The rain against the high, arched windows of the Synkar ancestral manor was a relentless, gray curtain, mirroring the gloom that had settled deep within Rhyse Synkar's thirteen-year-old heart. A month. It had been a month since the funeral and the whispers of condolence had faded, leaving only the oppressive silence of a house – no, an empire – suddenly without its masters.
Rhyse stood in his late father's study, a room that had always felt intimidatingly large, filled with the scent of aged paper and the faint metallic smell of magical tools. Polished obsidian shelves lined the walls, filled not only with leather-bound tomes but with glowing crystal matrices, intricate clockwork mechanisms humming faintly with magic power, and prototypes of devices Rhyse barely understood – artifacts that had cemented the Synkar name across kingdoms.
His gaze drifted to the grand portrait above the cold hearth, a meticulously crafted piece depicting generations of Synkar brilliance. Theron Synkar, the legendary Nexus Architect, his great-grandfather, the man single-handedly responsible for building the Synkar family business into a sprawling empire. Beside him stood his wife, Elara, her painted eyes serene and wise, a subtle smile playing on her lips.
Positioned beneath them in the portrait were his grandparents, Roland and Vivienne Synkar, whose stern and capable visages conveyed the unyielding determination that had driven the Synkar family's business expansion. And finally, at the bottom of the portrait, closest to the mantle, were his parents, Corbin and Evelyn Synkar, their faces etched with a warmth that now felt like a physical ache in Rhyse's chest. He reached out a hand, almost expecting to feel the warmth of his mother's cheek and the reassuring strength of his father's grip. Instead, his fingers met only the cold glass of the frame.
His parents, Corbin the knight and Evelyn the mage, had perished during a perilous mission sanctioned by the kingdom itself. As a formidable 6th Rank duo, with a powerful combination of martial prowess and arcane mastery, they were exceptionally qualified for their objective: to explore the depths of a newly unearthed ruin nestled deep within the secure borders of an allied duchy.
The official reports mentioned a freak arcane surge within the ruins, yet the circumstances remained disturbingly vague, shrouded in inconsistencies that whispered of something far more sinister—a tragic and deeply suspicious end.
Even before any official messenger arrived or carefully worded condolences were offered, Rhyse knew. He was the first to learn of their deaths, the agonizing truth delivered not by words, but by the sudden and startling appearance of the Synkar Core in his body. The Synkar Core was the most guarded secret of their lineage. While not even his father could properly control it and remained oblivious to its mysteries, it functioned as a vital anchor tied to the family head's life force, and was a secret entrusted only to the current leader and the designated heir.
He was then Rhyse Synkar, sole heir to it all. An empire founded on invention that stretched across continents, boasting wonders from self-regulating mana conduits to other sophisticated magical devices. A wealth immense enough to inspire the envy of kings.
And he was utterly, terrifyingly powerless. A cruel irony dictated that the heir to the greatest artificer lineage in generations was born entirely inert to magic – unable to channel mana or wield aura. This congenital problem rendered practical artificer training impossible, confining his understanding to theories. Let alone the intricate magic weaving and theoretical framework required to become an artificer, he barely had the knowledge to manage the Synkar holdings. He possessed a sharp intellect, yes, but it was the untested mind of a boy, now adrift on an ocean of sudden responsibility, keenly aware of the circling sharks closing in.
While the Synkar name still commanded immense wealth and influence across the kingdoms, a quiet truth lay beneath the surface: the family's personal prowess hadn't touched the heights of its founder for over a century. The empire Theron Synkar forged was a marvel, its foundations so strong they endured long after his passing. But he remained the sole Rank 8 Nexus Architect in their lineage. His descendants, while often capable, faced the daunting reality of magical progression – the chasm separating the commendable Rank 6 from the truly elite Rank 7 was vast, a barrier insurmountable for most. Those few who ascended beyond were whispered of as living legends.
In Rhyse's parents' generation, the divergence from the founding craft was complete. Corbin, his father, was a respected Rank 6 Knight; Evelyn, his mother, an accomplished Rank 6 Mage. Neither held the specific, intricate genius required to personally direct the artificer heart of Synkar Industries. Their leadership, while capable, relied heavily on loyal managers and the indispensable skills of non-family master craftsmen, leaving the technical soul of the empire outside direct bloodline control.
Barely a month had passed, yet the Synkar business empire was already weathering coordinated attacks from multiple fronts. For now, the aggression remained subtle – economic pressure, poaching attempts, regulatory challenges – rather than overt force. This fragile restraint stemmed largely from one crucial factor: the current King still held a profound respect for the memory and accomplishments of the Nexus Architect, Theron Synkar. Without the implicit shield provided by the King, few doubted that the family's enemies, emboldened by the lack of a Synkar powerhouse at the helm, would have already moved to conquer the vulnerable empire directly.
And those enemies were not always strangers.
A soft click echoed from the heavy oak door, making Rhyse jump. He wasn't expecting anyone. The staff moved like ghosts, respectful of his grief, perhaps wary of the uncertain future.
