The Contracter's Conquest

Chapter 2: The Hollow Awakening

The day of Lukas's thirteenth birthday celebration had passed, but the excitement lingered in the air. The small group of friends and family had gathered again, this time for Sylas's own special day. It was a warm afternoon in Florence, and while the festivities were simple—a few treats, laughter, and well-wishes—the anticipation was palpable.

Sylas's awakening was set to occur at 3:48 PM, the exact time of his birth. Everyone, including Lukas, counted down the moments. Lukas, who had awakened just ten days prior, was particularly enthusiastic. He leaned close to Sylas, grinning.

"Only a few minutes left," Lukas said, nudging him. "You ready for this?"

Sylas smiled nervously. "I hope it's something cool, like yours," he said, glancing at the small spheres of mana Lukas had conjured earlier, which now floated lazily around him.

The room grew quiet as the clock approached the appointed time. At exactly 3:48 PM, a sudden light enveloped Sylas, radiant and warm. Everyone gasped as the glow intensified, then began to condense and shift. The brilliance faded, gathering on Sylas's right wrist to form a tattoo-like ring, etched with intricate, glowing inscriptions.

The crowd erupted in cheers, Lukas clapping Sylas on the back with excitement. "That's amazing! It's unique! A tattoo Ring—no one in town has ever awakened one like that!"

Sylas stared at the mark in awe, his heart racing. The design was beautiful, almost alive, as the inscriptions shimmered faintly. His parents beamed with pride, and the onlookers exchanged murmurs of admiration.

"Come on, Sylas," Lukas said, tugging at his arm. "Let's see what it can do! Try using it!"

The crowd fell silent again, all eyes on Sylas. He nodded hesitantly, his excitement mingled with nervousness. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, trying to sense the flow of mana within him. It felt warm and steady, like a gentle current beneath his skin.

He directed the mana toward the Ring on his wrist, expecting it to respond, to come alive with power. But nothing happened.

Frowning, Sylas tried again, focusing harder this time. Yet, no matter how much he concentrated, he couldn't feel the mana flowing into the Ring. In fact, it felt as though the Ring wasn't there at all—just an empty mark on his wrist.

His eyes snapped open, panic flashing across his face. "I... I can't feel it," he said, his voice trembling. "I can't feel the Ring. It's like it's not even there."

The crowd exchanged uncertain glances, the celebratory mood quickly dimming. Lukas's brow furrowed, and he placed a reassuring hand on Sylas's shoulder. "Maybe you're just tired? It's your first time trying, after all."

Sylas shook his head. "No, it's not that. I can feel my mana... but it won't connect to the Ring. It's like..." He hesitated, swallowing hard. "It's like the Ring isn't real."

His parents stepped forward, their expressions a mix of concern and confusion. "Sylas, don't worry," his mother said gently. "It might take time. Some Rings require a special trigger or moment to activate their true power."

Elder Marlowe, who had been observing from the edge of the gathering, approached slowly, his weathered face unreadable. He studied the inscription on Sylas's wrist for a long moment, his fingers brushing over the glowing lines.

"This is... unusual," the elder said at last, his tone grave. "I have seen many awakenings in my time, but never a Ring like this."

"Is something wrong with it?" Sylas asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The elder shook his head. "Not wrong, but... different. This is no ordinary Ring. Its nature is hidden, perhaps even dormant. Whatever power it holds, it may not reveal itself easily."

The elder's words did little to comfort Sylas, but he nodded nonetheless. Around him, the crowd began to disperse, their initial excitement now tinged with unease.

Lukas stayed behind, clapping Sylas on the back again. "Don't sweat it," he said, grinning. "You'll figure it out. And when you do, I bet it'll be something incredible."

Sylas tried to smile, but his mind was spinning. He stared down at the Ring on his wrist, the glowing inscriptions now dim and unreadable. What kind of awakening was this? Why couldn't he feel its presence?

As the sun began to set over Florence, Sylas sat alone in his room, the faint light of the Ring casting shadows on the walls. For the first time in his life, he felt the weight of uncertainty pressing down on him.

Deep within him, something stirred—a faint, unfamiliar sensation, like the echo of a distant voice. But it vanished as quickly as it had come, leaving Sylas to wonder if he had imagined it.

Little did he know, his journey had just begun.

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