The more straightforward exams were now behind me. I faced the trials that had always been my stumbling block. At sixteen, this was my last opportunity to secure a System. I firmly believed my skills in combat should have been enough to earn one, but the rigid requirement for magical affinity stood as an insurmountable barrier. Systems were rare, bestowed only upon those with innate spellcasting abilities. This harsh reality felt unjust; I knew I could best any of my peers in combat, magic or not, but the rules were unyielding. My lineage had not blessed me with magical talents, a truth that weighed on me like a heavy cloak.

Yet, undeterred by the overwhelming odds, I stood ready to face fate head-on. With the instructor's approval, I advanced to the magic affinity tests. Leaving the room, I braced myself for the first of these challenges. My plan was to tackle each spell type in turn – Necromancy, Elemental, Summoning, Conjuring, Healing, and so forth. If I could demonstrate even a semblance of ability in any of these areas, I would qualify for a System.

Eagerly, I approached the Necromancy affinity test. My challenge: to resurrect a lifeless frog, an endeavor that had previously slipped through my fingers. As I drew nearer to the ominous-looking room, my eyes caught the expressions of those exiting – faces alight with the glow of success, deepening the knot of anxiety in my stomach.

Stepping into the necromancy room, a rush of anticipation surged through me. The instructor, whose demeanor was more akin to a benevolent scholar than a practitioner of dark arts, welcomed me with a warm smile. I walked confidently to my designated spot, each step a reflection of my previous visits to this very room. A fleeting thought crossed my mind: perhaps the Academy might consider me for an assistant, given my repeated sojourns here.

The instructor, methodical and patient, outlined the procedure. He encouraged me to delve deep, to unearth any dormant necromantic potential. “Are you prepared?” he asked. I nodded, my heart racing as he performed a brief incantation. The lively frog on the table stilled, its limbs going limp and its once bright eyes dimming. I found myself pondering the number of times this tiny creature had been forced to play its role in this grim cycle of death and revival.

Focusing intently, I attempted to channel any necromantic energy I might possess. Yet, despite my fervent concentration and will, the frog remained still, unresponsive to my efforts. While trying to perform the magic, I kept repeating "Life finds a way" to myself over and over again. However, this time, it just couldn't find that path.

The room’s dim light cast elongated shadows over its walls, adorned with arcane symbols and relics, amplifying my growing sense of failure. The instructor, standing by with patience and an encouraging demeanor, tried to guide me, but the magic he spoke of eluded my grasp. As I looked at the lifeless frog, a deep sense of empathy washed over me. All I wanted was to rescue it from this cruel cycle and escape the suffocating confines of the room. Yet, I knew that taking it with me would deny it any chance of being revived.

With a heavy heart, I requested to be excused. Each step away from the examination table felt like an acknowledgment of defeat, a recognition of yet another failed attempt. I couldn't bear the thought of lingering in the shadow of my inadequacy. I needed to shake off the disappointment and try the Elemental affinity test next. Today was not the day to give up—I had to keep pushing forward for my sake and that of the little frog.

Walking toward the Elemental affinity exam room, a wave of melancholy washed over me. The hallway buzzed with excitement and lively conversations as students eagerly shared their triumphs. In contrast to the niche necromancy class, the room overflowed with people, amplifying my sense of isolation.

Amidst the bustling crowd, I felt like an outsider. My peers effortlessly manipulated various elements, producing sparks and flashes of light as evidence of their prowess. To pass the exam, I needed to conjure an orb of any element. Though I knew my magical aptitude was virtually non-existent, a desperate hope lingered that a last-minute miracle might occur.

Alas, no miracle materialized. Try as I might, not even a single element responded to my call. Leaving the room, my cheeks burned with humiliation as whispers of surprise and disappointment trailed behind me. I couldn't bear to meet the curious gazes of others, so I kept my head low and continued down the hall.

With each failed exam, my self-assurance waned, and I dragged myself to the next test. My spirit sank lower, seemingly approaching rock bottom. The Divination affinity exam offered no reprieve—I failed to guess even a single word the teacher had written. The Summoning affinity exam proved just as disheartening, as I couldn't summon even the slightest wisp of a presence.

Though doubt gnawed at me, surrender was not an option. The echo of my mother's “encouraging” words kept the flames of determination alive within me. I took the Healing and Conjuring affinity tests with the same determination, hoping to pass at least one of them. I was even willing to accept being a support mage as long as I could leave this wretched city. But all of my efforts proved to be in vain.

