Chronicles of the Untalented

The training grounds smelled faintly of soot and damp stone. Silas liked that. It was familiar — the quiet, scorched dirt, the echo of old duels. He had come to test his new spells, all three of them still fresh and unproven, but instead, he paused just beyond the southern wall.

A crowd had gathered.

At the center of the ring stood a boy with rust-colored hair, no older than seventeen. His effigy was tall, muscular, crafted of sun-baked clay and burnished brass. Runes were etched deep into its chest, glowing like smoldering coal. The boy's hands were bloodied from drawing the twin ritual circles on the stone — one large, one smaller — and incense burned low in a cracked bronze bowl.

This was The Calling of Depths.

A standard ritual. No cathedral oversight. Just discipline, precision, and risk.

Silas narrowed his eyes. Even from here, he could feel the heat building in the air. Fire path. It pulsed with pressure — not explosive, but dense, steady. Like breath trapped in a kiln.

The boy stepped into his circle. His effigy into the other.

Then the wind changed.

His soul pulse and rippled through the stone, and shadows curled outward, not from the boy, but toward him — drawn from some place darker, deeper. It was like watching chains sink into water.

Soul beasts appeared, but they were weak — sluggish, flickering things — and the boy's aura did not waver. His soul steadied the ritual. His effigy shimmered gold as the runes came alive.

When it was done, the light faded, and in its place, a shimmering aura clung faintly to the effigy like embers in smoke.

A Learner.

Silas watched, strangely impressed. When the crowd thinned, he approached the boy, who was still catching his breath, his clothes damp with sweat.

"You handled that well," Silas said.

The boy looked up. "Thanks. Didn't expect it to be that intense."

"What's your name?"

"Kael."

"Want to test your new strength?"

Kael raised an eyebrow.

Silas grinned. "I need to test some new spells. Let's make it clean. No killing."

Kael gave a lopsided smile. "Alright. Let's see what you've got, novice."

---

They stood on opposite sides of the training field.

Silas's effigy mirrored him. Kael's effigy gave off ripples of dry heat. Sparks drifted from its joints like flint on steel.

Velira stood by the edge, arms folded, watching with half-concern, half-curiosity.

"Three spells," Silas muttered to himself. "Just three."

First — Void Clot. He whispered the trigger word, and a viscous bolt of half-liquid shadow formed in his effigy's hand and launched forward.

Kael's effigy dodged, barely — the clot grazed its side, and a sickly black smear clung there, sizzling with entropy. The wound didn't regenerate.

Second — Ashpiercer Bolt. Light and dark combined. His effigy extended its palm and a crackling bolt of blinding ashlight shot forward like a spear.

It struck Kael's effigy directly — but rather than burning, the bolt simply staggered it, knocking it back with force more than damage.

Kael responded immediately.

His effigy's arm burst into flame and launched a Scorchbrand — a narrow beam of fire that cut a molten line through the dirt and seared across Silas's effigy's side.

Silas hissed. He wasn't hurt, but the heat transfer echoed through their shared tether.

Third — Mistfang Latch. He muttered the words, and his effigy exhaled a rush of foggy black tendrils. The mist curled unnaturally fast, seeking Kael's effigy's limbs, trying to bind and bleed.

Kael's response was brutal.

His effigy surged forward through the mist and Furnace Vein activated — its limbs glowed red-hot as it landed a heavy punch into Silas's effigy's chest, shattering the ribs and knocking it clean off its feet.

It was over.

Silas coughed and muttered, "Well… that answers that."

Kael smirked and offered a hand. "You've got good ideas. Just not enough power yet."

---

Later that night, Silas stared at the ceiling of his home, his ribs sore from the soul backlash.

He owed Velira ten contribution points for materials.

He owed his mother twenty-five more for the rune erasure and effigy repairs.

He had to start paying them back.

The mission board in the outer hallway of the cathedral was already flickering with new offers.

One in particular caught his eye:

"Resource Recovery – Iron Mine 17 go and pick up metals and materials from the mines south of here(group of four) . Reward: 40 contribution points."

Not glamorous. Not safe. But manageable.

Silas tore it from the board.

"Time to dig," he muttered.

And with that, he headed into the night.