Eli is a quiet yet sharp witted youth of seventeen, bearing the look of someone used to being overlooked.
With tousled ash crown hair that constantly falls into his storm gray eyes, he rarely draws attention by design, his lean frame hides the wiry strength earned through hardship, not privilege.
Scars both visible and not mark him as someone who's fought more battles in silence than most do with swords and today is another one of those battles.
As rain slicked the cracked stones of the alleyway, turning dirt into mud and shadows into monsters.
Eli lay there, curled around his ribs, spitting blood onto the wet ground.
"What's wrong, Zero? Your fancy little dreams broken already?" a boy sneered, kicking him in the gut. The others laughed, their academy cloaks soaked but their eyes full of cruel fire.
Three against one. Again.
Eli didn't answer. He never did. Not because he couldn't, but because he refused to give them the satisfaction.
One of them, Gregor son of a Tier-3 merchant lord grabbed the collar of Eli's shirt and yanked him up. "You think you can just walk around like you belong in the Academy? With no tier? No magic? You're a blemish on our ranks."
The others jeered. "Should've been left in the streets where you came from."
"Yeah. Or put in the mines. Zeroes make good tunnel rats."
Another punch, this time to the jaw. Stars burst behind Eli's eyes. He fell again, vision swimming.
He lay there, cold rain running into the fresh cuts on his face, the laughter of the privileged echoing down the alley as they walked away.
Zero.
It was all they ever called him.
Not because he had no name but because he had no Tier.
In a world where everyone awakened to a magic Tier by their twelfth birthday, Eli awakened… nothing. No aura. No mana pulse. No glyph. The priests said it was rare. The nobles said it was a curse. The children just called him a waste.
Eli sat up slowly, wincing. Blood dripped from a split lip, but the pain wasn't what broke him it was the silence from the System Stone in his chest. Blank. Lifeless.
He had tried everything. Prayers. Potions. Forbidden rituals in the dead of night.
Nothing.
Eli sat in the mud long after the others had gone. The cold rain helped numb the pain in his ribs, but it did nothing to quiet the weight in his chest. He didn't cry. He never did. Not after the first few beatings. Tears were a luxury he couldn't afford anymore.
Once the alley fell silent, Eli slowly got to his feet. He staggered a bit, gripping the brick wall for balance. His legs were shaky, and every breath reminded him of the bruises blooming across his side. He kept walking anyway.
He didn't head to his dome. There was no comfort waiting for him there, he turns to the dim room behind the weaponsmith's shop "Master Rudd" where he stays sometimes in exchange for cleaning the forge and running errands. The owner was kind enough not to ask questions, but it was no place to think.
So he ended up at his only spot that allows him the silence, an abandoned watchtower at the edge of the city.
It wasn't much. Cracked stone walls, a broken staircase, and weeds climbing through the floorboards. But it was quiet. No people. No judgment.
Just wind, rain, and space to breathe.
He climbed up to the top floor, slow and careful. The wood creaked beneath his weight, but it held. At the top, the view spread out across the outer edge of Greyharbor. The city lights were faint here. The stars were blocked by clouds, but the moon broke through just enough to cast a pale glow over the fields.
Eli sat against the wall and pulled his knees close, breathing through the pain.
His fingers went to his chest, where the faint warmth of the system should have pulsed inside him but instead. No voice, no alerts. Just... Silence.
The next morning came slowly as Eli got ready to return back to the academy as he couldn't stay out and away for long, "I need your help, Boy" Master Rudd the blacksmith shouts from outside the watchtower.
"I need you to get some iron ore for me at the other side of town in the Old Ore slum, can you do it?" he says with an uncertain look.
"Why not, you can trust me" Eli says in high spirit and storms down.
He dashes out eager to help and ready to prove his usefulness and show is gratitude for allowing him spend time at the forge every now and then.
Eli walked alone along the dusty path that wound near the outskirts of town, where the cobbled streets gave way to cracked dirt and dry grass. The evening sun dipped low, casting long shadows over the jagged trees lining the forest edge. The air smelled of iron and woodsmoke, familiar scents near the Ore slum where the poorest labored and the city's eyes never bothered to look.
He kept his head low, hands in his coat pockets, stepping over a broken fence post as a wagon creaked in the distance. This part of town was always quiet too quiet. Most people didn't come here unless they had to.
He did.
Sometimes to think. Sometimes just to escape the Academy's stone walls and judging stares. But mostly to find something real.
Ahead, he spotted someone moving unevenly along the same path. A woman, by the look of her. She wore a cloak, rich in fabric but caked in dust now, and walked with urgency one step forward, two glances behind.
She looked out of place.
Eli slowed instinctively, his instincts sharpening. No one dressed like that came here without a reason.
Up ahead, a couple of men blocked the narrow road, their rough voices carrying in the quiet air. The woman's face tightened with worry as the men stepped closer, blocking her way.
Eli didn't hesitate. He quickened his steps and called out, "Hey! Leave her alone."
The men turned toward him with sneers. "Who's this? Another weak kid trying to play hero?"
He squared his shoulders. "She doesn't need you bothering her. Back off."
They laughed but didn't move until Eli stood firmly in front of the woman, ready to protect her. The woman's eyes met his, silently pleading for help. That was enough for him.
Even if it meant trouble, Eli wasn't going to turn away. He reached out his hand, helping her past the men and away from danger.