Chapter 28: Winds of Awakening
Chirp! Chirp!
The melodic calls of birds echoed across the awakening skies as dawn broke over Volaris City. Golden light spilled like molten sunlight across the rooftops, painting the misty skyline in soft hues of warmth. A gentle fog clung to the buildings' edges, muting their sharp lines, while drifting clouds surrendered to morning's embrace.
At the city's eastern edge—where the rising sprawl kissed the feet of the northern hills—stood a grand estate. Secluded yet sprawling, it pulsed with early morning life. More than just a place of comfort, it was a bastion of prestige and power—where tradition whispered through old stone and progress hummed beneath glowing sigils.
The estate was alive.
Mana-powered vehicles glided silently through arcane-etched gates, their frames sleek and soundless. Scholars in rune-stitched robes passed armored sentinels along cobbled paths flanked by peach blossoms and ancient oaks that thrummed with ambient energy. Morning dew mingled with traces of elemental mana, perfuming the air with something both ancient and alive.
At the heart of this sanctuary, a wide training field buzzed with motion and purpose. Youths in enchanted robes sparred, meditated, and honed their gifts under the watchful eyes of seasoned instructors. Animated constructs danced through drills, while floating crystals pulsed with lessons waiting to be learned.
Here, power was forged.
Mana cracked through the air—lightning, flame, water, wind, and stone bursting in vibrant arcs. A girl danced within a cyclone of ice-blades; a boy struck the ground and sent a jagged shockwave through a stone dummy. This was no idle training ground—it was the crucible where the next generation of elite Awakeners was born.
And at its center, beyond pristine gardens and whispering manafalls, stood the estate's soul:
The Ling Family Main Manor.
Crafted from blacksteel stone and arcane glass, the manor rose like a monument to legacy. Its eaves, carved in the shape of wings, reached skyward. Shimmering lanterns never dimmed. Ancient wards pulsed along the walls, whispering legends of the past.
The Ling Family—one of the Five Great Houses of the Eastward Federation—called this place home. With a legacy of elemental mastery, battlefield dominance, and mercantile brilliance, the name Ling echoed across the Federation like thunder. In spellforging or politics, they were a force few dared challenge.
And now, within this ancestral stronghold... something stirred.
Mana wards pulsed—faint, like a heartbeat.
Behind enchanted doors and sigil-locked chambers, a moment unfolded. One that would ripple far beyond these ancient walls.
---
In a quiet wing of the manor, untouched by the morning bustle, a young girl sat cross-legged upon a woven mana mat. Light filtered through enchanted glass, casting soft fractals across the polished floor.
She was sixteen. Delicate. Focused.
Her raven-black hair spilled like flowing ink down her back, catching reflections of floating mana motes. Her jade training robes were threaded with wind-attuned runes, shimmering faintly despite the stillness.
A golden crystal pulsed in her hands.
Mana swirled softly around her, flowing in rhythm with her breath and the glowing stone's pulse.
Crack!
The sound pierced the silence like fate snapping into place.
The crystal fractured. Fissures spread like lightning before the stone burst into golden dust. The particles hovered briefly—then vanished.
Her emerald eyes snapped open, bright with intensity.
Mana surged.
A sudden whirlwind burst from her body, flinging scrolls and lamps into the air. Windows rattled. A mana lamp shattered against the wall.
Yet she remained still.
A slow, victorious grin curved her lips.
"Haha! Finally!" she laughed, voice light but fierce. "Level 20… I'm a Magic Adept now!"
She rose, excitement vibrating through her every step.
"Advanced spells... real techniques…" Her eyes gleamed. "Soon I'll be strong enough to protect Brother Lei Feng from anyone who dares touch him!"
The doors swung open before her—responding to her will.
Behind her, the room lay in shimmering disarray.
Moments later, two uniformed maids entered. With well-practiced grace—and no sign of surprise—they began restoring order. It wasn't the first time Young Miss Ling Mei had caused a mana storm.
And it wouldn't be the last.
---
Tap… tap… tap…
Her footsteps echoed lightly as she made her way through the Arcane Wing. The hall shimmered with enchantments—each tile beneath her feet casting faint runes with every step. Crystal chandeliers hovered overhead like stars frozen in orbit.
Servants and stewards passed, bowing with respect.
"Good morning, Young Miss."
"Congratulations on your breakthrough, Lady Ling."
She returned their greetings with bright smiles and soft nods, her heart still fluttering with triumph.
At last, she reached a towering set of double doors inlaid with floating sigils.
Beep—
An arcane sensor flickered to life, scanning her aura. A red rune blinked, then shifted green.
With a gentle hiss, the doors parted.
She stepped into the Ling Family Main Library.
The scent of ancient parchment and layered magic filled the air. Tomes hovered mid-shelf. Scrolls pulsed faintly with preserved mana. Shelves stretched skyward, shifting silently on floating tracks.
Behind a moonstone desk sat a woman in gold-rimmed glasses, gaze fixed on a book. Her presence was calm—but commanding.
"Good morning, Madam Liana," Ling Mei greeted with a respectful bow.
The librarian gave a small nod, never looking up. She didn't need to.
Ling Liana, a Level 45 Hydromancer, was no mere librarian. After a rare Class Upgrade, she'd reached near-legendary control over water-based magic. Her role here was not only to protect knowledge—but to guard it.
Ling Mei walked past her, drawn to shelves labeled Wind Techniques – Intermediate Tier and Mana Manipulation – Phase Two. Her fingers brushed the worn spines.
"Just a few more days," she whispered, "and I'll be ready to see Brother Lei Feng again. Visit the wilderness… enter the Tournament… I'll be ready."
Tap.
A light touch on her shoulder made her jump.
"Ah!"
She spun—and gasped.
A woman stood there—elegant and radiant. Her golden eyes glowed softly. Emerald hair cascaded like flowing vines. A gold gown wrapped her frame like starlight.
"S-Sister!"
Eira smiled—a calm, knowing curve of her lips.
"You're jumpy," she said smoothly.
"You nearly gave me a heart attack!" Ling Mei puffed.
"You should work on your spatial awareness," Eira replied, teasing. "A wind mage should feel every shift in the air."
Ling Mei pouted.
"Guess what?"
Eira tilted her head, amused. "What?"
"Level 20. I'm a Magic Adept now!"
A pause.
"…Took you long enough," Eira deadpanned.
Ling Mei deflated. "That's it? No praise?"
"Do you want me to summon fireworks?" Eira smirked.
"…A little celebration wouldn't hurt," Ling Mei muttered.
Eira chuckled. "Fine. Congratulations, little windstorm."
A blush crept up Ling Mei's cheeks.
They stood a moment in quiet, sisterly silence.
Then—
"You're here for spell scrolls?" Eira asked.
Ling Mei nodded.
"Come," Eira said, turning. Her gown shimmered with every step—grace hiding power. "I'll show you something fitting for your wind affinity."
They walked side by side between towering shelves.
And as they moved forward, a quiet resolve took root in Ling Mei's heart.
She had taken her first step into a higher realm of power.
But beyond the safety of stone and scrolls, distant storms were brewing—silent, unseen, and inexorable.
Though she burned with resolve, the winds of fate had already begun to shift.
Somewhere beyond her reach... her destiny was being shaped.