Broken Star!

"I made it!"

Ren's voice echoed through the hall, cutting through the murmurs like a blade. The crowd of trainees, instructors, and spectators turned their heads in unison, their conversations dying mid-sentence. For a heartbeat, silence reigned as every pair of eyes locked onto the boy standing at the edge of the portal.

The whispers began immediately.

"Did he just make it?"

"Isn't he the demon spawn?"

"How did he pass the test?"

Ren shifted uncomfortably under the weight of their stares but quickly straightened his posture, refusing to let their scrutiny bury him. His chest heaved from the exertion of running, but a grin tugged at his lips as he muttered under his breath, "Barely, but I did it."

Bell, standing amidst the crowd, let out a visible sigh of relief. He'd been pacing near the edge of the room, his brows furrowed in worry. When he saw Ren step out, his expression softened, though he didn't immediately move toward him.

The instructor stepped forward, his boots clicking against the polished stone floor, silencing the crowd with a simple glance. He was a tall, imposing figure with a strong jawline and sharp brown eyes. His dark tunic bore the insignia of the training camp—a crimson sword crossed by a golden shield—and his voice carried authority as he addressed the room.

"The test is officially over," he announced, his tone firm but not harsh. "For those of you who made it, congratulations. For those who didn't… this is not the end of your journey. Growth takes time."

He gestured toward the left side of the hall, where a large wooden board, at least ten feet high and intricately carved with runes, glowed faintly. The board's surface was polished and smooth, and the shimmering runes began to shift and reorganize themselves into lines of text, forming the test results.

The room buzzed with anticipation. "That's the results board," the instructor continued. "It has recorded everyone's performance using observation magic tied to the test. Your placements will be categorized into one of two groups: the Normal Class or the Special Class. And for the top three performers, their names will be displayed in gold at the top."

Ren's curiosity piqued. He pushed past the other participants, stepping closer to the board, his breath hitching as he saw the shimmering words rearrange themselves into two distinct sections.

The Normal Class list was long, filled with names etched in silver, while the Special Class was significantly shorter, featuring only ten names in bold.

Above both sections, in a separate golden panel, were three names displayed with glowing characters:

Aldric Valmont - 3rd Place: 24 Orbs

Eleanor Greystone - 2nd Place: 28 Orbs

Bell Ashenfort - 1st Place: 37 Orbs

Ren blinked in disbelief as his gaze settled on Bell's name at the top. "Thirty-seven orbs?!" he muttered, his voice tinged with incredulity. His lips curled into an awkward smile. "Seriously, Bell? How did you pull that off?"

A few participants nearby turned to glance at him, murmuring under their breath, but Ren paid them no mind. His thoughts swirled as he scanned the rest of the board, searching for his own name. He felt a bead of sweat roll down his temple as his eyes flicked past name after name, anxiety creeping into his chest.

Finally, at the bottom of the Normal Class list, he found it.

"Ren Takamura - 2 Orbs."

Ren exhaled, a mix of relief and disappointment settling over him. "Normal class, huh…" He rubbed the back of his neck, forcing a wry smile. "Well, I guess I can't complain."

His thoughts shifted back to Bell. "That guy really outdid himself, though," he muttered with a soft chuckle. "Guess I've got my work cut out for me."

He turned, scanning the room for Bell, but before he could move, the same instructor from before approached him, his sharp eyes narrowing.

"Why are you standing in the Special Class area, cadet?" the instructor demanded. His voice was stern but measured, his expression unreadable.

Ren blinked, looking around and realizing he'd wandered too far. "Oh… uh, sorry about that," he replied sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. "I didn't notice."

The instructor's gaze lingered for a moment before he gave a curt nod. "Follow me," he said, turning on his heel. "Your lessons are about to begin."

Ren followed the instructor through a side corridor that opened into a sprawling training ground. The morning sun bathed the area in golden light, revealing an impressive setup. The training grounds were divided into sections, each catering to specific exercises. On the far right was a running track that looped around a shimmering lake at its center. The lake reflected the surrounding trees, their leaves rustling softly in the breeze. To the left, a field was dotted with wooden dummies and practice targets. Beyond that, groups of students practiced swordplay, their weapons clashing with sharp, rhythmic precision.

Ren's gaze wandered, taking in the sheer scale of the training area. "So this is where we'll be training for the next four months," he muttered to himself. "Not bad."

The instructor stopped in the middle of the field and turned to address the group of trainees who had followed. His sharp brown eyes swept over them as he barked, "Listen up!"

The idle chatter among the students ceased immediately.

