one.
Child after child, each stepping forward with their hands raised, the Vahl responded with spheres—some the same size as mine, some even larger. The disparity was staggering. My sphere—my meager sphere—seemed so insignificant, so pitiful compared to theirs.
And then I understood.
I wasn't special.
I wasn't even above average.
For a farmer's son, my Vahl size might have been impressive. But for me? For the son of the chieftain, the son of two legendary warriors…
It was nothing.
The whispers grew louder now. I felt them burning into my back. The weight of disappointment. The feeling of failure.
And then—
Lucas's turn arrived.
The air in the crowd changed. Whispers turned into a roaring storm of voices.
Lucas—the boy my father had adopted. The boy whose talents had been apparent from childhood. The boy who was a shining example of what a true warrior should be.
He stepped forward without hesitation, his face calm and collected. His hands went into the Vahl. And the reaction was immediate.
The Vahl surged.
It rose faster than anything I had ever seen. Higher. Larger. The sphere swelled with power, growing beyond anything I had imagined possible. Bigger than mine. Bigger than Lisa's. More than triple my size.
The crowd went wild. Cheers. Roars of excitement.
And then—
For the first time in my life, I saw my father smile.
It wasn't for me. It wasn't for his own blood. No, he smiled at Lucas—the boy he had chosen.
I stood there, paralyzed. The crowd cheered. But it was nothing compared to the wave of bitter pride that surged through me.
But then—
Something changed.
The Vahl darkened.
No, it wasn't just darkening—it was changing. The once-black liquid turned a deep, ominous red.
And at that moment, the cheers froze.
A gasp ran through the crowd, and a voice—loud, shocked—called out: "Red Vahl… doesn't that mean—?"
I never heard the rest.
Because in that moment, the world around me seemed to fade away.
The voices grew distant. All I could see was Lucas.
And the smirk on his face as he looked straight at me.