The wind outside their home whispered gently through the slanted rooftops, brushing against the tattered curtain as Arin sat on the cold floor, legs folded, his back resting against the wall.
The house hadn't changed.
Same cracked windows. Same uneven wooden floor. The faint scent of herbal medicine still lingered from the shelf near the kitchen, where his mother always kept her strange mix of roots and leaves.
But he had changed.
So much had happened in so little time.
He leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling, eyes half-closed, heart pounding with memories.
The academy. The awakening. The strange surge of mana.
Two cores.White.Black.He hadn't understood it, but he knew instinctively—it was dangerous.
He hadn't told anyone. Not his parents. Not the academy. Not even Godsmith.
And he didn't plan to.
Instead, he showed only two affinities: Earth and Wind—basic enough to not draw too much attention, rare enough to qualify him as a student.
Even that had surprised his parents.
He could still see their eyes, wide with a strange mix of fear and pride when he had simply said—
"I awakened dual affinity."
He didn't mention the rest.
Didn't mention the second pulse of power in his chest, the deep, cold hum that echoed in the silence of his soul.
"Not now," he whispered to himself.
There would be time for secrets later. For now, he had to stay focused. Hidden.
"Play low. Learn quietly. Grow when no one is looking."
A soft knock pulled him out of thought.
His mother stepped in, carrying a worn cloak, freshly stitched. Her smile was tired but warm.
"You're leaving tomorrow," she said, her voice gentle. "To live in those big dormitories. With rich kids and nobles."
She sat beside him, smoothing the cloak across her lap.
"When you were born, you could barely breathe. We had to trade three sacks of grain just for the medicine to keep you warm through the night."
Her voice cracked.
"Now look at you. Going off to become a mage."
Arin remained quiet, unsure of what to say. His father entered the room slowly, leaning on a stick, his back still frail from the injury that ended his mining days.
"I may not understand magic," he said, "but I understand men."
He looked Arin in the eye.
"Be the kind of man who can carry the world if needed… but never step on others to get there."
His mother took Arin's hand.
"Stay safe. Don't starve. Don't get into fights. And if you do... win."
Arin smiled faintly.
"I'll be okay."
He rose, stepping toward the small cabinet tucked away in the corner. From inside, he took out the cracked leather pouch the old man had given him. The book, World of Body and Mind, sat inside, nestled between a few coins and dried roots.
He clutched it for a moment before placing it gently in his satchel.
Tonight was his last night at home.
Tomorrow, he would step into a world where people flew on magic beasts, summoned flames with their fingertips, and treated boys like him as dirt under their boots.
And he was ready.
He looked out the window one last time, at the narrow streets of the slums, at the flickering torches, the children playing with mud dolls, the shadows cast by dreams that never took flight.
"I'll come back one day," he whispered.
"Not poor. Not weak. Not forgotten."