"I am Instructor Duran," he began, his voice carrying over the field. "I will be overseeing the Normal Class. That means I'll be in charge of you lot—those who didn't make the cut for the Special Class."

A few students shifted uncomfortably, their expressions betraying their disappointment. Ren, however, remained silent, his gaze steady.

Duran continued, pointing toward the far left side of the field where a blond man in his mid-20s stood waving enthusiastically. His long hair shimmered in the sunlight, and his relaxed smile contrasted with Duran's stern demeanor. "If you wield Mana, report to Instructor Albert over there."

Albert waved again, his voice carrying faintly over the distance. "Hi, everyone! Looking forward to working with you!"

Ren tilted his head, wondering how someone so cheerful could be an instructor.

Duran then pointed to the right, where another man lay sprawled on a bench, a wine bottle in hand. His disheveled brown hair and casual posture made him look more like a vagabond than an instructor. He raised the bottle in a lazy salute. "And if you use Aura, report to Instructor Elmer," Duran finished, his tone dripping with disapproval.

Ren stared at Elmer, his brow furrowing. "That guy's an instructor?" he muttered under his breath, the corners of his mouth twitching in bemusement.

The students began splitting into groups based on their abilities. Ren hesitated for a moment before heading toward Albert, joining a group of about 17 students. As he walked, he caught snippets of conversation around him.

"Ugh, we're stuck with him?" one of the students said, his voice dripping with disdain. Ren turned his head slightly and recognized the speaker—it was one of the boys who had stolen his orbs during the test. His two friends stood beside him, their expressions equally sour.

"Yeah, what's a demon spawn doing here?" another added. "Shouldn't they have kicked him out already?"

Ren clenched his teeth, his tail twitching in irritation. His hand instinctively brushed the hilt of his sword, but he stopped himself. 'Not worth it,' he thought, exhaling slowly. 'I'll deal with those bastards later.'

The group gathered around Albert, who greeted them with a bright smile. "Welcome, everyone! I'm Instructor Albert, and I'll be guiding you through the basics of mana manipulation. By the end of this month, you'll be on your way to becoming skilled mana users!"

He reached into a leather bag at his side and pulled out a stack of slim, medieval-style books. The covers were worn but sturdy, with intricate runes embossed along the edges. "This," Albert said, holding one up, "is a basic mana circulation manual. It will teach you how to sense, control, and circulate mana through your body."

Ren accepted a book as Albert handed it to him. The cover felt rough under his fingertips, and the pages smelled faintly of old parchment. He opened it, his eyes scanning the strange, unfamiliar symbols on the first page. Yet, to his surprise, he understood them perfectly.

"Strange," he muttered. "I can read this… but it's not in any language I've seen before."

Albert's voice pulled him from his thoughts. "For those who are new to mana, let me give you a quick overview. Mana users—mages—form circles around their upper Dantian. Each circle is made up of seven stars, which orbit the dantian. Once you gather enough stars, you form a complete circle, unlocking new levels of power."

He placed a hand over his chest, his smile widening. "This energy is channeled through the mana heart, the core of every mage's power. Your journey begins here."

Ren listened intently, his blue eyes gleaming with fascination. His thoughts were a mix of excitement and apprehension. 'A mana heart? Circles? This is nothing like anything I've seen before… but it's incredible.'

Albert clapped his hands, drawing the group's attention. "Alright, everyone! Open your manuals and begin practicing the basic circulation technique. The goal for the first month is to form your first star."

Ren flipped to the first page, scanning the instructions. The language was concise but oddly poetic, describing how to enter a meditative state and sense the flow of mana within the body. He followed the steps carefully, sitting cross-legged on the grass and closing his eyes.

'Feel the energy around you,' the manual instructed. 'Breathe deeply. Let it flow through you like water filling a vessel.'

Ren focused, his breaths slow and deliberate. Ten minutes passed, and nothing happened. Frustration began to creep in.

"Come on," he muttered under his breath. "I felt mana last night. Why can't I do it now?"

Albert noticed his struggle and approached, kneeling beside him. "Having trouble, Ren?" he asked kindly.

"Yeah," Ren admitted, scratching the back of his head. "I can't seem to sense anything."

Albert smiled reassuringly. "That's normal for beginners. Here, let me help." He placed a hand lightly on Ren's back. "Close your eyes and take a deep breath. I'll guide the mana to you."

Ren obeyed, his body relaxing as Albert's presence seemed to calm his nerves. A faint warmth spread from Albert's hand, and for the first time, Ren felt it—a subtle, pulsing energy, like the rhythm of a heartbeat. He focused on the sensation, following the manual's instructions to guide the energy toward his upper dantian.

