In the world of Eldoria, power was not inherited through crowns or bloodlines alone.
It was cultivated.
From the moment a child was born, their fate was weighed not by their first cry or the warmth of their body, but by whether mana acknowledged their existence.
Magic was not simply an art here. It was the axis upon which society turned, the invisible current shaping nations, faiths, wars, and worth. Every stone city, every floating tower, every rune-carved road was a testament to one truth etched into history:
Those who commanded mana ruled.
Those who did not were ruled.
Magic cultivation followed a rigid, universally accepted progression, recorded in academies, enforced by mage guilds, and whispered like scripture among the masses.
The first stage was known as Sparkless. It was not truly considered a stage at all.
Sparkless individuals possessed no mana sensitivity, no awakened nodes, no connection to the ambient flow of magic that saturated the world. They could not feel mana, could not draw it in, could not circulate it through their bodies.
To magic, they were empty vessels, hollows. In polite society, Sparkless were referred to as mundanes.
In truth, they were treated as failures.
Above Sparkless lay Mana Awakening, the moment when dormant mana nodes within the body opened for the first time. A child who awakened could sense mana, feel it like warmth under the skin, pressure in the chest, or whispers behind the eyes.
Awakening marked the moment one was acknowledged by magic itself.
From there came Mana Channeling, when crude pathways were carved through flesh and spirit, allowing mana to circulate rather than tear the body apart. Those who reached this stage could reliably cast spells, though their control remained unstable.
Mana Core Formation followed, the condensation of mana into a stable core, transforming a practitioner from a mere student into a true mage. With a core came longevity, status, and the right to carry arms.
Beyond that lay Core Condensation, Elemental Manifestation, and the higher realms that elevated mages from soldiers to rulers, and rulers to living calamities.
But those stages were distant legends to common folk.
And each cultivation stages where divided into, 9 Tiers and each tiers was further classified into (Early / Mid / Late / Peak). Tier 1 to 3 where early sub levels, Tier 4 to 5 where mid sub levels, Tier 6 to 7 where late sub levels and Tier 8 to 9 where peak sub levels.
For most families, there was only one question that mattered:
Did the child awaken?.
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A world where mana saturation varied by region, shaping everything from geography to politics. Cities were built atop mana veins that ran like arteries beneath the ground. Mountains existed not because of tectonic shifts, but because mana density had crystallized the land upward over millennia.
Plants glowed faintly at night, absorbing ambient mana to accelerate growth. Animals evolved around it, developing natural affinities—beasts that breathed fire, creatures that dissolved into mist, predators whose claws could cut through steel when reinforced by mana.
Humans were no different, they were born into mana, literally, at birth, a child's body would begin absorbing ambient mana instinctively, guided by dormant channels passed down through bloodlines. Over time, those channels widened and strengthened, allowing greater control and storage.
This was called Mana Awakening.
It was the first step.
Children born into such an environment almost always awakened.
Most children awakened between the ages of three and six. Early awakeners were celebrated as geniuses. Late awakeners were pitied.
Those who never awakened at all?. They were called Sparkless.
Failure was rare.
And because it was rare, it was unforgivable.
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Consciousness returned slowly, like a reluctant tide creeping back toward shore.
Vince gradually woke up after sleeping who knows how long.
There was no sharp transition, no sudden snap from darkness to light. Instead, awareness seeped in piece by piece, sensations first, then impressions, then thoughts struggling to form inside a mind trapped in a body that could barely move.
Warmth, that was the first thing he noticed.
A steady, enveloping warmth pressed against his skin from all sides, as though the world itself was holding him. Beneath it lay a faint rhythmic vibration, subtle, omnipresent, like a pulse woven into the air.
He did not know what it was yet, but some instinct deep within him recognized it as dangerous.
His eyelids fluttered open.
Light filtered through fabric, soft and golden, not the harsh glare of fluorescent bulbs or neon signs he remembered from Earth. The glow carried weight to it, a density that made his eyes ache.
Even without seeing clearly, he felt as though the light itself contained substance.
Gradually he remembered he was just reborn into this magical world, and he was Sparkless, people known for not having a talent to become a mage. Although he was still a baby, but as someone who was once an adult he read the atmosphere.
He heard voices murmuring nearby, low, controlled, and careful.
"…still unstable."
"…mana reaction has subsided, but—"
"…never seen anything like it."
The door creaked open.
