For as long as I can remember, I’ve always dreamed of becoming the greatest mage in the world.
Not for fame, nor for recognition.
Just… to prove that I could.
In a world like Aeloria, where magic reigns supreme, it’s the only dream that truly matters.
Today, that dream was finally supposed to begin.
The Aeloria Academy.
A sacred place, where young talents are trained, tested, raised toward greatness… or cast into oblivion.
Everything begins with the Rite of Revelation.
A once-in-a-lifetime moment, etched into the memory of every aspiring mage. The moment when our Arche, our magical gift, is revealed.
That power is our future. Our destiny.
And for that, we must touch the Stele of the Source Tree.
An ancient tree, towering and eternal, protected at the heart of a sanctuary hall.
Its roots dive into the world’s raw energy.
Its branches stretch like a web of magical veins, enclosed beneath a dome of living stone.
In front of it stands a black stele—smooth, silent, like a gateway between worlds.
You place your hand upon it… and your Arche awakens.
“In that hall, everyone knew the Ritual could either make a life… or break it.
Families, instructors, the students themselves… all held their breath.
Being chosen for the Nova Class meant prestige. Recognition. Power.
But a weak power… meant obscurity, shame, or worse.”
There were dozens of us in the hall.
Sitting in silence. Every name called out echoed like a drumbeat in my chest.
One by one, they stepped forward.
Bursts of light flared. Some powers exploded into storms or lightning bolts.
Gasps of admiration. Whispers of envy.
The first student touched the stele. A bright red light surged from the tree, igniting its branches in a warm, blazing glow.
An elemental rune appeared: Fire.
“An Elemental… pretty common, but always respected.”
“Not bad. He’ll probably make it into Nova.”
The second came forward. A cold blue light shone from the stele. Ice.
Then another. A vibrant golden rune: Lightning.
The crowd murmured with awe.
“Three Elementals in a row? This generation is promising.”
Then a girl with black hair stepped forward.
When she touched the stele, the tree pulsed with a strange, ethereal glow.
The leaves froze for a moment, as if time itself stood still.
The rune that appeared was complex, unstable: Magical Alteration.
A wave of stunned whispers spread through the room.
“An Abstract type… that’s extremely rare. She’s going places.”
“That’s high-level magic… She’s bound for the Nova Class.”
She raised her head, scanning the crowd with a calm, almost defiant gaze.
A slight smirk curled her lips, a touch of arrogant confidence.
As if to say: “You really thought I’d end up with something ordinary?”
Even the instructors looked impressed.
Then, my name.
— Menma Arisaka.
My legs moved on their own.
I walked toward the stele.
My heartbeat throbbed in my temples. My fingers trembled slightly.
I placed my hand.
A chill ran through me. The surface was cold—almost unreal.
Nothing happened.
Seconds passed… long… heavy…
Then, a faint light—like a fragile spark—lit up in the roots of the tree.
It climbed slowly, hesitantly, almost ashamed.
No bright flash. No surge of power.
Just a crushing silence.
The light twisted for a moment, then quietly faded.
As if it had never truly wanted to shine.
Silence fell across the hall.
I kept my hand there, waiting… for something else.
A second wave, a hidden strength, a miracle.
But nothing came.
Then, in a flat voice, the ceremony master announced:
— Arche revealed: Amplification. Type: Alteration.
Manifestation level: low.
“Amplification? That’s for blacksmiths, not mages.”
“He won’t stand a chance against an Elemental…”
I could already feel the weight of their judgment pressing down on me.
A strange emptiness filled my mind.
My heart sank.
I kept my eyes on the trunk of the tree.
The word echoed in my skull: Amplification…
What is…
That’s it?
No brilliance. No power.
Just… that? Really?
I slowly pulled my hand away.
My steps led me back to my seat.
I no longer knew how to walk. How to breathe.
Everything around me blurred, as if the world were falling away.
I sat.
I stared at the ground. The void. The nothingness.
I had always imagined this moment.
I had dreamed of a blazing power. A glorious future.
And now… I watched that dream dissolve before my eyes, like a poorly drawn illusion.
I felt nothing. No anger. No sadness.
Just this emptiness. This weight.
As if an invisible hand had just snuffed out the light in my soul.
Then, as if to highlight the gap between us, a tall student stepped forward.
The moment his hand touched the stele, the tree exploded with a brilliant white light.
A rune with shifting patterns appeared: Divine Light.
“Another Abstract power?! That’s incredible!”
“He’ll get scouted before classes even begin.”
The young man, noble features and dignified posture, bowed slightly.
His eyes held a calm worthy of an ancient king.
“I will carry this gift with honor and protect those who need it,” he whispered.
The room lingered in his words, full of respect.
Others followed: Shapeshifting, Telekinesis, Spirit Blade…
Even the more standard powers shone brighter than the insignificance of Amplification.
A few hours later, I sat alone in the back garden of the Academy.
I had found an old branch—sturdy enough.
I took a breath. I focused my mana.
A faint tremor. A thin halo, barely visible.
So this… was my power.
I stepped up to a small tree and, without thinking, struck it with all my strength.
Crack.
Not the tree.
The branch.
It snapped in half, unable to handle the force.
The tree didn’t move.
I stood there, frozen. My hand still raised.
Then I looked down.
The magic was already gone.
As if it had never been there at all.
I dropped the broken wood. It hit the grass with a hollow sound.
I slowly sat down at the base of the trunk.
I looked at my hands.
They trembled just a little—but it was enough to hurt.
I felt something burn in my chest.
Not tears.
Something quieter. Heavier.
And in a whisper, barely audible, I said:
“It may be nothing for now…
But I will find a way.
I must.
I can.”