Sitting on the cold stone steps of the Academy, my mind drifted back to the day's failed exams and the long-cherished dream I had pursued. Becoming a support mage would have been acceptable, but my true desire was to prove myself as a swordsman. Yet, after countless attempts, that dream seemed perpetually out of reach.

My inability to pass the exams meant I would miss out on gaining a System and the chance to study in the prestigious Academy, which lay beyond the city's protective walls. Frustration simmered within me, thinking about the Shading, that mysterious and ominous magic enveloping our world. Its oppressive presence was a constant burden, a shadow over our lives. If only I had succeeded, becoming a Nightbearer, perhaps I could have fought against this encroaching darkness.

As I sat huddled on the steps, stories of the world outside the city walls, once told by my parents, echoed in my thoughts. Tales of thriving villages and expansive landscapes, all now a distant memory as the Shading crept closer, forcing people to seek refuge within Arihe's confines. This sinister force's origins were an enigma, shrouded in mystery and fear, leaving us isolated and trapped.

Reflecting on those stories, I felt the weight of confinement not just from Arihe's walls but from the limitations within me. The city, once a haven of safety and civilization, now felt more like a gilded prison. My dreams of seeing the world beyond, experiencing the freedom my parents once knew, felt impossible without a System, without the magical abilities that seemed to define one's worth in this world. And beside that you just can’t leave the dome without a System artifact.

The night air grew colder as I sat there, lost in thought. The distant sounds of the city's nightlife were a stark contrast to the silence surrounding me. Students had left, their futures seemingly secure, while I remained adrift, directionless.

Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

In my heart, I knew I had the courage and skill of a Nightbearer, yet without a System, I was invisible to those who could make my dream a reality. The night sky, visible through the open dome above, seemed to mock my earthbound aspirations.

I stood up from the steps, I was trying to find a new resolve took hold. If the Academy wouldn't accept me, I would find another way to challenge the Shading, to carve my own path in the world. The journey ahead might be uncharted and fraught with uncertainties, but I was ready to face it head-on, with or without the Academy's recognition. But there was no such a way.

Roaming the shadowy, labyrinthine streets of Arihe, a shroud of hopelessness wrapped around me, each step echoing the day’s disheartening failures. The thought of returning home was unbearable. Our family's dire economic situation had hinged on my admission to the Academy, a hope to lighten the burden of one more mouth to feed. But I had failed them. My mother’s words about a Plan B haunted me, a reminder of their dwindling options.

I involuntarily cursed my luck. My parents, whom I loved deeply, had not bestowed upon me even a trace of magical talent. It was hardly surprising, given neither of them possessed any magical affinity themselves.

Refusing to succumb to a future of unfulfilled dreams, I sought solace in the city’s nocturnal embrace, despite its lurking dangers. My skill with the sword was my one true strength, and I longed to feel in control, if only for a moment. Yet, as I wandered, a sense of despair clung to me, painting my future as bleak and uncertain as death itself.

The cold night winds bit into my skin as I aimlessly traversed the city, too restless to return home. I felt confined within these walls that had always seemed too small for my ambitions. My life had been dedicated to mastering the art of the sword, inspired by tales of Nightbearers who braved the world beyond in daring quests. But to the city council, I was unworthy.

Confident in my prowess with the rapier, capable of besting even older duelists, I seethed at the council's foolishness. Why should my lack of magic bar me from earning a System artifact? My rapier and I were a formidable force, deserving of a chance to prove ourselves.

I tried to find a way to let out my frustration by meandering from bustling taverns to eerily silent streets, but the people of the night seemed to be unaware of my distress, which made me feel even more alone.

Just as I was about to succumb to defeat and head home, a commotion from a nearby alley piqued my curiosity. The sounds of conflict – shouts and pained cries – filled the air. Despite my apprehension, I was drawn to the source of the noise.

Cautiously stepping into the dark alley, a grim scene unfolded before me. Three men lay motionless on the ground, their bodies bearing signs of a brutal encounter. Nearby, a wounded pale blue skin man leaned against the wall, his armor, his face and greatsword stained with blood. Even though the sight gave me the chills, I was unable to take my eyes off of this unexpected scene.

The injured man in front of me looked like a nightmare in the dim alley light. His eyes gleamed with a dark red color, and his skin glowed an unusual blue. Pain and ferocity twisted his features, sending a chill down my spine. As I cautiously watched him, my heart pounded against my ribs, a chaotic symphony of fear and resolve.

