(NEXT DAY- DAY OF AWAKENING, MC TURNED 16)
The sun stood high above Duskhollow Reach, casting golden light across the highlands, where old stone roads wound like veins toward the heart of House Ophirein. Amid the blackpine groves and fog-slicked cliffs, the ancestral manor stood proud—its obsidian walls gleaming under the noonday light, its towers crowned with silver serpent gargoyles.
And from every parapet, the black serpent banner flew—marking this day as sacred.
The manor's grand courtyard had been transformed. Rows of soulsteel torches lined the blackstone perimeter, each flame enchanted to burn with runefire. Ancient sigils glowed faintly beneath the stones—spells of stillness, clarity, divine witness. Even the wind seemed silenced.
This was not a feast day. Nor a coronation.
Today was a birthright's gamble.
Today, Nerion Ophirein would awaken.
Sixteen years old. The fourth of six children.
He stood barefoot in the ritual circle, dressed in the traditional half-cloak of black velvet, pinned at the shoulder, leaving most of his chest and arms exposed. Upon his heart glimmered the Ophirein crest: a silver serpent coiled protectively around a kneeling knight, sword raised toward the heavens. The mark shimmered faintly—not stitched, but magically inked, a soulbrand that would fade if he failed to awaken.
His lean frame bore the signs of training—cords of wiry muscle, built not through bulk but endurance. His ink-stained fingers gripped nothing, save the journal tucked beneath the cloak's inner fold—a gift from his grandfather, filled with tactics, prophecy, and forgotten names.
Behind his composed stance burned quiet doubt.
What if I don't awaken? What if I'm just… normal? What if I fail here—before them all?
But he stood tall.
Because failure here meant shame, not only for himself, but for the legacy of a bloodline whispered to descend from a forgotten god.
Around the courtyard, the full weight of House Ophirein's lineage gathered to witness:
• Count Alaric, in ceremonial armor, gleamed like a myth reborn. His soulforged plates shimmered like midnight water, runed with ancestral names. His helm remained tucked under one arm. He did not smile. But in his gaze was something fiercer than pride.
• Lady Evelyne, red-haired and resolute, wore a mage's battlegown traced with runes of fire. She held her composure, though her fingers glowed faintly with suppressed flame—her body ready to strike down anything that dared interrupt this rite.
• Seraphine, eldest and ever-watchful, stood armored in her Knight-Mage robes. Her magic danced faintly along her left arm, her stance subtly turned to guard Nerion's flank, out of pure instinct.
• Riven and Aelric, the ever-bloodied twins, leaned against one another, still dusted from the morning's sparring. They shared a nod with Nerion—not playful, but solemn. Brothers now… and forever, if he succeeded.
• Finn, wide-eyed and vibrating with energy, leaned forward in his seat, fists clenched.
• Lysa, the youngest, swung her legs and clutched a carved wooden figure—one of Nerion. She whispered a prophecy in the voice of the innocent:
"Big brother's gonna glow."
Behind them stood the elite, the living legends of House Ophirein:
• Kael'thar of the White Claw, the cat-beastman general, arms folded across his furred chest, tail flicking once. A nod of approval—sharp, respectful, absolute.
• Brother Halden, shrouded in scripture-bound chains, murmured verses under his breath, his presence a living vow.
• Vasha Deyne, the lightning witch, twirled her thunderstaff lazily, her grin crooked. But her eyes—those stormborn eyes—were fixed on Nerion.
• Tennar Graves, half-shadow even in sunlight, scanned the rooftops with the eyes of a predator.
• Elyra Vaelwyn, hands already glowing with pale healing light, whispered a silent prayer, not to the Tower—but to something older.
• Sir Garron Holt, square-jawed and unyielding, stood behind the family. Not as a guardian. As a sentinel.
And beyond them: hundreds more.
Lesser nobles, small lords, merchant scions, and soul-card hopefuls from surrounding fiefs—some bound to House Ophirein, others here on invitation. They filled the stone balconies, the overlook terraces, the upper courtyard walls. Even villagers and farmers, granted rare entry, stood in quiet awe. The crowd stretched as far as the outer courtyard gates.
They had come not only to witness the ceremony—but to watch a miracle they could never afford.
Because this ritual, this ancient rite, required soulstone catalysts, divine glyphs, and the blessing of the Tower's sanctioned priesthood. It was a rite of nobility, a priceless tool to push a dormant soul into bloom.This ritual was done to increase one's probability or chances to awaken.
Commoners could only dream of it.
The Tower Priest stepped forward, clad in indigo robes patterned with constellations. His staff, tipped with a glowing soul crystal, pulsed once, then twice.