The process was slow but steady. He could feel the mana gathering, forming the beginnings of a star within him. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he concentrated, his determination unwavering.

After several minutes, Albert withdrew his hand. "Good. You're getting there," he said, standing. "Keep at it, and you'll form your first star soon."

Ren opened his eyes, exhaling deeply. His body felt warm and slightly drained, but there was a spark of hope in his chest. As he glanced down, the now-familiar blue screen appeared before him:

[You have gained 4 Mana.]

[You have learned Mana Circulation: F-]

Ren blinked at the notifications, then hesitated before whispering, "Status window."

The screen shifted, displaying his updated stats:

Name: Ren Takamura

Race: Xenos

Age: 16 yrs 1 month old

Job: None

Mana Stage: 1 Star - 50% (0-Circle)

Cultivation: None

Strength: 12 | Agility: 13

Stamina: 10 | Defense: 11

Focus: 6 | Mana: 4

Passive Skills: [Mana Circulation: F (Level 1/10)]

Active Skills: None

Ren scanned the information, his lips quirking into a faint smile. "Guess I'm getting used to this weird system," he muttered.

Ren sat cross-legged on the training ground, the mana circulation manual open in front of him. The instructions were clear, yet every attempt he made felt like hitting a brick wall.

He closed his eyes again, taking a deep breath. "Come on… focus," he muttered. The words of the manual echoed in his mind: Feel the mana around you. Let it flow to your dantian. Shape it into a star.

Ren inhaled deeply, trying to sense the elusive energy that Albert had briefly awakened in him earlier. His mind reached out, searching for the flow of mana. Slowly, he began to feel a faint warmth near his chest, a whisper of power that danced just out of reach.

"There it is," Ren murmured, his heart pounding with excitement. He guided the mana toward his upper dantian, concentrating with all his might. The energy began to coalesce, its presence growing stronger. It was working—or so he thought.

Suddenly, the flow stopped.

Ren's eyes snapped open as a jolt of pain shot through his chest. The warmth dissipated, leaving only frustration in its wake. "What the hell?" he muttered, clutching his chest. "Why won't it work?"

Refusing to give up, he tried again. Closing his eyes, Ren took another deep breath and focused. This time, he visualized the mana more clearly, imagining it swirling into a glowing point of light. The faint warmth returned, hesitantly pooling in his dantian. He pushed harder, willing it to take shape.

For a moment, it seemed to be working. A tiny spark flickered within him, a hint of the star he sought to form.

Then it shattered.

The backlash was subtle but jarring, leaving him gasping for air. His focus broke, and the mana scattered, slipping through his grasp like water through his fingers.

"Dammit!" Ren shouted, slamming his fist against the ground. His voice echoed through the now-empty training ground, the only other sound the distant chirping of crickets.

When he finally opened his eyes, the world around him was bathed in moonlight. The training area, once bustling with activity, was now nearly deserted. Only a few students remained, diligently practicing their swordsmanship or continuing their mana training.

Ren glanced around, his chest tightening as he realized how far behind he was. Most of the mana practitioners had already succeeded in forming their first star—he could feel their faint, stable mana signatures in the air. Yet here he was, failing time and time again.

He sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. "Let's just take a breather," he muttered, standing up and brushing the dirt off his trousers. His legs wobbled slightly from sitting for so long, but he ignored the discomfort.

Ren headed toward the lake at the center of the running course, the faint ripples of its surface illuminated by the moon. The cool air brushed against his face as he sat down by the water's edge, his reflection staring back at him.

"Am I really cut out to be a mage?" he asked aloud, his voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe I don't belong in this world after all."

He lay back on the grass, staring up at the stars. His mind raced with doubts and frustration, the weight of failure pressing heavily on his chest. The serene night offered no answers, only a stillness that felt deafening.

It was then that he heard the footsteps—the sound of someone approaching.

Ren turned his head toward the sound of footsteps, his body tensing instinctively. In the moonlight, a figure emerged from the shadows. The man had silver hair that shimmered like starlight and striking blue eyes that held an air of mystery. His appearance was unlike any of the locals Ren had encountered—clean-cut, yet effortlessly unbound by the rigid norms of the world Ren was growing accustomed to.

The man stopped a few feet away, tilting his head slightly. "Why are you out here so late, kiddo?" His voice was smooth, laced with an almost playful curiosity.

Ren sat up, brushing the grass off his shirt. "Just needed some fresh air," he replied, though his expression betrayed his words.

The man didn't move, his gaze sharp yet strangely kind. "Fresh air, huh?" he said, his tone teasing but not mocking. "That's quite the somber look for someone just out here for the breeze."