Suddenly, the blue beast reached out towards me with a trembling, pale-blue arm. A guttural hiss escaped its lips, a sound that seemed to echo off the alley walls. In that instant, fear eclipsed all reason. The hissing, the outstretched arm, the otherworldly appearance – everything merged into a single, terrifying threat in my mind. But I understood the words that this diabolical voice was yelling at me: "Help me!"

I stood frozen, I reached my rapier but it slipped from fingers gone numb, clattering to the cobblestones with a haunting echo. That beast kept yelling at me, it was trying to reach me. But I stood there in a shock-like state. What was that thing? How could I help him?

And in a brief moment the beast's body slumped, a profound change occurred. His skin shifted from the eerie blue to a more natural tone, the red glow in his eyes fading into the dullness of death. It was only then, in the wake of my rapid, fear-driven reaction, that the full weight of my actions crashed down upon me. It was a Nightbearer.

Horror and regret gripped my heart, squeezing it with an unbearable intensity. I stood there frozen with fear. I could only watch him die slowly and painfully. But the truth was stark and irrevocable—I had watched him die. The stench of blood mingled with the chill night air, transforming the alley into a grim scene. The once fearsome beast, now just a man in death, lay as a stark reminder of the fragile line between fear and reality. Death finds a way too. I tought.

A sharp regret filled me as I stood there, surrounded by the fallout. This was a tragic mistake, a life disappearing in a flash of blind panic, not the heroism I had imagined. The alley, once simply a backdrop to the city's nightlife, had transformed into the stage for a life-altering drama, with me as the unwitting lead.

Could I save him? Was there anything I could do? Should I rush to call for help? Was I responsible for this man's demise?

The horrific sight of the disfigured bodies was combined with the sickening smell of blood. A visceral reaction to the horror I had caused made my stomach turn. I found myself retching uncontrollably in a shadowed corner of the alley, my gaze inadvertently drawn to the fallen Nightbearer, a likely victim of the Shading.

With trembling legs, I forced myself upright, wiping away the bitter remnants of bile. Panic swirled through my mind, each heartbeat amplifying the urgency of my predicament. Amidst the confusion, my eyes landed on the Nightbearer's left wrist, adorned with a glowing System artifact. A mix of fear and desperation seized me. Frantically, I removed the artifact from his unnaturally cold wrist, my fingers quivering as they clasped the forbidden object. Despite the fact that the sight of the relic, the object of my lifelong desire, overwhelmed my senses, I felt like I was being struck by lightning when I realized what I was doing.

I didn't know why I did this. My body acted without thinking. This man was already deceased; he no longer needed this artifact. Furthermore, I wasn't the one responsible for his death. I simply wanted to carve my own path in life. This was all.

I bolted from the scene, sprinting through the darkened streets. My heart pounded in a frantic rhythm, every sense acutely heightened. The weight of my legs contrasted with the imperative need for speed. I had to distance myself from the grisly tableau, from the dismembered bodies and the haunting memory of the blue-skinned Nightbearer.

I finally gave out and fell into a lonely nook, holding my breath against the chilly rock. I needed a moment, just a little break, to clear my head and realize how serious everything had become. I felt a thick layer of regret and self-loathing as a result of my actions.

In the dim light, I stared at the artifact in my trembling hand, its cool surface a stark reminder of the price it had exacted. The potential power within it beckoned, yet the cost of wielding it loomed large. Becoming a Nightbearer had been my dream, but I never envisioned such a nightmarish route to its fulfillment.

I traced the intricate lines of the artifact, feeling its chilling touch against my skin. Memories of my ambitions, my dreams, filled my mind, starkly contrasting with the reality I now faced. In that solemn moment, the weight of my irreversible actions settled heavily upon me. I had crossed a line from which there was no return—a life was gone, and I had watched it fade away, without doing anything, irrevocably altering the course of my own.

With a heavy heart, I clenched the artifact in my fist, feeling its weight as I thrust it into my left wrist. Darkness engulfed me, and I felt a sense of resignation as I accepted whatever fate awaited me. When the artifact pressed against my skin, an alien sensation surged through me. My veins pulsed with an otherworldly energy, transforming not just my fate, but my very being. A blue hue bled into my veins, hinting at a profound change within.

Suddenly, a System message materialized before my eyes, glowing ominously in the dim light:

"Congratulations! You have achieved a 2% Shaded status. Note that if you do not complete the tasks assigned to you in a timely manner, your Shaded percentage will continue to increase. Good luck with that!"