The sun—Ulth'rk—hung impossibly low on the horizon as Misaki made his way to an open area behind the Labor Guild. His muscles ached from the farm work, but the system's recovery notification had been clear: he was fully healed. Which meant it was time to start addressing his abysmal strength stat.
He started with basics. Push-ups first. He managed eight before his arms gave out. Sit-ups were better—twenty-three before his core muscles screamed in protest. Squats left his legs trembling after thirty repetitions.
I used to be in better shape, he thought grimly. Months in zero gravity really did a number on me.
"Two hours."
Misaki looked up to find Lyria watching him from the doorway, her amber eyes reflecting the low-hanging sun's light.
"Two hours of meditation every fifty-hour cycle," she continued. "Minimum. Your Manipura chakra is stirring, but it won't awaken fully without consistent practice. The physical training is good, but spiritual cultivation is equally important."
"I'll make time," Misaki said, pushing himself into another attempted push-up. His arms wobbled dangerously.
"Tomorrow we'll check your full affinity," Lyria added, a strange smile playing at her lips. "The chief wants a formal assessment before you're allowed into certain areas of the village."
"How do you check affinity?" Misaki asked, managing to complete the push-up before collapsing.
"With your blood." Her smile widened into something almost mischievous. "Don't worry, it only hurts a little."
"Wait, what—"
But Lyria was already walking away, her light laughter trailing behind her.
"Lyria!" Misaki scrambled to his feet and followed. "What do you mean it hurts? How much blood? What exactly are you going to do?"
She didn't answer, just kept walking with that infuriating smile, eventually disappearing into her hut and closing the door firmly behind her.
Misaki stood outside for a moment, debating whether to knock and demand answers. The image of needles and ritual knives filled his mind with increasing dread.
She's messing with me, he decided. Probably.
Maybe.
He returned to the common area behind the Labor Guild, where several other workers were engaged in their own training routines. A lean, muscular man with brown hair caught Misaki's attention. He moved through a series of exercises with fluid precision—pull-ups on a wooden bar, deep lunges with a practice sword held overhead, and controlled breathing exercises between sets.
"You're doing it wrong," the man said without looking at Misaki.
"Excuse me?"
"Your form. You're exercising like someone from a soft world." The man dropped from the pull-up bar and turned to face Misaki. He stood about six-foot-two with the kind of wiry strength that suggested speed and endurance over brute force. "I'm Deylos. Archer class, infantry branch. And you're the sky-faller who couldn't lift Torran's axe."
"News travels fast," Misaki muttered.
"Small village." Deylos gestured to the ground. "Show me your push-up form."
Misaki demonstrated, managing three before his arms gave out.
"Terrible," Deylos said bluntly. "Your elbows are flaring, your core isn't engaged, and you're barely lowering yourself. Here." He dropped into a push-up position. "Elbows tucked at forty-five degrees. Lower until your chest touches the ground. Exhale on the way up, engage your core like you're about to take a hit to the stomach. This isn't about repetitions—it's about building functional strength that translates to combat and labor."
Misaki tried again, following the corrections. His third push-up was agonizing, but he felt muscles engaging that hadn't been properly working before.
"Better," Deylos acknowledged. "People from M'lod don't exercise for appearance. We train to survive. Every movement should serve a purpose. Push-ups build the strength to push yourself off the ground after being knocked down. Squats give you the power to carry a fallen comrade or haul heavy loads. Pull-ups develop the ability to climb, to escape, to fight."
For the next thirty minutes, Deylos walked Misaki through a brutal routine adapted for his current weak state. By the end, Misaki was drenched in sweat and shaking, but he felt something shift—a deeper understanding of how his body should move.
"Here," Deylos said, retrieving a bow from a nearby rack. "Try this. You said you're looking for work. Archery might suit your build better than heavy labor."
The bow was beautiful—carved from dark wood with leather grip wrapping. Misaki took it eagerly, nocked the practice arrow Deylos handed him, and tried to draw the string.
It barely moved.
Misaki gritted his teeth and pulled harder. The string came back perhaps two inches before his arms started shaking. He couldn't hold it. The bow slipped from his grip, and the arrow clattered to the ground.
"Strength four," Deylos said, not unkindly. "Most children in M'lod have strength eight by age ten. You need to at least double your current strength before archery becomes viable." He took the bow back. "Keep training. It'll come."
A deep, resonant bell rang out across the village—not from the temple, but from a central tower Misaki had noticed earlier. The sound echoed three times, and immediately, workers began moving toward the village square.
"Dinner bell," Deylos explained. "Community meal. Come on."