Ren hesitated, his hands clenching the fabric of his trousers. "It's nothing," he muttered, trying to dismiss the man's observation. "Just… didn't go as planned."

The man walked closer, lowering himself to sit cross-legged beside Ren. His movements were casual, almost lazy, but his presence was commanding. "You know, kiddo, you're a terrible liar," he said with a smirk. "So, what's really eating you?"

Ren glanced at him, studying the stranger's face. There was something oddly disarming about him—his demeanor, his voice, the way he seemed to see straight through Ren's defenses. After a pause, Ren sighed. "I couldn't form my mana star," he admitted. "No matter how hard I tried, it just… wouldn't work."

The man leaned back, resting his weight on his palms as he gazed up at the sky. "Ah, the infamous first roadblock," he said lightly. "Happens to a lot of people."

"Does it?" Ren asked, his tone edged with doubt. He gestured toward the training ground in the distance. "Because everyone else seems to be doing just fine."

The man's lips quirked into a wry smile. "And that bothers you, doesn't it? Watching them succeed while you stumble?"

Ren looked away, the words hitting uncomfortably close to home. "I just… I don't know if I'm cut out for this," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe I'm just not meant to be a mage."

The man let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "You think it's about being 'cut out for it'? That it's all about talent?"

Ren frowned, his brows knitting together. "Isn't it?"

"Nope," the man said, popping the "p" with a casual air. He turned to Ren, his blue eyes piercing. "It's about confidence, kiddo. Belief in yourself. Mana doesn't respond to doubts—it thrives on certainty."

Ren blinked, his confusion evident. "Certainty?"

The man nodded. "You doubt yourself, and your mana reflects that. It's like trying to light a fire with damp wood. You've got to believe you can do it, no matter how many times you fail. Otherwise…" He shrugged. "You're just spinning your wheels."

Ren absorbed the words, his mind churning. "Easy for you to say," he muttered. "You probably mastered all this ages ago."

The man laughed, a rich, genuine sound. "You give me too much credit, kiddo. I've had my fair share of stumbling in the dark. And trust me, it's a long road to figuring things out."

Something about the man's honesty struck a chord with Ren. He looked at him more closely. "How old are you, anyway? You don't seem like one of the instructors."

The man grinned, leaning forward conspiratorially. "Take a guess."

Ren tilted his head, scrutinizing him. "Uh… early twenties?"

The man's grin widened, and he let out a soft snicker. "Seventy-eight."

Ren's jaw dropped. "What?!"

"Yep," the man said, clearly enjoying Ren's reaction. "Mana has its perks. Keeps the body spry, the face youthful. You'd be surprised how many people around here are decades older than they look."

Ren stared at him, struggling to wrap his mind around the revelation. "You've got to be kidding…"

The man's grin didn't waver, his expression carrying an air of casual wisdom. "Nope," he said simply, his voice light but steady. Without another word, he pushed himself to his feet, brushing the grass and dirt off his trousers with deliberate ease.

As Ren watched him, the man turned slightly, his gaze softening. "Look, kid," he began, his tone quieter now, more introspective, "all I'm saying is this, for what it's worth, it's never too late to be whoever you want to be."

"I hope you can live a life you're proud of,"

He stepped forward but paused, his head tilting as if weighing his next words. "And if you find that you're not..." His voice trailed off, lingering in the stillness of the night. Then, with a glance back over his shoulder, his blue eyes met Ren's.

"I hope you have the strength to start over."

And with that, the man offered a faint smile, one filled with both kindness and an unspoken understanding, before turning away into the shadows.

Ren watched him, the words sinking in deeper than he expected. "Who… who are you?" he asked as the man began to walk away.

The man waved a hand dismissively. "Names don't matter. Just think of me as a friendly stranger." He turned his head slightly, smirking. "Let's meet again sometime, kiddo."

With that, he disappeared into the shadows, leaving Ren alone by the lake.

Ren stared after him for a long moment before turning his gaze back to the sky. The stars seemed brighter now, their light less distant. He let out a slow breath, the man's words replaying in his mind.

"He's right," Ren muttered, shaking his head. "I wasn't being myself. I've been holding back, doubting everything."

He clenched his fists, determination flickering in his eyes. "No more. I'm going to give this everything I've got. I'll become a mage—no matter what it takes."

Ren pushed himself to his feet, his resolve stronger than ever. "Just watch me," he murmured to the night, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

With a newfound determination, he ran back toward the training ground, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

****

"For what it's worth, it's never too late to be what you want to be. I hope you can live a life you're proud of, and if you find that you are not, I hope you have the strength to start over"

- F. Scott Fritzgerald - September 24, 1896 to December 21, 1940