he sky wasn’t cloudy. It was just heavy. Like something was watching. Like something old was about to wake.
Caelan sat alone, right outside the house. On a broken stone. Legs crossed. Fingers deep in the dirt. Quiet. Still. But not calm.
Behind him—his father. Hammer in hand. Shirt soaked. Hands cracked, bleeding. Dirt under the nails. Smelled like metal and fire.
He wasn’t rich. He wasn’t a hero. He wasn’t feared.
But he never bent. Never begged.
The hammer hit the ground. He sat down next to Caelan. Didn’t say a word. Just silence. Thick. Real. Not awkward. Heavy like unsaid truths.
Then finally—
“This world doesn’t give people like us a chance.
We build everything. But we own nothing.
We carry the weight. They take the credit.”
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
He stared at the horizon. Not at anything real. At something lost.
“But you… you’re different.
You don’t cry. You don’t complain.
You listen. Not to me. Not to people.
To something bigger. I don’t know what it is. But it’s not weakness.”
Something snapped inside Caelan. Not pain. Not sadness. Something sharper.
Resolve.
Even his father didn’t break. And they still called him worthless.
Caelan wasn’t gonna let that repeat.
That night—no sleep. Everyone else was out cold.
Mother curled beside Edeleide.
Father knocked out from work.
Caelan walked into the woods.
No fire. No spell. No god.
Just him. Alone. Barefoot. Cold ground. Bleeding moon above.
He stood there, breathing like a beast.
His body small. But his soul? Burning. Loud. Screaming.
He whispered.
“I’m the lowest.
The trash.
The filth even dirt spits on.”
“And tonight—I become Aura.”
Fists clenched. Nails pierced skin.
He pulled every dream. Every bit of stolen memory. Every cursed moment from that warrior past—
—and bent the world to his will.
Veins lit up.
Muscles twisted.
Pain beyond pain.
Then—
BOOM.
Aura exploded out. A shockwave.
Ground cracked.
Birds scattered, crying into the night.
But his house? Untouched.
His family? Safe.
Next morning. He came back.
Bruised. Shaking. Eyes bloodshot.
Father saw him. Stared.
“You fight something?”
Caelan shook his head.
“No. I just woke up.”