The Verdant Merchant

The teacher walked slowly between the rows of desks, boots echoing softly on the old stone floor.

"I know the Awakening is just five days away," he said, tapping his rune tablet.

Light flickered, and a faint projection shimmered above it a branching diagram glowing in soft blue hues.

"So let's talk about something that actually matters: the world's system of power."

The students leaned in.

Rowen looked up from his worn desk, his fingers pausing on the frayed edge of his tablet.

"There are many known paths," the teacher began. "Some are more common, others… rare, or even forgotten in some regions."

He pointed to the first glowing symbol.

"Mage," he said. "Magician They shape the world through Mana. Elemental casters, alchemists, and formation scribes all fall under this branch."

A second symbol flared beside it.

"Knight," he continued. "The tempered warriors who internalize mana, strengthening their bodies and weapons. Their power lies in technique, endurance, and close combat."

A third.

"Tamer." The projection shifted into the shape of a beast's silhouette. "They form contracts with magical creatures, some through crystals, others through shared soul bonds. Dangerous and often misunderstood."

The next symbol was less defined.

"Artisan." A surprised murmur passed through the class. "Yes, artisans. Blacksmiths who forge mana-infused weapons. Weavers of enchanted cloth. Builders of runed machines. Not all paths lead to the battlefield."

The teacher smiled slightly and tapped again.

"Healers, priests, spiritualists, summoners." Each name lit briefly in the air before fading.

"And many others," he added. "Some are known to the federations; others are unknown. The world is wide—don't think these walls define all that's possible. After all, the Awakening only reveals what your soul is tuned to. Sometimes, it reveals something... unexpected."

The lights faded. A silence hung in the room, heavier than before.

Rowen stared at the desk, his thoughts drifting again.

The lights from the rune tablet dimmed completely, and the room seemed colder for a moment.

The teacher's tone shifted, lower now—more grounded.

"Of course," he said, folding his arms, "not everyone awakens."

A hush settled over the students.

"When the device fails to respond... when no path lights up... the government calls them Pathless..."

Rowen's hand tensed slightly on the edge of his desk.

"They can still live normal lives as farmers, traders, and workers, and yes, some even make names for themselves. But without a path, they'll never cultivate, never advance."

He looked around the room, eyes lingering a little too long on Rowen.

"They'll always be... left behind."

Then, with a clap of his hands, the teacher forced a smile. "But we won't worry about that just yet, will we?

He waved his hand over the rune-etched panel on the wall, and glowing script began appearing line by line as he spoke, responding to the motion of his fingers.

"There are ten ranks shared across all recognized paths."

he said. "Each rank has ten sub-levels, and advancement requires a combination of magical crystal absorption, combat experience, and mental cultivation.

He began listing them:

"Apprentice, Trainee, Adept, Expert, Master, Grandmaster, Legend, Sage, False God, and finally… Demi-God.

A flicker of awe rippled through the students

"These titles are more than names. They define what you can do—the power you can wield and the places you can go.

The rune tablet powered down with a soft chime, and the teacher dismissed the class. Students began filing out, some buzzing with excitement, others quiet and pensive.

Calen lingered behind, nudging Rowen lightly with his elbow. "You spaced out again," he said with a grin

Rowen blinked. "Did I?

Calen slung his schoolbag over his shoulder, then leaned in a bit, voice low. "So… what do you want it to be? Your path, I mean."

Rowen hesitated. "I don't know."

"Come on," Calen said, eyes glinting with curiosity. "Everyone's got something. You can tell me. Knight? Mage? Or do you secretly want to ride wyverns into battle as a Tamer?"

Rowen gave a faint smile. "I just… hope it's something. Anything.

The next day, early in the morning,

The bell rang sharp and early, echoing through the cold stone halls of the school.

Rowen sat in his usual seat, second from the front, with Calen just behind him. The classroom buzzed with anxious energy—not from mischief or boredom, but from the ticking clock.

Tomorrow is the Awakening.

What everyone did know was that the Haren family lived far up in the upper-town ring. And yet, here he was standing among the sons of merchants, farmers, and day laborers.

"At ease," Principal Deren said calmly. His voice was quiet but carried through the room like a low hum of magic. "You all know what tomorrow is."

The classroom was silent.

