As I walked back into our little café, the familiar chime of the bell above the door jingled softly.
The air was thick with the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee, warm pastries, and a faint hint of vanilla that Mom always added to the morning batches. The space wasn't big — maybe a dozen small wooden tables scattered around, each with a tiny vase holding a single flower, usually whatever Alice had picked from the garden out back.
The walls were painted a soft cream color, worn in places from years of love and use. Handwritten chalkboards hung behind the counter, listing the day's specials in Mom's neat cursive. A low hum of conversation and the occasional clink of cups filled the air — cozy, familiar, safe.
There were only a couple of customers that afternoon — an elderly couple sipping cappuccinos by the window, and a young man hunched over his laptop in the corner.
I slipped behind the counter where Mom and Dad were bustling about. Mom was steaming milk with practiced ease, while Dad wiped down mugs and checked the stock beneath the bar.
"There's our big-shot Mage," Dad said with a grin, eyes twinkling. "Back from setting the garden on fire?"
"Hey, no fires," I smirked. "Though I did pass out twice. Don't tell Mom."
Mom gave me a playful glare over her shoulder. "If you pass out again, at least do it on the couch. The grass doesn't exactly look comfy."
"I'll keep that in mind." I grinned, grabbing a rag and helping Dad with the mugs.
The rest of the afternoon passed in a warm blur. I helped clear tables, took a few orders, and chatted with Mom while Alice pestered me for more stories about Mages.
"So, what does the Fireball feel like?" she asked, eyes wide as she balanced precariously on a bar stool.
"Hmm," I mused, wiping a glass. "It's like… holding warm sunlight in your hand, and then throwing it wherever you want."
"COOOOL." Alice practically vibrated with excitement. "When can I learn magic?!"
"Not for a few more years, squirt," Dad chuckled. "Let your brother figure it out first. We don't need both of you setting the café on fire."
The laughter that followed echoed through the small space, blending with the soft clinks of cutlery and the low hum of conversation.
For the first time since awakening, I truly felt it — life hadn't changed so much yet. But it would.
…
That night, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Sleep refused to come.
My mind replayed the events of the day over and over — the Awakening, my Talent, the Fireballs, the system messages. But most of all, my plans for tomorrow.
I had it all mapped out. First thing in the morning, I'd head to the Awakened Training Hall and buy a pass. Then I'd spend the entire day grinding Fireballs.
I'd done the math earlier: with a full Mana pool taking about an hour to refill, I could probably manage around ten full exhaustion cycles in a day if I paced myself carefully.
Ten cycles meant +10 Mana and +10 Spell Power in a single day. Just thinking about it sent a thrill through me.
Compared to normal Mages, who would take months — years, even — to see those kinds of gains, I could skyrocket ahead. And they could only see those stat gains, when a spell of theirs ranked up. Whereas my numbers would go up daily.
Tomorrow, I thought, grinning. Tomorrow everything begins for real.
Eventually, excitement gave way to exhaustion, and I drifted off to sleep.
…
I woke early the next morning, sunlight barely peeking through the faded curtains. A glance at my clock — 6:00 AM.
For once, I wasn't groggy or sluggish. I felt wide awake, energy humming through my veins.
Throwing on a simple T-shirt and jeans, I padded downstairs. The café smelled heavenly already — rich coffee and cinnamon wafting through the air.
Mom was bustling about behind the counter, humming softly as she prepared the first batch of pastries. Dad sat at one of the corner tables, sipping a mug of steaming black coffee and reading the morning news on his tablet.
Alice was curled up in her usual chair by the window, doodling in her notebook with intense focus.
"Morning, sleepyhead," Mom greeted, smiling when she saw me. "You're up early."
"Couldn't sleep," I admitted, grabbing a plate and helping myself to some toast and scrambled eggs. "Too excited."
Dad looked up from his tablet, raising an eyebrow. "About today?"
"Yeah," I nodded, taking a bite of toast. "I'm heading to the Training Hall. Going to get a pass and… well, you know. Fire Fireballs all day."