The door swung open, revealing his Uncle Marius Hawthorne, his mother's younger brother. Marius's face was arranged in lines of solemn sympathy that didn't quite reach his calculating eyes. He was flanked by his daughter, Livia, Rhyse's cousin, a girl two years his senior whose sharp features already held the predatory gleam Rhyse associated with those doing business.
In contrast to the Synkars' legacy of invention, Rhyse's maternal family, the Hawthornes, commanded influence as powerful merchant tycoons. This formidable mercantile family formed a crucial pillar within the Synkar Duchy's structure, supplying a significant portion of its skilled workforce – from capable managers directing logistics to talented artificers contributing within the Synkar workshops themselves.
"Rhyse, my boy," Marius began, his voice smooth as oiled gears. "Still brooding? Understandable, understandable. A terrible tragedy." He stepped into the study, his expensive boots silent on the thick luxury rug. Livia followed, her eyes sweeping the room, lingering on a particularly complex astrolabe humming in the corner.
"Uncle Marius. Livia," Rhyse said, his voice thinner than he'd hoped. He straightened his back, trying to project an authority he didn't feel.
"We thought we'd check on you," Marius continued, advancing further. "Such a weight for young shoulders. Your father… well, Corbin always pushed the boundaries. Brilliant, of course, like all Synkars, but perhaps… reckless." The implication hung heavy in the air – unlike me.
"My father was always careful," Rhyse countered, clutching the velvet of his tunic.
"Of course, of course," Marius waved a dismissive hand, adorned with gem-encrusted rings. "But accidents happen, Rhyse. And now, the burden of leadership falls. The industries, the assets… they require a firm hand. Guidance."
Livia stepped forward, her voice sharper than her father's. "The quarterly reports are due, Rhyse. Contracts need signing. Competitors are already probing for weakness. The Valtari Syndicate tried to poach three senior Artificers yesterday."
Rhyse felt a cold sweat prickle his brow. He obviously knew about the Valtari, rivals who dealt in cruder, more destructive magitech. "My father's seneschal, Master Valerius…"
"Valerius is loyal, yes," Marius cut in smoothly, "but he's an administrator, not a visionary. He cannot command the respect, the vision needed. Especially now." He paused, his eyes fixing on the ornate electrum case resting on the vast mahogany desk. "Stability, Rhyse. That's what the Synkar name needs. A sign of continuity."
He moved towards the desk. "The Seal of Synkar. It should be secured. Held by someone who understands its significance, its power, until you are ready."
Rhyse's breath hitched. The seal wasn't just a stamp; it was the nexus of Synkar control, keyed to the manor's primary wards, the main vaults, the formidable magic towers, and the core operational systems – magical and technological – throughout their holdings. Crucially, it also embodied the symbolic authority over the entire Synkar collective. Relinquishing it wasn't just losing a key; it was tantamount to abdication.
"No," Rhyse said, surprising himself with the firmness in his tone. "My father entrusted it to me. It will stay with me."
Marius's façade of sympathy tightened. "Rhyse, don't be childish. This isn't a toy. It's about protecting your inheritance. Protecting you." He reached for the seal case.
Panic flared cold and sharp in Rhyse's chest. His foolish trust in family ties had left him cornered, alone. He glanced around wildly – no guards within call, no emergency runes he could activate, nothing. Against him stood his uncle, a Rank 3 Brawler, and Livia, a Rank 2 Witch. Against them, Rhyse possessed nothing – no magic, no aura, no weapon beyond the impotent gazes of his ancestors' portraits.
Desperation clawed at his throat. He wished, fiercely, irrationally, for something, anything to defy them, to protect what was his. His hand spasmed, tightening instinctively on the small purse at his belt, heavy with the hundred gold Sovereigns his mother had insisted he always carry. A pittance against the Synkar vaults, utterly meaningless in the face of true power, yet it was his. His only tangible asset in this terrifying moment.
Anything… I'd give anything…
His desperate thought, fueled by fear and the faint weight of the gold in his hand, seemed to strike a resonant chord deep within him. Not mana, not aura – both pathways inert in him since birth – but something else. The latent Synkar Core, the dormant, near-mythical legacy of his family.
Suddenly, a chime, impossibly clear and crystalline, echoed not in the study, but solely within the confines of his mind. Shimmering lines of azure light bled into existence directly before his eyes, coalescing into a translucent rectangular screen that seemed invisible to Marius and Livia.
[System Initializing...]
[Host Vitals Confirmed: Rhyse Synkar]
[Legacy Connection Verified: Synkar Lineage]
[Synkar Core Compatibility: 100%]
[Host has defective Mana and Aura Veins. Maintaining primary resources.]
[Primary Resource Detected: Liquid Assets (Gold Sovereigns)]
[Core Function Unlocked: Wealth-to-Power Conversion]
[Spend Resources to Acquire Skills, Abilities, and Enhancements.]
[Threat Detected. Immediate Action Recommended.]