The square had transformed into a massive dining hall. Long wooden tables had been set up in rows, with benches on either side. Villagers filed in with practiced efficiency, taking seats in what seemed to be established positions. At one end of the square, Millia and several assistants worked around large cauldrons suspended over fire pits, steam rising in fragrant clouds.
"Misaki!" Millia called out when she spotted him. "Get over here. I need an extra pair of hands."
Misaki made his way through the crowd. "What do you need?"
"Serve bread. One slice per person, two for the heavy laborers and combat classes. You can tell the difference by the calluses on their hands and their builds. I'll pay you five copper for the service."
Five copper for what, an hour of work? Better rate than farming.
Misaki took his position at one of the distribution tables, where hundreds of bread slices were piled on wooden platters. As villagers filed past, he quickly learned to read the signs Millia had mentioned. The farmers and crafters had moderate builds and specific work calluses. The combat classes—guards, scouts, hunters—had broader shoulders and hands marked by weapon use. He distributed bread accordingly, receiving nods of thanks and occasional curious glances.
The work was simple but oddly satisfying. Misaki found himself settling into a rhythm, and by the time the last villager had been served, he'd developed an appreciation for the communal efficiency of it all.
"Good work," Millia said, handing him five copper coins. "Eat now, before it's all gone."
Misaki filled a bowl with stew—different from the night before, this one thicker and featuring chunks of what looked like mushrooms—and found a seat at one of the tables. The bread was dense and hearty, perfect for soaking up the rich broth.
After eating, he found Millia cleaning the cauldrons. "Can I ask you something?"
"If it's quick. I've got prep work for tomorrow."
"Could I work in the kitchens? I'm good at following recipes, and I learn fast."
Millia paused, giving him a long, measuring look. "The kitchen is sacred space. We prepare food that nourishes not just the body but the spirit. Every ingredient is chosen for its properties, every dish designed to support chakra development or healing or strength building. I can't have someone in there who doesn't understand the fundamentals of power." She softened slightly at his expression. "Once you've had your affinity checked and you understand which chakra system you belong to, we can revisit this. Until then, stick to serving and farm work."
Disappointed but understanding, Misaki wandered the village as the evening deepened. The light from Ulth'rk had turned from amber to deep crimson, and the two visible planets—Tash'kar and Myrulen—shone brighter against the darkening sky.
He found himself drawn to a building he hadn't noticed before, partially built into a hillside with a curved roof that seemed to spiral upward. Above the entrance, carved in elegant script, was a single word: Ygr'kim.
The library.
Inside, the space opened into a circular chamber lined floor to ceiling with shelves carved directly into the stone walls. Books, scrolls, and bound manuscripts filled every available surface. The air smelled of old paper and leather and something else—a faint ozone scent that reminded Misaki of electrical equipment.
An elderly woman sat at a central desk, her white hair bound in a complex series of braids. "Sky-faller," she said without looking up from the manuscript she was annotating. "Browse as you wish. Don't remove anything from the building. Don't eat or drink near the texts. Don't damage anything or I'll have your hands."
"Understood," Misaki said quickly.
He wandered the shelves, running his fingers along spines until one title caught his attention: "Fundamental Principles of Power: A Comparative Study of Magical Systems."
He pulled the book down and found a comfortable alcove with a reading lamp. The text was dense and academic, but Misaki's engineering mind appreciated the systematic approach.
Chapter One: The Dual Nature of Vulcan's Power
Vulcan is unique among known worlds in that it hosts two distinct yet interconnected systems of power: the Mana-Based System and the Chakra-Based System. While both systems allow practitioners to manipulate reality, they operate on fundamentally different principles.
The Mana-Based System draws power from external sources—ambient magical energy that permeates the world, stored within dungeons, artifacts, and certain natural locations. Practitioners of mana-based magic are often called "mages" or "wizards." They manipulate this external energy through formulas, incantations, and carefully structured spell patterns. The advantage of mana-based magic is its versatility and raw power. The disadvantage is its dependence on external sources and the extensive study required to master complex spell structures.
The Chakra-Based System, by contrast, is internal. Power flows from within the practitioner through seven energy centers aligned along the spine and head. Each chakra corresponds to an element and type of manifestation. Practitioners awaken their chakras through meditation, physical discipline, and spiritual cultivation. The advantage of chakra-based power is its reliability and the deep connection between practitioner and ability. The disadvantage is that it requires consistent maintenance and cannot easily access the raw power reserves available to mana users.
Misaki read with growing fascination. The next section detailed the split he'd heard mentioned.