Footsteps approached.
Vince's eyes shifted toward the sound just as a figure came into view.
A man, Vince suddenly felt a familiar feeling, like this man was close to him, "I think this is my dad" he thought, his eyes sparkling.
Aron Hale was a famous mage, he was calm, handsome and well built. He was one of the high ranking mages in Eldoria having reached Mana core formation at 33 years, he was once hailed as a genius from the Hale family.
The woman cradled him carefully, her arms trembling slightly. Her hair was dark, tied back loosely, strands falling across a tired face marked by worry and something dangerously close to fear.
Her clothes were simple but well-made, woven with faintly shimmering threads that responded to the ambient mana with a soft glow.
The man stood beside her, taller, broader, his posture rigid. He wore a long coat adorned with embroidered symbols that radiated controlled power. Each symbol pulsed in time with the mana in the air, forming a protective pattern around his body.
A mage.
Vince didn't know how he knew that, he just did.
"His breathing is steady," the woman said softly, though her voice shook. "He's awake".
The man studied Vince closely, his eyes sharp and calculating. They glowed faintly, just barely, when they lingered on him.
"Open your hand," the man said.
The woman hesitated. "He's still so small"
"I know," the man interrupted. "Just a moment."
Reluctantly, she adjusted her grip, exposing Vince's tiny hand.
The man extended a finger and placed it gently against Vince's palm.
The effect was immediate.
Pain erupted inside him.
It wasn't physical pain, not exactly. It was deeper, more invasive, like something trying to force its way into him through every pore, every breath, every fragile vein.
Mana surged.
Vince felt it like a tidal wave crashing against a cliff. Instinct screamed at him to resist. He didn't know how. Didn't know what he was resisting. But something inside him recoiled violently, rejecting the foreign force with absolute hostility.
His chest tightened, his vision blurred.
Then, the mana shattered.
A sharp crack echoed through the room, like glass breaking under pressure. The glowing lines in the stone ceiling flickered violently, some dimming, others flaring too brightly before stabilizing.
The man staggered back, ripping his hand away as though burned.
"What—" he breathed.
The woman gasped. "What did you do?!"
"I didn't" The man stared at his fingers in disbelief. "I barely channeled anything. That reaction shouldn't be possible.
Vince's body trembled uncontrollably as the last traces of mana pressure dissipated. He let out a thin cry, more reflex than emotion, his lungs burning from the strain.
The woman clutched him protectively. "Don't touch him again!"
The man swallowed, his face pale. "That wasn't normal." "I didn't mean anything, I just wanted to check up on my son"
"No mana," the woman whispered, as if hoping the words would somehow become less real if spoken quietly. "You said he had no mana. Then how could he"
"I don't know," the man admitted.
Silence stretched between them, heavy and oppressive.
Xander listened, absorbing everything.
No mana.
The phrase echoed in his mind again. This few times he had heard this word, he understood one thing.
Here?
Mana wasn't a weapon you wielded, it was the foundation of reality.
The man finally exhaled slowly, forcing composure back into his posture.
"We need to be careful. This house is in a high-density zone. Even infants with weak talent usually start absorbing ambient mana within hours of birth."
The woman's grip tightened. "And him?"
"He's not absorbing anything," the man said grimly. "If anything… it's the opposite."
Xander felt it too.
The constant pressure in the air pressed against his skin, but instead of flowing into him, it slid away, repelled, as though his body rejected mana on a fundamental level.
Like oil and water.
"What does that mean?" the woman asked.
The man hesitated. "In this world," he said slowly, "mana is life. It fuels growth, strengthens the body, sharpens the mind. Without it…"
He trailed off.
The implication hung unspoken between them. Vince understood it perfectly.
This world did not just use magic.
It ran on it.
" I still can't believe my son won't be able to become a mage" Aron shook his head. "That's all for the best though, because the magic world is has its dangerous side, his my son, so, I will definitely protect him, he can just live the rest of his life as a normal mortal."
The woman besides him(Beatrice) had her eyes filled with tears as she gazed at her husband then her son. "Yes, we will protect him together".
Vince after listening to their words and their faces filled with love, he wanted to say something but ended up saying rubbish.
"So cute, Aron touched his son check.
Vince felt like crying, "So this is what it's feels like to have a family, dad, mum, don't worry, I have a system I won't disappoint you both" and with that he started laughing as they tickled him.