He spoke—not loudly, but the enchantments carried his voice across every tier.
"We gather under sun and seal, beneath oath and sky, to witness the fate of Nerion Ophirein.
Born of twilight blood. Raised beneath the serpent's vow.
Sixteen winters.
One soul.
One chance."
He raised his staff.
The rune-circle beneath Nerion's feet surged with light.
First silver—the mark of a noble lineage.
Then gold—rare, radiant, signifying immense potential.
Then—
Obsidian.
A pulse rippled through the entire courtyard. The torches flickered. The light dimmed.
Gasps spread like wildfire.
Children wept. Elders dropped to their knees. Even mages staggered.
The ground did not shake—but it hummed. As though something beneath, something buried deep and old, had awoken.
Twin spirals of starlight and shadow coiled around Nerion—one gold, one black—rising like serpents into the sky.
And Nerion rose with them.
Feet leaving the ground.
Eyes wide.
Breath caught.
Everyone else saw nothing more.
But Nerion—
He saw everything
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
Initializing Awakening Protocol…
Verifying Soul Signature…
Divine Bloodline Detected — Identity Confirmed.
Name: Nerion Ophirein
Age: 16
Class: [CLASS HIDDEN — Tower-Sealed]
Divine Lineage: [Blood of the GOD OF HOPE — VERIFIED]
Status:Awakened
Level: 0
A warmth spread through his chest—gentle at first, then radiant. The light wasn't physical. It was his soul, catching fire.
He saw himself or something human —but older, wearing black-gold armor with serpent coils woven into the plates. Around him were warriors—some human, some beastkin, others draconic or ethereal. Far beyond, a tower of endless glass and obsidian loomed over stars and worlds.
And then… the vision shattered.
Replaced by pure, blinding presence.
A voice echoed—not with sound, but through instinct.
"Child of My Blood. You walk the path once walked by a forgotten king. Now rise—not as a boy, but as a flame reborn."
Nerion exhaled, and something ancient talked to him ….
[Unique Class Granted: KNIGHT-GENERAL]
Subtype: Command-Type / Martial / Divine-Bound Hybrid
Class Features Unlocked:
• Knight's Core – Standard Knight abilities unlocked (martial weaponry, heavy armor proficiency, stamina channeling).
• Command Instinct – Gain subconscious awareness of optimal troop positioning and enemy weaknesses.
• Tactician's Pulse – Visually perceive enemy formations and tactics within a radius.
• Soul Forge – May train and evolve Soul-Bound Subordinate Knights with increased efficiency and morale.
• Card Fortune – Improved odds of receiving Rare or better Soul Cards from dungeons or towers.
• Oath Aura – Nearby allies gain +10% morale and resistance to fear-based effects.
• Tower's Veil – Class appears veiled to others. Only the Tower recognizes its true name. Outsiders perceive only a "General-Type" aura.
• Divine eye : locked
[Bloodline Resonance Detected]
Divine Trait: Flame of the Forgotten
• Bound to a divine memory sealed in ancestral blood.
• Immune to despair-type mental afflictions.
• Triggers ancestral visions under great pressure.
• Evolves into divine-grade abilities at higher levels.
• Passive: Increased Soul Willpower and Leadership Affinity.
[Initial Stats]
Strength: 46
Agility: 48
Vitality: 50
Endurance: 50
Intelligence: 50
Perception: 38
Charisma: 30
Willpower: 34
[NEXT SCREEN TAB]
[MORE DETAILS]
[NOW TOWER TEST AVAILABLE.....ENTRY ALLOWED...CLICK TO START….]
And then—
he fell.
The light snapped away. The divine vision vanished.
Nerion hit the blackstone circle with a soft thud, knees bending, breath ragged. The world snapped back into color. The priest's voice broke with disbelief. Evelyne rose instantly. His father stepped forward.
But before anyone could ask a question—
Nerion ran.
(Everyone knew that he has awakened , but awakened what?what is his potential ?)
He surged to his feet, ignoring the stunned silence, the cries of his name, the clicking armor of his siblings, the gasping nobles, even the cries of little Lysa—
He bolted from the courtyard barefoot, half-cloaked, eyes wild.
Down the manor halls.
Through the sigil gates.
Past stunned guards who dared not stop him.
His thoughts were chaos. His heartbeat thundered.
He needed to breathe.
He needed to think.
He needed to know what the hell just happened.
He didn't stop until he reached the old watchtower behind the training fields, the place he used to hide as a boy.
He collapsed there, back against the cool stone, panting, shivering—not from fear, but from exhilaration.
Then, slowly, he looked up at the still-glowing screen in front of him.
"…What am I?"
To be continued…