The Fifty-Fifty Divide
Approximately half the population of Vulcan manifests affinity for the mana-based system, while the other half develops chakra-based abilities. This division is determined by planetary alignment at two critical moments: conception and birth.
When a child is conceived, the positions of Vulcan's twelve celestial bodies create an initial energy signature. This signature is further refined at the moment of birth, when the planetary positions have shifted to new configurations. The interaction between these two alignments determines which system the individual will naturally align with and, in the case of chakra users, which specific chakras will be most accessible.
The mechanism behind this determination remains poorly understood. Some scholars theorize that the gravitational forces of the planets influence spiritual development at the cellular level. Others suggest that the planets themselves are conscious entities that "choose" individuals for specific paths. What is certain is that the alignments are predictable and can be calculated with astronomical precision, allowing parents to roughly predict their child's power system before birth.
Misaki leaned back, processing this information. His mind immediately began analyzing the implications. If planetary positions determined power systems, then his arrival—coming from outside the system entirely—must have created some kind of anomaly. The system had integrated him, but without the normal conception and birth alignments, how had it determined his path?
He continued reading, taking mental notes on the differences between mana manipulation and chakra cultivation, the various sub-categories of each system, the historical conflicts between mana and chakra practitioners, and the rare individuals who showed affinity for both systems.
After two hours of intense study, Misaki's eyes began to blur. He returned the book to its shelf, thanked the librarian—who grunted in acknowledgment without looking up—and made his way to the Labor Guild's common sleeping area.
The room was filled with simple bedrolls laid out in rows. Misaki claimed an empty spot in the corner, lay down on the surprisingly comfortable padding, and was asleep within minutes.
He woke ten hours later to the sound of activity around him. Every other person in the common area was also rising, stretching, preparing for their day. The synchronized awakening was eerie but efficient.
"What happens at night?" Misaki asked a nearby worker who was rolling up his bedroll.
The man looked at him quizzically. "We work. Same as day. Why would night be different?"
"I just mean... with a fifty-hour cycle, how do you organize time?"
Before the worker could answer, a voice spoke from the doorway. "We organize by need, not arbitrary divisions."
Misaki turned to see an elderly man in flowing robes enter the common area. He was impossibly old—his face a map of wrinkles, his long white beard reaching past his waist—but he moved with surprising grace. His eyes glowed with a faint inner light that Misaki recognized as a sign of powerful chakra awakening.
"I am Eldrion," the old man said. "Mage, seventh circle, and advisor to Chief Shy'yao. And you, young sky-faller, think in terms of day and night because your world rotated faster."
"That's... yes, exactly," Misaki said.
"Vulcan's rotation is slower. Our 'day' and 'night' periods are each twenty-five hours. Rather than forcing artificial schedules, we work according to task requirements." Eldrion gestured around the common area. "Some jobs are specific to the light hours—farming, construction, detailed craftwork. Others are specific to darkness—hunting nocturnal beasts, gathering certain herbs that bloom only under starlight, guard duty against predators that avoid Ulth'rk's light."
"So people just... work whenever the task requires?"
"We organize in shifts. Some sleep during light hours, work during darkness. Others reverse it. Some, like myself, sleep in shorter increments and work across both periods. You'll find your own rhythm." The old mage's glowing eyes studied Misaki with unsettling intensity. "Though I suspect you'll need to adapt many of your assumptions about how the world works."
After Eldrion left, Misaki made his way outside and immediately stopped, his brain struggling to process what he saw.
The rings of Vulcan had moved.
Not slightly—dramatically. The massive arcs that had stretched across the northern sky now dominated the western horizon, their angle completely different from the day before. The planets visible in the sky had changed too—Tash'kar and Myrulen had been replaced by two different celestial bodies, one deep blue and one that seemed to shimmer with multiple colors.
That's not possible, Misaki thought. The orbital mechanics don't work. For the rings to shift that much in fifty hours... the planet would have to be rotating at an impossible speed, or the rings would have to be...
He stopped himself. This wasn't Earth. Physics here operated under different rules—or additional rules he didn't understand yet. The sooner he accepted that, the easier his life would be.
Near the village perimeter, he spotted guards patrolling with torches and weapons. In the darkness beyond, eyes reflected the torchlight—animals or beasts watching the settlement, kept at bay by fire and vigilant defenders.
Misaki found his way to the farm fields, where Millia was organizing the night shift workers.
"You're up," she observed. "Looking for work?"
"Whatever you've got."
"Watering duty. The starc fields need irrigation every cycle. Two copper per hour." She handed him a wooden bucket and pointed toward a well. "Fill, carry, pour. Simple. Don't overwater—the system will tell you when each plant has had enough."
"The system?"
