"One more shot, barkeep!"
The bar door slammed open with a gust of laughter, boots scraping the dusty floor as the village men poured in after a long day's grind. The air thickened — booze, sweat, and slurred tales mixing with the stale woodsmoke clinging to every wall.
In a dim corner of the bar, away from the noise, a young man sat alone with a mug of wine.
Silias Raverant.
Blue-streaked black hair. Black eyes tinged with ice-blue rings. That face — sharp enough to make mirrors nervous, tired enough to make them weep.
He sat upright on a shoddy wooden chair — the kind that looked like it was built by a drunk with a grudge against nails. His eyes stayed glued to the wine's surface, still as glass until the door creaked again, sending ripples across it. His reflection danced in those waves — solemn, distant, too pretty for someone who didn't care anymore.
He sighed.
Took a sip. Bittersweet. Burned good.
The messenger should arrive tomorrow. Or the day after.
Another sip.
Hope they accept my enlistment request this time. I've turned them down enough times already…
Another sigh — the kind that weighed more than it should. Footsteps approached. Familiar weight. He didn't need to look.
"Chief," Silias said, rising to greet the middle-aged man.
The man smiled and pulled him into a warm, crushing hug. "So it's true. The Raverant boy's finally heading for war, huh?"
"Seems like it," Silias replied, scratching the back of his head.
The chief dropped beside him, waving the bartender over. "Still can't believe it. Thought you'd just spend your life breaking logs and hearts."
Silias didn't answer at first. His fingers traced the rim of his mug, silent.
It wasn't the first time he'd been asked to join.
The army had invited him years ago. Despite everything. Despite the fact that he was a Normie — a pure human who couldn't even touch Senar.
Senar. The breath of the world.The invisible current that fed the warriors, assassins, mages, summoners — all those who stood against the Darkbeasts.
Without Senar, you weren't even part of the board. You were the ground people fought on.
But Silias? He had none of it.No core. No affinity. No Brand. No Rune.Just blood, instinct, and a name that once meant war.
The Raverants — a battle-born clan feared more than they were respected.Not the highest ranked, not the most decorated. But they never lost a one-on-one.Every child was born a fighter. Every child was an Initiate at worst.
Except him.The only Raverant born powerless. And the last one still breathing.
Still, when the nearby Shelter caught wind that a Raverant had survived the clan's destruction, they begged him to enlist.
Three times.
Each time, he said no.
"The war ain't mine to fight," he had said.
But that was before he saw her.
The chief's grin grew sly. "So what changed, eh? Glory? Vengeance? Or…"
He leaned in, smirking.
"Is it 'cause my pochie bear got whisked away as one of the Five Chosen?"
Silias blinked, caught off guard.
"After all, you used to play with her when you kids were brats. And now she's gonna leave you in the dust, huh? Or maybe you finally noticed she grew up."
"Kinda…" Silias said, scratching harder — a practiced deflection.
He couldn't say it out loud. Not here. That the first time he saw Mary in years — really saw her — she lit something up inside him that hadn't moved in forever.
Back then, she was the loudmouth girl who challenged him to spar and got folded every time.Now?
She came back from a Shelter Academy taller, colder, and beautiful in a way that could start wars if you looked too long.
He hadn't planned to show up to the testing, but fate's a comedian.
He wandered into the square just as the runes lit up around her. Just in time to see the personnel call her name. Just in time to hear the whispers: "The fifth. The last. The final piece of the prophecy."
Chosen to help end a thousand-year war.
And him?
Still a Normie. Still stuck. Still no Senar. Still a pretty face holding up a dying legacy.
But something clicked that day.Something loud and stupid and young.
Something human.
If she's going to the frontlines… I can meet her there...
Another thing bubbled up in him.
A stupid primal hate.
Hate for the guy who was the root cause of her being whisked away.
The Dark Emperor.
That bastard... If it weren't for him, she would've stayed in the village... Then, I could have worked my way into her heart.
Now she was out there—seeing the world, meeting stronger, smarter, shinier people. And he'd be forgotten before the first battle horn blew.
The chief soon got pulled away, waved over by some elders toward the other side of the bar. Silias gave a small nod and returned to his seat, finishing the last of his wine in one quiet gulp.
No second round.
No shots.
Just silence.
He stood, pushing the rickety chair back with a soft scrape, dropped a few coins onto the table, and walked toward the door.
The bell above the entrance gave a weak jingle as it closed behind him, swallowed by the wind outside.
A moment passed.
Then two.
Then, the voices returned.
"Did y'all see that?""He left after one drink."
Murmurs broke out like old pipes finally bursting open.
"Ain't seen Silias drink less than ten since… hell, ever.""Man used to bathe in beer. Now he's walkin' out like a soldier."
The bar slowly quieted again, but this time it wasn't heavy — it was warm. Familiar. The kind of hush that came when people realized they were watching a man become something more.
"Maybe that Raverant blood's finally flarin' up again.""Hope so. If he makes it to the Army and climbs a bit..."
One of them leaned forward, lowering their voice as if the wind outside could still hear them.
"Then this little edge-of-nowhere village would've raised two names worth remembering."
A round of low, thoughtful hums echoed around the room.
Then someone raised a glass.
"To the Fifth Chosen…""…and the Normie who refused to stay forgotten."
The glasses clinked.
And the door creaked once more as the wind rolled through, as if the world itself paused — listening.
---
Silias walked down the dirt path, the crisp night air wrapping around him like a half-hearted hug. The stars blinked overhead, silent witnesses to his change.
His steps were light. Lighter than usual.
He wasn't sure why, but… something about that little toast in the bar left a strange warmth in his chest.
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"To the Normie who refused to stay forgotten," huh?
He scratched his head, the faintest chuckle slipping past his lips.
Yeah, I heard that.
His senses — always sharp — had picked up the bar's gossip as clearly as if he were still sitting in his seat.
Better than an Initiate's hearing, they used to say.
But it wasn't just his hearing.
His body moved cleaner, faster, struck harder. His instincts danced just ahead of time itself — like he saw things a breath before they happened.
No Senar. No training. Just raw, inexplicable talent.
It made no sense.
And yet, he was still a Normie.
Powerless.
...Right?
His smile faded just a little. He was still walking, but something in the night felt different now. Thicker. Like the air had gained a heartbeat.
Then—
[ Hey, Normie. ]
He stopped.
A whisper. But not in his ears.
In his head.
[ Stop ignoring me already. You're making this more awkward than it needs to be. ]
Silias blinked. The street was empty. The trees were still. The world was quiet.
"...What the hell?"
[ Finally. You can hear me. Good. Now shut up and listen. We've got some things to unravel. ]