บท 3: A Mysterious Voice
"...I see that you have finally decided to awaken me again." a mysterious voice called out.
The voice seemed to have belonged to a young man, possessing a bright and pleasant quality.
Arvell whipped around to face the voice calling out to him, but nothing was there.
As Arvell looked around and tried to identify his surroundings, he noticed that he was stranded in a black empty void.
"Is someone there?" he shouted at the top of his lungs.
"I see… so you don't even know that you've awakened me."
Now that he'd heard it for the second time, Arvell was able to confirm it.
The mysterious voice wasn't coming from any particular "direction"; it was coming from every direction simultaneously.
However, despite the confusing setting, he felt a feeling of nostalgia… as if he had been here a long time ago but simply forgot due to the constant passage of time.
"Where am I?" Arvell inquired.
"Sigh… I guess it's still too early for you. Judging by the amount of blood I received, I still don't have enough energy for my soul to materialize. The blood received is still nowhere near enough...".
"You will most likely forget our encounter when you wake up again. But if somehow you remember meeting with me this time… Provide me with your blood, as much blood as you can give up. Only then can I materialize, and once I do, I will help you become powerful enough to shake this world to its core."
"What do you mean? Who are you?" Arvell desperately screamed. He felt his consciousness slowly leaving this place.
"You will know in due time. For now, I'll use the energy I received from your blood to leave you a parting gift again. Make sure to use it well".
A shining white silhouette formed from the endless void and covered Arvell's eyes with what appeared to be a spectral hand.
Arvell felt some kind of ethereal energy enter his eyes, filling his body with unknown power.
"If you wish to use this power, simply look at something and say 'status'; the rest should explain itself."
As if on cue Arvell's body started plummeting into the abyss below.
Arvell screamed while looking up at the spectre and desperately tried to reach his hand towards him.
However, his body only continued to fall farther and farther down into the abyss.
After desperately struggling to stay awake, Arvell gave into his drowsiness and fell back into a deep slumber.
***
Feeling a bright light on his eyelids, Arvell slowly opened them.
He looked up at the unfamiliar ceiling and gave himself a few seconds to recollect his thoughts.
His memories from yesterday slowly came back to him.
Finally, he could piece together the events that led to him ending up in his sorry predicament.
Arvell moved some stray strands of his chestnut-coloured hair off his face and groggily rubbed his eyes, yawning.
He felt a wave of confusion and placed his hand tightly on his head.
I...I feel… like I forget something…
Something important…
But no matter how hard Arvell tried, he couldn't recall it. It vanished as if it was just a dream.
However, one word was seemingly stuck in his head.
He looked at his palm. Then, after staring at it for a good minute, he slowly muttered "status" as if it was second nature.
Arvell was momentarily shocked by the sight that he beheld.
A blue rectangle filled with words and numbers suddenly appeared before his eyes.
[Status Information]
Name: Arvell Relas Vispia
Species: Human
Age: 13 years old
HP: 13
STA: 10
DEF: 8
SPD: 9
PHYS ATK: 9
POWER STAGE: 0TH CIRCLE 0TH STAGE
■■: ???
MP: 0
■■: ???
■■: ???
Titles: 3rd Prince of Vispia (Exiled), ■■■■■■■, ■■■■■■■
Skills: Incomplete Royal Swordsmanship (C+), Diplomacy (B-),..., ■■■■■■■ (???), ■■■■■■■ (???), ■■■■■■■(???)
From what he understood, this appears to be quite similar to the "appraise" skill used by the priest during his coming of age ceremony.
Arvell was incredibly confused about this. He didn't recall having this skill before; only unique existences such as the head priest would have such skills.
Who knows? Maybe if he had this skill before, he wouldn't have been kicked from the castle, mana or not.
But the real question was, how can he use skills without mana?
Having mana was the prerequisite to using skills, and even the head priest had to use a lot of mana to use just his appraisal skill.
He then looked at his MP value which displayed his current mana with renewed vigour.
Only to regret getting his hopes up.
'It's zero, huh? Not even a one? I guess fate really likes pulling cruel tricks on me….'
