The Mana flared, reacting to his emotion. The platform glowed a dark amethyst hue, with tendrils of indigo and silver coiling around his feet and wrists. It wasn't chaotic—it was restrained chaos, like a caged storm. Buried emotion. Controlled rage. Deep intuition.
Caldor's voice broke through the air:
"His Mana flow is… conflicted, but vast. And his soul—it holds wounds that amplify magic."
The glow rose higher.
And then—a surge. The energy spiked, then snapped inward, collapsing into Garcia's chest like a pulse returning to its origin.
The light faded.
Garcia gasped, knees buckling slightly, but he stood firm.
"What… what just happened?" he asked, voice hoarse.
Caldor descended the platform steps, inspecting him as if seeing a rare artifact.
"You have touched the Mana," he said. "And it has touched you."
He turned to the other champions.
"Garcia's affinity is… unstable but formidable. He walks
the edge between Assassin and Mage—neither purely one nor the other. His magic stems from his emotion, his past, and his desire to understand what is hidden."
Garcia looked down at his hands. They still tingled. He clenched them.
"You mean I'm broken," he muttered.
"No," Caldor said, stepping closer. "I mean you are unrefined. But with focus… with time… you could become something this world has never seen."
Garcia exhaled slowly.
Something inside him had cracked open during the attunement.
But for the first time in what felt like forever…
He didn't feel like dying.
He felt like fighting.
The Calm Before Training
The final flickers of mana faded from the attunement platform. Some champions sat in stunned silence, still processing the whirlwind of new sensations; others leaned on the marble walls, whispering to one another about their results.
Caldor Velmar stepped forward, his robes rustling softly with authority and grace. A gentle silence spread across the room as he raised a hand.
"You have all done well," he began, his voice rich with pride and gravity. "This first step—attuning to the mana of this world—is often the most disorienting. But you have endured it with strength and resolve."
His gaze swept across them, lingering a moment on Garcia, whose hands still pulsed faintly with leftover energy.
"Your journey as champions begins in truth tomorrow. Training—both magical and martial—will commence at dawn. You will learn how to survive here, how to fight, and how to harness your blessings."
Caldor continued, his tone shifting to one of warm assurance.
"But for tonight… you rest."
He clapped once, and the temple doors slowly swung open. Outside, two elegant carriages, gilded and pulled by sleek, antlered creatures of moonlight white, awaited.
"The King of Aetheris, by decree of the Goddess of Life, has prepared rooms for each of you in the Royal Skywing Pavilion—a place of peace, comfort, and security. You will be escorted there and cared for."
A young priestess in silver robes appeared at his side, bowing.
"Whatever you need," Caldor added, "food, clothing, materials, even conversation—you shall receive. The kingdom will fund your accommodations and expenses entirely."
The champions began to murmur among themselves—relief, suspicion, curiosity.
Then Caldor said something that made the air tighten.
"And when your mission is fulfilled—when the darkness is vanquished, and balance is restored—you will be returned. To Earth. To your world. To your families, your time, your lives… as though no time had passed."
A hush fell.
A second heartbeat passed before the first response came—a quiet, disbelieving, "Home…?"
Aisha's eyes glistened. Diego muttered a silent prayer. Even Garcia's brows furrowed—not in distrust, but in something closer to hope, but he was aware he had nothing left.
"But to reach that end," Caldor said, folding his hands, "you must survive. You must adapt. And you must become what this world needs you to be."
He nodded once.
"Now go. Rest. Tomorrow, your true path begins.
The Skywing Pavilion
The carriages rolled through the capital of Aetheris under a twilight sky dusted with stars. The champions gazed out the windows—marveling at airships in the distance, glowing trees lining cobbled roads, and lanterns that floated like fireflies above the walkways.
Eventually, they arrived.
The Skywing Pavilion stood tall at the edge of a crystalline cliff, overlooking a vast valley of silver rivers and lavender fields. It was crafted from white stone and glass, shaped like wings unfolding to embrace the sky.
Inside, rooms were already prepared—each tailored strangely to the comfort of the occupant.
Garcia's room had a view of the moonlit forest and a chair by the window, where a steaming cup of coffee already waited.
He blinked.
How did they know?
He didn't know whether to be suspicious or comforted.
But for now… he sat.
And stared at the horizon.