Alice looked up, grinning. "Can you bring me back a Mana Crystal? Pleeease?"
I laughed. "We'll see, squirt. No promises."
Mom set a mug of coffee in front of me and ruffled my hair. "Just be careful. And take breaks, alright? No passing out this time."
"I promise." I lied to not make mom worry.
Dad stood up, stretching. "Hold on, son. Before you go…"
He walked over to the counter, rummaging beneath it for a moment. Then he returned, holding a small envelope.
"This," he said, placing it gently in front of me, "is for you."
I blinked. "What is it?"
Dad smiled softly. "Five thousand dollars. We've been saving it for a long time. In case either you or your sister ever Awakened. Training isn't cheap, and we know you haven't had time to save much yourself — with school and helping us here."
I stared at the envelope, throat tightening.
"Dad… Mom… I can't—"
Mom reached over, squeezing my hand. "You can. And you will. We're proud of you, Ethan. Go chase this dream of yours. We'll be cheering you on."
I swallowed hard, blinking back a sudden sting in my eyes.
"Thank you," I whispered. "I won't waste it. I will pay you back tenfold!"
Dad clapped my shoulder. "We know. Now go show them what a Vale can do."
…
After finishing breakfast and packing a simple backpack with a snack, water bottle and towel, I stepped out into the crisp morning air.
The city was just beginning to wake up — shops opening their shutters, delivery trucks rumbling past, and pedestrians bundled in light jackets as they hurried to start their day.
The Awakened Training Hall was about a thirty-minute walk from our café. I took my time, enjoying the cool breeze and letting my thoughts wander.
The money Dad had given me weighed heavily in my pocket — not physically, but emotionally. I'll make it worth it, I promised silently.
As I approached the Training Hall, the atmosphere shifted.
Large banners hung above the wide entrance, marked with the Hall's emblem — a stylized flame and sword crossed over a shield. Awakened of all ages came and went, some chatting animatedly, others focused and serious.
I took a deep breath and walked inside.
The reception area was modern and clean, with sleek counters and a large digital board listing current promotions and available services. Behind the counter, a young man with sharp features and short-cropped hair greeted me with a polite nod.
"First time?" he asked, eyeing my Awakened ID as I handed it over.
"Yeah. I'm here to get a training pass," I replied.
"Of course. We offer several options," he said, pulling up a holographic menu.
Training Hall Access — Pricing:
1-Day Pass: $300
1-Week Pass: $1,500
1-Month Membership: $5,000
"The one-day pass is most popular for new Awakened," he added helpfully. "You can upgrade to a longer membership anytime."
I considered it for a moment. No point spending everything at once. But I want to at least spend a week training before going into a dungeon.
"I'll take the one-week pass."
He processed the payment quickly and handed me a sleek black wristband. "Wear this inside. It tracks your time and prevents unauthorized spell use beyond training zones. Welcome to the Hall."
I nodded my thanks and made my way through the double doors leading into the main training area.
…
The space was massive.
Rows of reinforced training dummies lined the floor, spaced out in neat grids. Some were simple wooden constructs, others more advanced with mana-reactive surfaces that glowed upon impact.
All around me, Awakened were practicing — spells crackling through the air, bursts of light and flame erupting as Fireballs, Ice Spears, and Lightning Bolts struck their targets.
The hum of focused training filled the hall, accompanied by occasional cheers or frustrated groans.
This is perfect, I thought, already itching to get started.
But as I scanned the room for an open spot, something caught my eye.
Near the far end of the hall, a lone figure stood before one of the sturdier dummies — a girl around my age, with long dark hair tied in a loose ponytail. She wore light training gear and gripped a wooden sword in both hands.
As I watched, she took a deep breath and whispered something.
Her sword flared to life — glowing faintly with a shimmering aura. With a sharp exhale, she struck the dummy with precision.
A bright flash — then silence.
The glow faded… and so did her balance.
The girl swayed on her feet, then crumpled to the floor.
I blinked, heart skipping. Without hesitation, I hurried across the hall toward her.
"Hey — are you okay?"