Hearing it come from the head priest and looking at it himself were two completely different experiences.
Arvell felt disbelief when he heard it from the priest's mouth, but when he saw it with his own eyes, the only thing he felt was a sombre acceptance of his tragic fate.
However, there was no merit in crying over spilt milk.
He looked at his power stage. His being at the zeroth state of the zeroth circle made sense since he couldn't use mana and didn't have a way to increase his power stage.
But wait… wasn't it called magic circle? For some reason, the status screen used a different term from everyone else's.
Maybe it's just a coincidence, Arvell thought to himself.
But somehow, he knew with absolute certainty that the status plate was showing his magic circle.
Magic circles have 9 circles, and each circle has 9 stages.
The strongest mages in the world had a magic cycle stage of 7, and these people were few and far between.
They were the goals of almost all aspiring mages in the world. King Vispia was a sixth circle magician and one of the most significant deterrence for foreign powers.
After all, it was common sense that going against a sixth circle magician without being one yourself was equivalent to forfeiting your life willingly.
As Arvell read through the information presented on the skill page, he quickly noticed the many "?" and "■" symbols filling up a large section of his character information window.
He tried to read over his details repeatedly, but there weren't any hints regarding the nature of these hidden values.
Whatever they were, they somehow wholly slipped through the head priest's 'appraise' skill and remained somewhat hidden on his newly discovered 'status' skill.
Since there was little to nothing Arvell could do about it, for the time being, he decided to leave it alone.
He scrutinized the half-melted candle on top of the drawer and pondered.
'Could I use status on this as well?'
Arvell looked at the candle and muttered, "status."
[Status Information]
Item name: Wax Candle (degraded)
Durability: 20/45
[A candle made primarily of wax that serves as a light source in the dark]
'So I can also use this skill to observe other objects' information. This definitely will come in handy.'
Arvell pulled the ragged and worn-out blanket off his body and felt the cold air assaulted his skin.
After groggily pulling himself up and getting dressed, he put his remaining possessions back into his pockets and left the dingy inn room.
At the inn keeper's desk, he was surprised to find a plump woman with a scowl on her face standing where that swindling cheat was yesterday.
Perhaps he was still in bed with a hangover?
Arvell let out a faint smirk from under his hood.
Serves him right.
The lady gave Arvell an indifferent glance.
"Are you done for the night, sir?" She asked cordially, although her expression betrayed her words.
Feeling that at least this was better than that drunk cheat, Arvell didn't bother to retort.
Instead, he fished up the room key and handed it to her.
She greedily snatched it and shooed him out.
Arvell stepped out of the run-down inn and inhaled a breath of fresh air.
The pungent smell permeating through the inn reminded him of sweaty, unwashed feet, so getting some fresh air was nice for a change.
Except… he forgot he was wearing a cloak that he picked up from a garbage pile.
He immediately started coughing and gagging, immensely regretting his previous decision.
Although the inn was pretty nauseating, his worn-out cloak was far worse.
After stabilizing his breathing, Arvell looked at the crowded street and slowly wormed his way onto it.
Arvell proceeded to weave through the bustling streets, avoiding revealing his face or the royal attire hidden under his cloak.
A loud voice rang out as he passed through the streets and caught his attention.
"Prince Arvell Relas Vispia has been banished from the castle, and his royal status has been stripped. He has shown himself devoid of even a drop of mana." A nearby crier announced.
People in the crowd gasped and murmured, evidently shocked by the turn of events.
"What a disgrace… Not even a single drop of mana, you say? No wonder he got the boot."
"To think that someone with no mana was in the running to become the king of our country? I feel sick just thinking about it."
Arvell grimly hardened his expression and began to walk out of the crowd.
"That poor boy," someone behind him faintly muttered.
Arvell suddenly whipped his face around in confusion.
A young lady with a newborn baby in her hand seemed appalled by the behaviour of those around her.
Still, she decided to keep her opinions to herself.
Opposing the king's decision was nothing short of treason, so she wisely kept quiet.
Arvell felt a part of his frozen heart melt from finding out that someone other than his mother sympathized with his current plight.
More so since it was never his fault, to begin with.
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