Periun city, Kettlia Region
Ashtarium Nation
North American Continent
October 3rd ,2019
Nico was bone-tired, his thoughts weighted with fatigue as he slipped through the back streets of Periun. He'd spent the last few hours retracing Jack's chaotic wake—visiting each warehouse, each battered den where the city's gangs now nursed broken bones and fractured memories. Every room reeked of violence and confusion, the scent of adrenaline still clinging to the air. Jack had been thorough—almost ruthless in his efficiency.
Cleaning up after the boy was becoming a full-time job.
Nico did what he always did: he slipped through the cracks, careful and unseen, a shadow among shadows. One by one, he found the gangsters Jack had left unconscious, weaving memory spells over each one—a subtle shifting of recollection, replacing the phantom of Jack's masked face with a haze, a convenient hallucination, a night of violence explained by rival gangs or a bad batch of product. By the time Nico was finished, no one could remember the truth of what had happened. Only bruises and a gnawing sense of unease remained.
The vampires weren't hunting him tonight—at least, not openly. But Nico knew it was only a matter of time. The city's predators didn't forgive or forget, and a Manaborn like Jack would never stay invisible for long.
He understood what drove Jack, at least in part. The boy was newly Awakened, flush with raw, dangerous power. Unshaped, untested, with a desperate edge born of history and need. To take on the gangs of Periun was as much a trial as a necessity—a brutal way to push the limits of his Ability Factor, to learn how far he could bend before breaking. Nico couldn't blame him. If anything, he was impressed by how quickly Jack was adapting. The boy's progress was both startling and troubling.
Now, Nico sat in Jacien's cramped office, slouched in a battered chair, the city's grit and tension still clinging to him. Jacien, ever the careful observer, listened from behind his paper-strewn desk, his eyes keen and unblinking as Nico recounted the night's grim work—the broken gangs, the carefully sown confusion, the erased memories.
Jacien's lips curled in a thin, almost approving smile. "It seems the boy is growing nicely."
Nico exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "He's already developed a nascent Mana core. That's…not normal. Usually, a Mana core forms before someone awakens their Ability Factor, and even then it takes time—months, sometimes years, to stabilize." He shook his head, the memory of Jack's aura still vivid in his mind. "But Jack? He manifested one at the very moment his soul core awakened. That kind of progression… I've only seen it in prodigies—and even they weren't this fast."
Jacien's eyes flickered with something between concern and curiosity. "The world's changing, Nico. The old rules are breaking down. Maybe this is how he survives in a world like ours."
Nico looked away, the city's night pressing against the office window. He couldn't help but wonder if Jacien was right—or if they were simply standing at the edge of a storm none of them could control.
"I think it's time I introduce myself to him," Nico said at last, his voice low, burdened with decision. "Tell him the truth about our world. He's already knee-deep in things no ordinary kid should touch. It's better to arm him with knowledge, rather than leave him thrashing around in the dark."
Jacien leaned back in his creaking chair, considering. "If you'd rather not risk it, I could handle the talk. The boy already trusts me, at least a little. I wouldn't mind being the one to lay out the truth."
Nico shook his head, the lines of fatigue deepening around his eyes. "No. This is something I need to do myself." He let out a long breath, feeling the weight of his own choices settling on his shoulders. "I owe him that much. If I keep hiding in the shadows, what does that make me? Another ghost, another manipulator?"
He glanced away, eyes tracing the peeling paint on Jacien's office wall. Things had gotten tangled far faster than he'd anticipated. He'd taken this assignment with the Warden Association for practical reasons—to build his record, maybe earn that elusive Senior Officer badge.
Instead, he'd bent nearly every regulation in the book, working outside official channels, covering up Jack's exploits, erasing memories, and interfering in ways that could get him sanctioned—or worse. If the higher-ups ever found out, promotion would be the least of his worries. He'd be lucky to avoid a lifetime in a cold cell, his career and reputation dust.
But as he sat there, the city's low rumble vibrating through the building's wall, Nico felt a strange clarity. Maybe, for once, the right thing wasn't the safe thing. Maybe Jack Ryan deserved someone to stand beside him, not just watch from afar.
He looked back at Jacien, resolve hardening in his gaze. "It's time he knew who's pulling the strings in Periun. And it's time I stopped running from my own choices."
Jacien's expression softened, a flicker of approval in his eyes. "Then I hope he's ready. Once you open that door, there's no going back."
Nico nodded, feeling the future shifting, uncertain, but necessary. "Neither for him. Nor for me."
****
"What year was the War of Unification?" Layla called out, her tone brisk as she surveyed the notecards in her lap.
Eli leaned back in his chair, thoughtful for a split second before answering, "The War of Unification lasted from 1281 to 1307."
"Correct," Layla confirmed, flashing him a quick, approving smile.
