Snow had been falling since morning, covering the Town of Sliya in a thin white blanket.
The river beside the town flowed quietly, and the cold air carried the smell of winter. Sliya was a small town in Lushan Province, home to a little over fifty thousand people. Most of them were common folk with too little mana, too weak to ever become Spirit Warriors.
Yet, in the center of Sliya stood something unusual. A large stone building, tall and proud, carved with ancient runes that never faded.
It was the Hall of Soul Spirit, built to test children and awaken their soul cards. The only reason it existed was that centuries ago, a living seven-star Spirit Warrior had once been born here.
Every year, children with hopeful eyes came to that hall. Some awakened small talents, and a few even reached three-star or four-star.
But none of them ever went beyond that.
Their lives remained short, and their names disappeared into history like footprints in snow.
Today was the last day of the year, and the town was full of life.
People decorated their doors, hung lanterns, and cleaned their homes. The town workers shoveled snow from the streets while merchants prepared for the night's celebration. Even the cold couldn't stop the laughter echoing through the town.
On the western side of Sliya, where most houses were built close together, there stood one home that looked different.
It was larger, with a wide courtyard and thick wooden gates. Compared to the nearby residences, it looked almost too grand. Anyone passing by would assume a rich family lived inside.
And they would be right, although the money wasn't just the reason people respected that house.
The family living there belonged to a divine physician/divine healer in town. He treated every patient who came to him, and he never asked for payment, not even a single copper coin.
Inside the house, the air smelled strongly of herbs and warm medicine. The room was crowded, filled with weak coughing and tired voices. People sat on benches, waiting their turn, while others lay on mats on the floor. In the middle of it all, a girl worked quietly.
She was only eight years old, with neat short black hair and wheat-colored skin. Her clothes were simple but clean, and sweat covered her forehead. Even so, her eyes were sharp and focused. She wiped her face and spoke with excitement.
"Grandpa, look. I did it."
The old man beside him smiled, his eyes full of pride. His hair was white, but his posture was steady and strong. He nodded slowly, like he was judging a student's performance. "Good job, Dawn. You are improving fast."
Dawn lowered her head slightly, as if embarrassed. "I don't think I'm talented like you, Grandpa." Her voice was honest, not bitter. She then reached into the basket beside her and took out a potion bottle with a label that says Energy Potion.
She took one of the Energy Recovery Potions and swallowed it in one go.
Warm energy flowed into his body, and the tired feeling in her chest eased a little. Without wasting time, he grabbed a detoxification potion again and turned toward the next patient.
A young girl was brought forward, her face red with fever. Her breathing was uneven, and her mother held her tightly. Dawn gently opened the girl's mouth and poured the potion while using her mana control to guide it through the girl.
As the potion dissolved and spread into the girl's body, slowly, the girl's skin cooled, and her breathing steadied. Meanwhile, Dawn continued to use the little mana she had to monitor the girl's condition by probing her inside system with a hand placed on the patient's forehead.
When the job was done, Dawn's mana drained again.
Hours passed like that. One patient after another entered the room. Each time Dawn healed them, her face grew paler and her hands shook more due to the constant consumption and recovery of her mana. Sweat soaked her clothes, and her breathing became heavier.
Finally, she collapsed onto the floor with a tired sigh.
"Phew…"
Her grandUncle's expression changed, and he stepped closer. "Take rest, Dawn." His voice was gentle, but firm. Dawn didn't argue this time. She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling as if she could see the future hidden there.
"I wonder what my soul spirit will be," she murmured.
Her grandUncle's eyes softened, and a small smile returned. "What are you wishing for?" he asked. He expected a simple answer, something like a unicorn, or a healing herb, something useful for a healer's path.
Dawn didn't answer immediately. Her lips moved slightly, as if she were weighing his words. Then she spoke in a quiet voice. "Maybe… a tool-type Soul Spirit. I was sick of only learning alchemy and medicine."
The old man froze. His smile faded, and his eyes widened slightly. For a moment, he looked as if he had been struck by a memory. But before he could respond, the door opened again.
Two men entered, carrying an old man between them. The old man's face was dark, and his body looked stiff. A strange black aura clung to him like smoke. Even before anyone spoke, Dawn's eyes narrowed.
"There's no use in saving him," Dawn muttered.
His grandUncle turned sharply. "Hmm? What did you say?" His voice was low, almost warning.
Dawn quickly looked away and rolled onto her side. "Nothing," she replied. Her voice sounded calm, but her fingers clenched tightly. Her eyes closed, and she whispered under her breath, "Not again…"
The day ended with the town celebrating outside.
Lanterns lit up the streets, and laughter filled the cold air. People welcomed the new year with joy and hope.
Morning came quickly, and the streets became crowded once again.
Parents walked with their children toward the Hall of Soul Spirit, holding their hands tightly. Today was the Awakening Ceremony. Children between eight and twelve years old would awaken their soul cards using an awakening scroll.
Those who awakened a Soul Spirit would be recommended to Larnwick Academy. Those who received blank soul cards would return to ordinary lives. For many families, this day decided everything. Hope, pride, or disappointment would all be born here.
Inside the hall, a three-star Spirit Warrior sat before the awakening scroll. His expression was tired and uninterested, as if he had seen too many failures. When Dawn stepped forward, the man barely looked up.
"State your name and age."
Dawn stood straight. "Dawn. Eight years old."
The Spirit Warrior paused. Hearing no surname, he sighed quietly. Still, he motioned toward the scroll. "Place your hands on it."
Dawn placed her palms on the scroll, with complex runes inscribed on it. The surface felt warm, almost alive at the touch. The Spirit Warrior muttered an incantation, and the scroll began to glow brighter. Dawn suddenly heard his heartbeat pounding loudly in his ears.
Then everything changed.
The hall vanished, and the world around her shifted like a dream.
Dawn found herself standing at the edge of a cliff. Below her was an endless, barren land. The sky above was covered with thick black clouds.
Dark aura then began to rise from the corpses like smoke. It twisted and gathered, forming a single shape. Slowly, a giant specter appeared. It had a skeleton body and a skull-like face hidden under a deep hood. A long black cloak covered it completely, fluttering like a shadow in the storm.
In its right hand, it held a strange weapon, a long pole with a curved blade at the top. It looked like a scythe, but larger and colder, like it was made for something far worse than harvesting crops. An hourglass hung at its waist, swinging slightly as if time itself was trapped inside.
Dawn's body trembled. Fear gripped her chest, and her breath became shallow. She couldn't move, couldn't look away. The specter lifted its head, and its voice echoed across the dead land.
"My chosen apostle, receive my power."