My Arcane System

Kaelen’s life had been a series of disappointments, one crushing blow after another. From the moment he opened his eyes in a world where magic determined everything, he had been cursed with insignificance.

He was born into a poor, powerless family in the slums of Altheria, a city ruled by those blessed with magical talent. Every child in the city learned magic from the moment they could speak, but Kaelen… he couldn’t. His spells fizzled, his incantations failed, and every attempt left him humiliated. Even the city beggars mocked him.

He remembered the day he tried to cast his first fireball. The entire square had gathered. The wind carried the scent of roasted bread and warm tea from the market stalls, and he had wanted, desperately, to impress the children and adults alike. He closed his eyes, focused every ounce of willpower… and all that came out was a tiny spark that sputtered, fizzled, and died midair.

The laughter had been merciless. “Pathetic,” one child snickered. “Why even bother?” a merchant had jeered. Even his so-called mentors had shook their heads, sighing. “He has no talent. Just… give up.”

That had been years ago, but the memory burned him every day. Since then, nothing had gone right. The city itself seemed to mock him. Wealthy children played in the sunlight, their magic sparkling bright in contrast to his empty hands. Meanwhile, Kaelen scavenged scraps from gutters and begged for small jobs that barely kept him fed. Every effort at survival ended in some new humiliation. He had learned that the world did not care for the powerless. People avoided him. Teachers dismissed him. Even his family, though they loved him, could not shield him from the truth: in this world, strength defined worth, and he had none.

Today, he trudged through the slums, his stomach growling, his hands blistered. But in his pocket, he clutched a small pouch of dried herbs. It was for his mother. Her breath was shallow, her heart failing, and she was the only person left who looked at him without disgust. She was his only anchor.

The alley he stumbled into was narrow and dark, a shortcut he often took. But today, misfortune had already found him.

A hand yanked him by the shoulder. He spun, only to find a young noble boy, Valen, his expression twisted in amusement.

“You’re in the wrong place, commoner,” Valen sneered. Before Kaelen could speak, Valen spotted the pouch. With a flick of a finger, a spark of fire turned the medicine into a handful of black ash.

“No!” Kaelen gasped, falling to his knees to claw at the charred remains.

“Look at him,” Valen laughed to his friends. “Scrambling in the dirt like the rat he is. You’re a disgrace, Kaelen. Why are you even breathing? You’re just taking up space that belongs to your betters.”

They kicked him until his ribs sang with pain and his vision blurred. Finally, Valen dragged him toward the bridge railing. “If you won’t do the world a favor and disappear, let us help you. Let’s see if a void can float.”

They bound his wrists with enchanted rope, mocking his struggles. With a violent shove, Kaelen was sent tumbling into the dark, swirling depths.

The water enveloped him immediately—biting cold, crushing pressure. He sank. For a moment, as he drifted, the memories of every insult and every bruise washed over him. This is peace, he thought. This is nothing.

But then, the image of his mother flashed in his mind—waiting, gasping for air in a room that grew colder by the hour. He saw Valen’s smirking face. He felt the weight of eighteen years of being stepped on, mocked, and thrown away.

Suddenly, the "peace" of the river felt like a lie.

Hatred, white-hot and jagged, erupted in his chest. It burned through the icy water, a roar of pure, unfiltered rage against a world that had decided he was worthless.

I will not die!

He began to struggle, his bound arms thrashing against the ropes, his legs kicking with a strength he didn't know he possessed. He clawed at the water, his lungs screaming for air, his mind screaming for vengeance. He didn't want the river’s silence; he wanted the world to hear his scream. He wanted to live. He had to live. For his mother. For the debt the city owed him.

I want to live! Give me back my life!

His heart gave a violent, erratic thud that shook his entire frame. The darkness of the riverbed didn't swallow him; it recoiled. A pulse of azure light throbbed from the silt below, cold and heavy as a heartbeat.

As his vision finally began to fade, a mechanical chime—sharp, alien, and absolute—shattered the silence of his soul.

[Critical Despair Threshold Reached.]

[Detection: Absolute Will to Survive.]

[Initializing the Arcane System...]

“My, my,” a sharp, mocking voice echoed in his mind. “That is quite a lot of hate for such a small body. Shall we open an account, investor? Or would you prefer to keep taking up space at the bottom?”