Amber, lounging across the table with her notes splayed in chaotic order, tossed out the next question. "Who was the general who led the war on behalf of the Unifier?"
"Oh, I know this one!" Jack said, his voice warming with a rare, easy confidence. He sat close beside Carrie, their knees brushing beneath the table, hands entwined in a silent, mutual secret. "It was George Lionheart—the first of his name."
"Right you are," Amber said, grinning. She shot a pointed look at Carrie, who, for all her academic reputation, hadn't answered a single question. Her eyes were fixed only on Jack, as if he were the sole point of light in the crowded library. Carrie's adoration was unmissable, a silent confession written in every glance.
Sarah piped up next, flipping through her flashcards. "Alright, history buffs—what was the Kandria Accord? When and where was it established?"
Amber was quick on the draw, the facts rolling off her tongue. "The Kandria Accord was a formal peace treaty between our country, Ashtarium, and our neighbor, Kandria. It also established new trade routes and economic alliances. Signed in 1609, in the Hudsonia region."
"Perfect," Sarah said, ticking the question off her list.
Mark groaned, slumping over his textbook as if it weighed a hundred pounds. "Ugh, I am so done with history. My brain's full. Someone quiz me on something fun—like lunch options."
Laughter rippled around the table, the group's tension breaking and dissolving. For a moment, the weight of exams faded, replaced by the warmth of shared camaraderie.
Then, with a sly smirk, Amber leaned forward. "So, I hear you two finally kissed, huh?" She waggled her eyebrows at Jack and Carrie, drawing all eyes to the pair.
Carrie's cheeks flamed pink, but her defiance held as she shot back, "Not telling." Still, the shy pride in her smile betrayed the truth.
Zoey chimed in, her voice gentle but teasing. "Honestly, I'm just relieved. Carrie's been hopeless, pining after Jack from a distance for years."
"Really?" Jack blinked in genuine surprise, recalling Carrie's shy confession that she'd liked him since middle school. He looked at her now, his heart catching at how she glanced away, her blush deepening. For the first time, he saw not just the confident, top-of-the-class Carrie, but the vulnerable girl who'd cared for him in secret.
Jack grinned—wide, unguarded, and impossibly fond. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze under the table, savoring this new, sweet honesty between them. Carrie only ducked her head further, her smile hidden behind a spill of golden hair, but Jack thought she'd never looked more beautiful.
The group's chatter drifted into lighter topics, the evening sunlight angling through library windows, painting them all in gold—a moment of peace before the storm, a memory Jack would cherish long after exams and history dates had faded.
After the long stretch of studying, the group slowly began to drift apart, each pulled back into the tides of their own lives. Jack lingered beside Carrie as long as he could, but eventually he offered her a gentle, apologetic smile, squeezing her hand as he gave his reason for leaving early. "I have to take care of my mom tonight," he'd said, the words only half a lie. The truth was more complicated, threaded through with secrets and silent promises—he needed time to grow stronger, to push his mysterious ability to the edge, all for the faint hope of one day healing his mother's shattered body.
He wished he could tell Carrie everything, let her into that hidden part of his world. Yet a strange reluctance held him back. It wasn't about trust. If anything, Jack trusted Carrie more than anyone. But some stubborn piece of him wanted to preserve the illusion for just a little longer—that, in her eyes, he was simply Jack, the boy she liked, not a living anomaly twisted up in shadow wars and supernatural power. With a parting kiss and a whispered goodbye, Jack left Carrie among her friends, waved a quick farewell to the rest, and made his way out through the late afternoon crowd spilling from the school gates.
The street was thick with students laughing, grumbling, making their way home beneath the fading sun. Jack cut through them, his mind already shifting into that restless, focused state he reserved for his double life. He almost didn't notice the figure leaning against the old iron gate, half-shadowed by the stone wall. Something about the stranger set him instantly on edge.
The boy's attire was stark—a tailored black coat, too sharp for a student, with crisp lines hinting at some military cut. Short, midnight hair caught what little light remained, but it was the eyes that unsettled Jack most: deep, blood-crimson, cold and knowing, half-veiled behind a crow-shaped mask obscuring his lower face. The stranger straightened, stepping away from the gate, his presence a ripple in the air—a subtle shift that set Jack's nerves alight.
Jack's first, instinctive thought was that one of the city's gangs had tracked him down. He readied himself to bolt or fight, but then a peculiar sensation washed over him—a silent warning, an otherness in the air. An aura, deep and dense, radiated from the stranger, brushing the edges of Jack's senses with a force that felt ancient, controlled, and impossibly strong.
Oddly, no one else seemed to notice. Students jostled past, oblivious. A girl hurried by, bumping Jack's shoulder hard enough to stagger him. He turned, about to apologize, but she didn't even glance his way.