Millia tapped her temple. "Your interface. Once you start working, it'll give you guidance. One of the benefits of the system integration—it helps prevent mistakes in essential tasks."
Misaki spent the next five hours hauling water from the well to the fields. True to Millia's word, the system interface began providing feedback:
[Watering starc plant 47 of 200]
[Optimal hydration reached. Move to next plant.]
Between trips, he talked with other night shift workers. An older farmer named Urath told him stories about the great beast attacks of decades past. A young woman named Vel'shar-qa explained the difference between starc varieties and their nutritional properties. A builder called Shorn described the upcoming construction project to expand the village's defensive walls.
Each conversation added to Misaki's understanding of M'lod—its history, its struggles, its community bonds forged through shared hardship.
As he finished watering the last plant, the horizon began to lighten. Ulth'rk was rising—a slow, massive ascent that painted the sky in gradients of orange and gold. The enormous star climbed degree by degree, and Misaki watched in awe as the landscape transformed under its light.
He collected his ten copper coins from Millia and made his way back toward the village center, where Lyria had said to meet her.
She was waiting near the temple, but she wasn't alone.
Chief Shy'yao stood with three other elders, all wearing ceremonial robes. Two priests flanked them, holding what looked like ceremonial implements. And in the center of the group, placed on a simple stone altar, was a piece of hide—rough and scaled, about the size of a dinner plate.
"Misaki Haruto," Chief Shy'yao intoned formally. "Approach."
Misaki walked forward, very aware of the eyes watching him. Other villagers had gathered at a respectful distance, curious about the formal affinity testing.
"Place your hand upon the dungeon beast hide," one of the priests instructed.
The hide was cool to the touch and slightly rough. Misaki pressed his palm flat against it and waited.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the hide began to glow—a soft yellow light that spread from where his hand touched outward across the entire surface. The light pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat, growing brighter with each beat.
"Yellow," the priest pronounced. "The color of Manipura. He belongs to the Chakra System. Fire element affinity, with potential for expansion to adjacent chakras."
Relief washed through the assembled crowd—murmurs of approval and nods of understanding. Apparently, being assigned to one of the major systems was better than the alternatives.
"Am I a mage then?" Misaki asked, confused. "Does this mean I can use magic?"
"No," the second priest said, his tone gentle but firm. "You are not a mage. Mages belong to the Mana System—they manipulate external magical energy through structured spells and formulas. You belong to the Chakra System. You will develop internal power through meditation and cultivation, manifesting abilities tied to your awakened chakras."
"It's a common confusion," Lyria added. "Especially for outsiders. Both systems can produce effects that look like magic—fire, healing, enhanced strength. But the mechanisms are completely different."
The first priest stepped forward. "Mana users draw power from the world—from dungeons, from ley lines, from accumulated magical energy. Their power is vast but requires extensive study and access to external sources. They cast spells with words, gestures, and material components."
"Chakra users," the second priest continued, "generate power from within. We open energy centers along the spine through meditation and discipline. Our abilities are extensions of ourselves—not spells we cast, but powers we embody. A mana user might cast a fireball spell by channeling external energy through a formula. You, once your Manipura chakra fully awakens, will be able to generate fire directly from your body's internal energy."
"The advantage," Chief Shy'yao added, "is that your power goes with you always. No need for spell books or material components. The disadvantage is that you must maintain it through regular meditation and ritual, or the chakras will close and your power will fade."
Misaki absorbed this, understanding clicking into place. "So it's more like... a trained ability than learned magic."
"Precisely," the chief said, seeming pleased. "You have been assigned to the Chakra System, with fire as your primary affinity. You must now dedicate yourself to awakening your Manipura chakra fully, and in time, you may unlock access to other chakras. But that will take discipline, training, and patience."
The priests removed the dungeon beast hide from the altar, and the ceremony concluded. Villagers began dispersing, though many cast curious glances at Misaki as they went.
Lyria approached with a slight smile. "See? The blood ritual wasn't that bad."
"You didn't even use blood," Misaki pointed out.
"I know. But your face when I mentioned it was priceless." She laughed at his expression. "Come. You've been up all night working. You should eat and rest. Tomorrow, we begin your chakra training in earnest."
As they walked back toward the village, Misaki felt the weight of new understanding settling over him. He wasn't a mage. He was a chakra cultivator, a practitioner of internal power. His path would be different from what he'd imagined, but it was his path.
And he was ready to walk it.
[NEW QUEST: Path of Fire]
[Objective: Fully Awaken Manipura Chakra (8% → 100%)]
[Reward: Fire Manipulation Abilities, Class Advancement Options]