"The federal Awakening exam," he continued, "is not just a test. It's your first step toward your future. If the monolith accepts you, you'll receive a basic mana crystal."

He drew a crystal from his coat, thumb-sized and glowing faintly blue.

"Crystals like this are used in tools, enchantments, healing, and currency. Especially in the upper cities."

He let the silence hang.

"But remember: not everyone awakens. And not everyone gets to choose their path. That's why your written exam matters. It may be the only thing that earns you a recommendation."

He looked around the room once more.

"Study well."

And with that, he turned and left, his coat whispering along the stone floor.

Instructor Marn gave a dry cough. "Focus."

Rowen opened his book.

He didn't care about the crystal.

He just didn't want to be left behind.

"Rowen."

His name echoes across the field.

He steps forward.

The line behind him shifts. He ignores the murmurs and fixes his eyes on the Awakening Device—a towering structure of obsidian stone and silver veins, humming with stored mana. Its faint glow reflects in his eyes.

Rowen walks toward it, hands cold despite the sun. His mind is blank—not with calm, but with the kind of fear that swallows thought.

He places his hand against the stone.

A subtle warmth trickles through his fingertips.

Then... nothing.

The device hums, as it always does, but no runes light up. No surge of energy. No mark of path or potential. Just the quiet, steady pulse of mana within the device—unchanged

Rowen's brow furrows. He presses harder. Tries to focus.

He feels something stir. Faint. Fuzzy. Like a thread brushing the edge of his mind.

But before he can grasp it—

"Step aside," the instructor says, tone clipped.

Rowen hesitates, hand still on the stone. "Wait, I—"

"You're done," the instructor cuts in.

He pulls his hand back slowly. His chest is tight.

He turns and walks away under the weight of a thousand eyes.

Whispers trail behind him.

"Failed?"

"No reaction?"

"Not even a glow?"

He sits back in the group, staring at his palm.

Unseen to him—far beneath the skin, past flesh and bone—a mote of mana pulses softly.

Awakened.

But unnoticed.

The last name is called. The final student steps back from the Awakening Device.

It powers down with a soft hum, the silver veins fading to dark.

A tall instructor steps forward—not a local teacher, but someone from the federal division. His uniform bears the crest of the central government. His presence alone silences the crowd.

He speaks, voice calm but firm. "To all students—the Awakening phase is now complete."

A pause. His eyes scan across the field, stopping nowhere in particular.

"Those of you who have awakened a Path—Mage, Knight, Tamer, or otherwise—congratulations. You've taken your first step. But understand this clearly: awakening is not enough."

He gestures toward the horizon. "In six months' time, you will face the Annual Examination. This includes written testing, a wilderness hunt, and direct competition. Your strength, control, decision-making, and survival instincts will be tested."

"Your scores will determine your ranking. The highest-ranked students will be eligible for selection by institutions like the Federal University and top-tier private academies. Opportunities that decide the course of your life."

Murmurs ripple through the crowd—half excitement, half fear.

The instructor continues, "As for those who did not awaken—don't despair. You still have time to grow. Focus on your written exams and prepare for the practical assessment. Every year, some who awaken late or perform exceptionally still earn spots in good academies. Discipline, theory, and strategy—these matter as much as raw power."

Rowen sits quietly, the instructor's words echoing inside him.

Rowen says nothing.

He stares at the device—cold and dim now.

A dull weight settles in his chest.

He didn't awaken.

And just like that, all the excitement he'd carried for years… faded.

He had no interest in examinations, in rankings, or in any of it.

Not anymore.

Students begin dispersing, talking in excited clusters—some celebrating, others comparing their newly awakened Paths. Laughter, shouts, tears… A mix of emotions swirls in the late afternoon air.

Rowen walks in silence.

Calen catches up to him. "Rowen… hey. Wait up."

Rowen doesn't stop. Calen matches his pace.

"I know how it feels," Calen says gently. "You gave everything for this."

Rowen exhales through his nose, not looking at him. "It wasn't enough."

"You don't know that," Calen replies. "Some awaken late. Some go unnoticed. Maybe it's—"

"I don't want maybes," Rowen cuts him off, voice sharp but not loud. "I didn't come here for sympathy."

There's an awkward pause.