Rhyse stared, dumbfounded. System? Was he hallucinating from grief and stress?
Marius's hand was inches from the Seal of Synkar.
Another line of text flared on the screen.
[Urgent Prompt: Personal Safety Compromised.]
[Option Available: Basic Ward (Rank 0)]
[Cost: 100 Gold Sovereigns]
[Activate? Y/N]
100 Gold. For a… Basic Ward? He knew the term; it was rudimentary defensive magic, something a first-rank apprentice might learn. Could this… thing… actually do that?
Marius's fingers brushed the cool exterior of the case.
Desperation overrode disbelief. Yes! Rhyse screamed it in his mind, clutching the purse so tightly his knuckles turned white. Activate!
The gold coins in his purse vanished. He felt their absence. Simultaneously, the azure screen flashed:
[100 Gold Sovereigns Expended.]
[Basic Ward (Rank 0) Acquired and Activated.]
[Duration: 10 Minutes or Until Broken.]
Rhyse felt… something. A subtle, almost imperceptible pressure against his skin, like wearing an extra layer of tightly woven, energized air. He could dimly perceive that this faint, shimmering barrier extended outwards, enveloping both himself and the Seal of Synkar resting on the desk.
Marius reached, fingers ready to grasp the Seal's case ornate handle. His hand jerked back sharply as if hitting invisible, solid glass. He frowned, shaking his fingers with a flicker of annoyance. "Odd… static discharge?" he muttered, more to himself than anyone. Dismissing it, he reached again, this time with deliberate force, intending to snatch the prize.
Thud.
His hand slammed against the unseen barrier with enough impact to make his knuckles crack audibly. It stopped dead, repelled completely. This was no mere static.
"What is this?" Marius demanded, his voice losing its smoothness, replaced by suspicion. He glared, not at the Seal, but directly at Rhyse, then swept his gaze around the room, searching for hidden runes or emitter arrays. "Some hidden defense glyph your father installed? Something you triggered?"
Livia's eyes narrowed, her witch-trained senses probing the subtle energies in the room. She could feel no discernible fluctuation of mana, no aura signature emanating from Rhyse himself – he remained magically inert, as expected. Yet, she couldn't deny the faint, almost imperceptible shimmer distorting the air around her cousin and around the Seal. It hummed with a strange, unfamiliar resonance, unlike any standard warding spell she knew. "You did something," she stated, her voice low and certain, her gaze locked onto Rhyse with unnerving intensity.
Rhyse's heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic rhythm against the sudden, impossible reality. It worked. That azure screen, the vanished gold, the invisible barrier – it was real. A dizzying wave of adrenaline washed over him, momentarily drowning the fear in profound confusion and a flicker of bewildered triumph. He straightened his shoulders, meeting his uncle's furious glare head-on.
"I told you," Rhyse said, amazed at the steadiness in his own voice – a borrowed confidence, perhaps, granted by the System's invisible shield. "It stays here." He took a small, deliberate breath, locking eyes with Marius. He had no idea what else this 'System' could do, if anything beyond this ward, but they didn't need to know that. He added, letting a hint of calculated coldness creep into his tone, "Uncle, do not force my hand."
Marius hesitated. The old manor pulsed with dormant Synkar legacies; who knew what defenses the boy might have access to?
Marius stared, his gaze flicking from Rhyse's unexpectedly firm expression to the untouchable Seal case, then back again. The mask of easy confidence had vanished, replaced by a calculating wariness, the look of a predator encountering unexpected, possibly dangerous, prey. He shot a quick, questioning glance at Livia, whose narrowed eyes mirrored his uncertainty. They clearly didn't understand the nature of the barrier or how Rhyse had manifested it .
"Very well, Rhyse," Marius said slowly, taking a step back. "Perhaps you need more time. But don't mistake our concern for weakness. The Synkar legacy will be protected." The threat was clear. He turned sharply, Livia following, casting one last suspicious look at Rhyse before the heavy door clicked shut, leaving Rhyse alone once more.
The silence returned, but it felt different now. Charged. Rhyse sank weakly into his father's enormous chair, the leather sighing under his slight weight. The azure screen still hovered before him, casting a faint glow on his pale face.
[Basic Ward Active. Remaining Duration: 8 Minutes 42 Seconds.][System Standing By. Explore System Functionalities? Y/N]
He had survived the first test. All it had cost him was one hundred gold Sovereigns. His gaze swept across the study again, lingering on the priceless artifacts, the dormant machinery, the symbols of Synkar power and unimaginable wealth. An empire's worth of resources lay dormant, waiting. And now, he possessed a System – a latent power tied to his very bloodline, it seemed – that could potentially transmute that fortune into power.
The bone-deep fear hadn't vanished, not entirely. It mingled still with the raw grief and the crushing weight of uncertainty. But now, with those chilling emotions, was a fragile, fiercely dangerous spark of something else. A possibility.
Explore System Functionalities?
Yes, Rhyse thought, a grim determination hardening his features. Absolutely yes.