"Huh, what gives?" she muttered, marching on, her gaze sliding right over both boys as if they were ghosts.
"Don't bother," the stranger said, his voice calm, laced with a trace of amusement. "They can't see us. I've cast a tier two Light spell. Makes us invisible to anyone not attuned to higher energies."
Jack stared, confusion turning to wary curiosity. "What?"
Before he could say more, the Codex's voice sounded crisply in his mind, cold and mechanical: Ascendant Ryan should be aware. Immediate danger before them. A Master Realm Ascendant has come before Ascendant Ryan.
Jack stiffened, heart thudding. Master realm? He recalled the Codex referring to him as Novice before—so there were levels to this, and the gap between them was now alarmingly clear.
"I like that look on you," the stranger said, studying Jack with crimson eyes that missed nothing. "Wary. You recognize the difference between us immediately. Good instincts."
"You mean the fact that you're stronger than me?" Jack said, tension threading his words.
"Yes," the stranger replied, almost approving. "Your internal senses are sharp for a beginner. Most would miss it entirely."
Jack squared his shoulders. "So… you're like me, then?"
A wry smile flickered behind the mask. "Hmm. Not exactly. But close enough. Jack Ryan, right? There's a lot you don't know yet about this city, about our world—and I'm here to give you answers."
The stranger slid back his coat sleeve, revealing a slim, silver band at his wrist—far more intricate than any school accessory. From it, he summoned a badge, producing it with a practiced flick. Jack stared as the badge caught the last light of day, its strange symbol glinting: a glossy black feather resting atop a stylized key, its bow shaped into a circular lock. Encircling the emblem was a ring of twelve tiny stars, the entire design set against a midnight-blue field that seemed to swirl with faint, hidden depths.
Jack couldn't look away. The badge radiated authority—real, dangerous, and utterly otherworldly. In that moment, he understood that whatever came next, his life was about to change again.
The stranger's gaze was steady, patient. "My name's Nico. I'm here on behalf of the Warden Association. And whether you like it or not, Jack, you've stepped onto the real board now."
****
They ended up, almost by fate, in the very tea shop where Carrie had taken Jack for their impromptu date only days before. It was Nico's idea, surprisingly casual—he'd suggested they talk over a drink, claiming that somewhere public would be "better for both of us, for now." Jack agreed, reasoning that open spaces and bustling chatter were preferable to secret meetings in shadowed alleyways.
The shop's warm lights and clinking glasses created a sanctuary against the dusk outside. They settled into a corner booth, each with a boba tea in hand, the bright colors of their drinks oddly out of place with the tension simmering between them. Jack fiddled with his straw, glancing at the strange boy across from him, half-expecting him to keep his mask on even in the comfort of the café. But after a moment, Nico set the crow mask on the table—face revealed at last.
The effect was arresting. Underneath the mask, Nico's features were delicate yet unnaturally perfect, framed by midnight hair, his skin pale and almost luminous under the golden lights. His eyes, now unobstructed, were both inviting and unsettling—a shade of crimson rarely seen in nature, like rubies caught in sunlight. There was a calm, angelic symmetry to his face, so beautiful that Jack couldn't help but stare, momentarily struck speechless.
Jack's first reaction was almost comical: a small, irrational pang of envy—how could someone look so otherworldly and still act so nonchalant? But the feeling passed quickly, replaced by a reluctant amusement as he remembered the girl who had chosen him despite his ordinary looks. He took a sip of his drink, letting the cold sweetness settle his nerves.
Nico's lips curved in a small, knowing smile. "Impressive. Not many can acknowledge that kind of feeling and let it go so quickly."
Jack blinked, caught off guard. "Wait—can you read my mind?"
Nico shook his head, swirling his tea. "Not exactly. Mind reading—real telepathy—requires physical contact. But from here, I can sense emotion, intent, surface thoughts. Call it intuition, or a side effect of my cultivation."
Jack frowned, intrigued and wary. "Cultivation?"
"I'm a Mage," Nico said simply. "Which means I practice Magic cultivation. Mana, spells, all of it. And before you ask—yes, it's real. The world you think you know is layered over another, far older reality. Magic exists. The supernatural is not just myth and rumor—it's woven into the foundation of our universe. What you've heard in stories, legends, all of it holds a seed of truth."
Jack leaned back, processing. The Codex had whispered about magic, Ascendants, so many things—he'd accepted them as reality out of necessity, but hearing it laid out in daylight, across a table crowded with teens and old couples, gave it a new gravity.
"I guess I'm not as surprised as I should be," Jack admitted. "It always felt like there was something more going on beneath the surface. My ability… the things I've seen these last weeks."
