"Hey, Pierce, feel like grabbing a drink?" Ben suggested. "I heard The Glimmer Bistro released a new tonic called 'Emerald Nectar.' Apparently, it tastes great and gives your Spirit a temporary boost."
Pierce felt a flicker of interest, but after patting his thin wallet, he dismissed the thought. "Pass. I need to get back to my practice."
"Why so driven?" Ben rolled his eyes. "I’ve already made my peace with it—I don’t have the gift for the Arts. When the academy does the reassessment in two weeks, I’m applying for the Knight Academy. If I can’t be an Arcanist, becoming a Knight with a Life Seed isn't a bad consolation prize."
Knights. Though they lacked the prestige of Arcanists, they were still a privileged class, far above commoners. Most students who lost hope in magic eventually chose this path.
Before Pierce could reply, a stir broke out ahead. "It's Silas and his crew!" someone whispered.
Pierce watched as a group of youths in grey apprentice robes strolled past, radiating an air of effortless confidence. Every eye in the vicinity—including Ben’s—was filled with naked envy. These were the elites who had already begun touching the strings of true magic.
Pierce withdrew his gaze, offered a brief farewell to Ben, and headed toward the exit.
Outside, the sky was bruising into a deep purple. The Greystone lamps lining the streets flickered to life, casting pools of sickly yellow light onto the pavement.
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Greystone—a low-grade byproduct of Mana Stones—was the lifeblood of this civilization, the equivalent of oil in another world. It powered everything from streetlights to factory engines. The world felt like a distorted reflection of the Industrial Revolution; carriages and exotic mounts filled the streets, and while flintlocks existed, they were irrelevant. Why invest in gunpowder when an Arcanist’s Defensive Field or a Knight’s Aura could shrug off a lead ball like a rainstorm? In this world, the Arcanist was the ultimate weapon of mass destruction. Pierce had once seen a vision of a 9th-circle "Meteor Swarm" leveling miles of land—a strike as devastating as a cluster of Tomahawk missiles.
That vision was what solidified his resolve.
Pierce looked up. Beyond the jagged skyline of the slums, a colossal white wall pierced the clouds.
The Ring of Truth. It divided the city into two distinct realities. Inside the Inner City, even the streetlights ran on pure Mana Stones. It was a paradise that few could ever hope to reach. Two years ago, Pierce had been one of its residents. But after his parents’ "accident" and his relatives’ betrayal, he had been cast out like refuse.
"I’ll make them pay for what they took," he promised the cold evening wind.
Ten minutes later, he arrived at his cramped, dilapidated apartment. He lit the coal stove, prepared a simple plate of pasta, and sat in the dim light.
"Omniscience," he whispered internally.
The blue HUD flickered to life.
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[Task: Will-Rune #1 Analysis Complete!]
Boom.
A deluge of information slammed into his consciousness, making his temples throb painfully. When he finally opened his eyes, they gleamed with unnatural clarity.
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[Spirit: 3.45 (Threshold Passed)]
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[Physique: 1.75]
A Rank 1 Apprentice was defined by the successful construction of the first Will-Rune and a Spirit level of at least 3.0.
A thin smile played on Pierce's lips. He was now, officially, a Rank 1 Apprentice.