Chapter 27 – Aric
Aric sat by the stream that cut through the forest, his knees drawn up as he stared at his reflection in the water. The vision of the god in the village still haunted him. His chest felt tight, as though the memory alone pressed him into the dirt.
But what burned more than fear was the realization that his father had been right all along. The gods weren't almighty—they were dependent. They drew power not just from faith but from the very lifeblood of mortals and the world itself.
He dipped his hands into the cold stream, scooping water into his mouth. For a moment, the chill grounded him. But as he drew mana into his palm—just a small experiment, the same way he had practiced dozens of times before—something went wrong.
His body lurched.
The familiar flow of mana felt jagged, fragmented. Instead of moving smoothly through his veins, it pulled violently, like a rope being yanked from his grasp. His vision blurred, his muscles stiffened. The stream's surface rippled unnaturally, shimmering with faint geometric patterns—symbols he did not recognize.
The system…
It was watching him.
Panic surged in his chest. He tried to release the mana, to let it flow back into the stream, but the pull only intensified. His breath hitched as invisible claws dug into his chest, dragging energy out of him.
His knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the mossy bank. His fingers clawed at the dirt as he gasped, his body trembling violently. It felt as though his life itself was unraveling, stripped away thread by thread.
"Aric!"
The shout cut through his haze. His father was there—Daren, eyes sharp, cloak whipping in the wind. He knelt by Aric and slammed a palm against his chest. Aric felt a surge of stability, as if his father's mana shielded him from the unseen grip.
The suffocating pull lessened, though it didn't vanish completely. Daren's face was grim, sweat beading his forehead.
"You drew too much," Daren said, his voice low but urgent. "The system noticed."
Aric coughed violently, clutching his stomach as the last threads of foreign pressure released him. His entire body ached. His limbs felt like lead, and yet his mind burned with clarity.
"I… I wasn't even trying anything new," Aric rasped. "Just a small pull. Like before. Why—why did it…"
"Because you've grown," Daren cut him off. His tone carried no softness. "Every step forward is a risk. The system tolerates you only so long as you remain insignificant. Once you stand out—"
"—it hunts you." Aric finished, bitterness in his tone.
Daren's eyes softened, just for a moment. He placed a hand on Aric's shoulder. "Exactly. This is the first taste of its drain. It doesn't kill you immediately. It tests you. Weakens you. Watches how you react. And if you push further…"
Aric swallowed hard. He already knew the answer.
"It erases you," he whispered.
His father nodded.
For a while, neither spoke. The stream bubbled quietly, as if mocking Aric's weakness. His body still trembled from the attack, and yet beneath the exhaustion, a flame kindled.
If the system was willing to strip him bare for a small attempt at growth, then how could anyone ever rise? How had the gods themselves broken free? Did they manipulate it… or were they simply tolerated because their servitude benefited the entity behind it?
Aric clenched his fist, dirt crumbling between his fingers. "I won't let it control me."
Daren studied him, the faintest hint of pride flickering in his eyes. But he said nothing, simply rising and offering his son a hand.
Aric took it and pulled himself to his feet. His body was weak, but his resolve had never been stronger.
This was no longer training. It was survival.