Nico studied him, searching for a hint of fear or denial. Finding none, he nodded. "You've adapted quickly. That's good. You'll need that kind of open mind." He leaned in, voice lowering just enough to vanish beneath the café's soft soundtrack. "I know about your ability, Jack. I've been keeping an eye on you since the moment you awakened. It's my job, in a way. I'm a Warden, part of the Association—an organization sworn to keep the truths of the Shadow World hidden from mundane society."
"Warden Association?" Jack echoed, eyebrows rising.
Nico produced a small badge from his dimensional band, turning it over in his slender fingers. "We are mediators, arbiters, protectors… and, when necessary, enforcers of the Accord."
"The Accord?" Jack pressed.
Nico's gaze sharpened, crimson eyes suddenly old beyond measure. "The pact that keeps our worlds from colliding. It's an agreement—between the Manaborn races and the rest of humanity. Its purpose is to keep the existence of the Manaborn society a secret, to protect both sides from chaos and exploitation."
Jack nodded slowly, absorbing every word. "And… Manaborn? That's…"
"Anyone—human or otherwise—born with the innate ability to use Mana," Nico explained. "Most of the world's races are Manaborn by nature. Humans, though, are usually not. For them, learning to harness Mana is possible, but rare. Over centuries, though, enough humans succeeded that the trait became genetic—passed down through bloodlines. That's where people like you come from."
Jack stared into his tea, the pieces clicking into place with a shiver of both awe and dread. "So, people like me—we're not supposed to exist?"
"On the contrary," Nico said, his tone suddenly gentle. "You're exactly what's always existed—in the cracks and shadows, behind every legend. But you're not supposed to be public. The Warden Association makes sure the boundary holds. For your safety, and for everyone else's."
He paused, searching Jack's face for understanding. "And now, Jack, you need to decide: do you want to keep living in ignorance, or do you want to see the world as it truly is?"
Jack looked up, determination sparking in his eyes. "Show me. I'm ready."
Nico's lips curved in a genuine smile, a spark of approval flickering in those strange, crimson eyes. "Good. First things first, Jack: you need to stop targeting the gangs in this city."
Jack almost choked on his tea, caught between indignation and disbelief. "What? What are you talking about—" He was cut off as Nico calmly lifted a finger, commanding silence.
"Exposure of Mana to the public is a class one offense under the laws of the Accord," Nico said, voice quiet but carrying an undeniable weight. "Using your ability openly—even if it's just to rough up a few thugs—breaks the law. Do you have any idea how many regulations I've had to violate just to clean up your messes?"
Jack blinked, heart pounding. "Cleaning up?"
Nico nodded, swirling his straw as if talking about something as mundane as spilled milk. "Yes. I've had to alter their memories with advanced spells, wipe every trace of you from their minds. Otherwise, you'd have made the evening news by now—or worse, you'd be flagged by the Warden Association."
Jack swallowed, suddenly aware of the razor-thin line he'd been walking. "And if the Wardens did find out about me?"
"Normally?" Nico's tone was deceptively casual, but Jack caught the shadows beneath it. "They'd bring you in, try to recruit you or, if you're lucky, keep you under surveillance until they're sure you're not a threat. But you…" He hesitated, as if weighing the risk of telling more. Nico's eyes briefly softened. "Let's just say your situation is…unique. There are details I can't share yet. Not here, not now. What matters is that you stop picking fights in the open. You have no idea what kinds of eyes are watching the criminal underworld. For your sake—and your mother's—don't draw attention."
A beat passed as Jack digested that. "So… Manaborns are involved in the city's gangs too?"
Nico nodded, voice dropping to a murmur. "They always have been. The Accord might have ended open conflict, but it didn't erase old power structures. Ancient families—houses that have ruled from the shadows for centuries—they found new ways to keep control. The criminal underworld is just another tool. The gangs you fought might not even be fully human."
Jack's fists tightened around his cup. "But I have to. I need to get stronger—to heal my mom, to protect the people I care about. I need to fight."
Nico studied him for a long moment, as if weighing Jack's soul with his eyes. "You're not wrong. Growth, for someone like you, often comes through conflict. But fighting in the streets isn't the only path. You're different from the standard Mage or Mana artist—your cultivation path is tied directly to your Ability Factor. Still, even with your unique talent, there's more to growth than just brawling."
Jack hesitated, the frustration in his chest warring with hope. "Then… what do you suggest?"
Nico leaned forward, suddenly all business. "If you truly want to grow—if you're serious about mastering your power—then let me help you. I can teach you to control Mana, to use it not just as a blunt tool, but as an extension of yourself. Right now, your Ability Factor is strong, but your Mana manipulation is rough. If you learn to harmonize the two, your potential will skyrocket. Are you willing?"
Jack met Nico's gaze, searching for any trace of deception—and found none. His resolve crystallized. "Alright. Teach me, then. Teach me how to be a Manaborn."
Nico's smile grew, genuine and fierce. "That's the spirit. We start tonight."