The priest's voice resonated through the church as names were called, and children, including myself, gravitated toward the center. Despite the sizable gathering of over fifty kids, the church's expanse absorbed us without feeling crowded.

The stained glass overhead portrayed the moon's various phases, its central image adorned with a peculiar symbol – a moon encircled by undulating waves. Two eyes, one larger beneath and the other smaller above, peered down at us. It created an eerie sensation of being watched, and I couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable.

The entire interior of the structure exuded a distinctly Gothic ambiance. Despite the midday illumination outside, the atmosphere within seemed cloaked in the darkness of night. Even the light filtering through stained glass imparted a somewhat lunar quality. Weird.

As the priest delved into the ceremony's mechanics, he pointed to the crystal ball with strange patterns that was bought earlier.

It was a relic. Crafted by the first saint, it served as a catalyst for gauging our elemental attunement, mana control, and mana regeneration levels.

"Attunement level," the priest elucidated, "determines the potency of spells and the mana consumption of a single incantation. The higher your attunement, the mightier your spells. For instance, a fire mage's [fireball] spell grows in size with increased mana infusion."

Basically, higher the attunement level = bigger the fireballs.

I pondered the inverse relationship between attunement level and mana consumption. Could a higher attunement level indeed result in more efficient spellcasting, requiring less mana for the same effect? The gears turned in my mind, something to experiment.

"Mana control," the priest continued, drawing my attention back to the present, "is the mastery of spell matrices, the finesse of weaving them together. Consider an Earth Mage employing [Earthen Weaving] to craft intricate patterns within a wall – only with exceptional mana control can such delicate craftsmanship be achieved."

Finally, the concept of mana regeneration was explained – not only the rate at which mana replenished but also its role in sustaining spellcasting endeavors.

It all seemed straightforward to me, a familiar terrain explored in my pre-ceremony magical studies. However, the bewildered expressions on some of my peers' faces hinted at a gap in their magical education. After all, we were merely ten, and I realized my obsession with magic might have made me the odd one out.

"To summarize," the priest concluded, "attunement level for spell potency, mana control for precision, mana itself as your reservoir, and mana regeneration for sustaining it all."

"Now, let us delve into the topic of elements. The Elements are categorized into four pairs, each pair standing as equal and opposite to the other. They are: Fire and Water; Earth and Wind; Light and Dark; Nature and Metal. Additionally, there exist other elements referred to as deviant elements, with Thunder being an example. However, mastery of these deviant elements is reserved for higher-level mages, as they only manifest once your command of the base elements has reached a certain threshold."

Which was true, but not entirely. I knew the overall concept of these elements already. In the original novel, the protagonist got the Thunder attunement as a reward for completing a trial.

Every text had I read clearly preached, "Thou shalt only wield thunder if thou art already a fire aficionado." Yet, the protagonist, bless her Nature-attuned heart, never even glanced in Fire's direction before wielding the Thunder mana.

Which concluded that there were facts that this world was still unaware of.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

"Now that we have concluded the fundamental introduction to magic, it is time for the commencement of the ceremony. I shall announce each of your names in a prearranged sequence. When your name is called, please step forward and place your hand on this crystal."

Just like that, the priest began. Calling out names one by one. If it glowed, the gift of mana was theirs; if not, they were relegated to the realm of the mundane.

Names echoed through the space, and with each call, a silent tension gripped the crowd. Disappointment etched the faces of those whose connection with the crystal remained elusive. I could almost taste the bitter flavor of dashed hopes as the crystal's glow eluded some.

The first triumphant response resonated through the church as a boy's touch ignited a vibrant green glow. I could feel it. Taste it on my buds. The aspect of the untamed. The organic. The ever evolving.

The Nature.

The cycles. Of growth. Of decay. Of rebirth.

It was a fleeting moment of wonder that vanished as quickly as it had arrived. I just noticed that the crowd was boisterous with cheers. Did they not notice that? While I was still grappling with it, the priest’s voice echoed through the church.

“Nature Attunement level 4. Mana Control level 5. Mana Regeneration level 2. Mana Capacity level 7.”

“O Moonweaver, the guardian of the night, we gather beneath your gaze to celebrate a blessed child touched by the embrace of your sister, Verdantia. Grace his heart with your sacred serenity.”

As the priest closed his eyes with a symbolic gesture, the crowd followed suit. I prepared to join the collective moment of reverence, but an inexplicable sensation disrupted my focus. Goosebumps crawled across my skin, and an eerie feeling of being watched enveloped me once more.

My gaze involuntarily sought out the moon symbol in the stained glass, its eyes still fixed upon me. Confusion gripped me like a spectral hand.

It was a reality check: Gods in this world were more legit than my Sundrop Sitrus addiction. They were tangible, influential entities. They observed, communicated, and were probably rating my performance like a deity version of Yelp.

I too closed my eyes and muttered a quick prayer to the Goddess Moonweaver. "Umm, hey Goddess, it's Eli. Haven't missed a prayer, but if I did, blame the snooze button. Are we cool or are you about to smite me for being on Team Wandering Comet?"

As the ceremony continued, my prayer to the Moonweaver remained unanswered. No smiting happened, so I was thankful.

Then, the spotlight swung my way. Oh boy, the nerves were hitting like a surprise pop quiz. I knew I was already a mage, but the audience made my stomach do somersaults. Plus, there was the burning curiosity about my exact magical stat distribution – the nerdiest kind of anticipation.

Glancing back, I deciphered the emotional rollercoaster on my family's faces. Father was in the nervous dad club, Daniel gave the thumbs up like we were about to embark on some sort of adventure, Fiona and Stepmother sported their classic stoic expressions, and Richard, oh Richard, he wore the look of someone who had a personal vendetta against the entire world. Fair, considering the two medium-charged [fatigue hex] spells I'd already sneakily cast on him.

“Please place your hand on the crystal, young lady,” The priest instructed.

I took a deep breath. Here goes nothing. And placed my hand on the crystal.

Placing my hand on the crystal, I expected warmth, but it greeted me with an unexpected chill.

For a heartbeat, nothing transpired. I wondered if the crystal had taken a nap or decided to play hooky. And then it hit me – or rather, everything else vanished. The world around me, with its sounds and echoes, dissipated like mist in the morning sun.

I felt it. The embodiment of the space between the stars. The depth of the night sky. The secret sanctuary of dreams.

The unseen. The subconscious. The unexplored.

The Darkness.

The crystal before me remained the sole beacon of light, but instead of plunging into darkness as expected, it crackled with crimson lightning. It was different from the darkness.

It was a symbol. Of relentless pursuit. Of the thrill of the chase.

The swift, calculated movements of a predator. The cautious steps of the prey.

The primal instincts. To seek. To track. To kill.

In that moment, I sensed that darkness was merely a façade, a veil concealing my truer self. Its name danced tantalizingly on the tip of my tongue, but before I could grasp its essence, a shift occurred.

A wave of serenity enveloped me, washing away every emotion and leaving behind a tranquil emptiness. I was no longer alone; something greater and infinitely more powerful than me existed within this darkness. Above me, a moon materialized. It had two eyes. Open and fixated on me with unwavering focus.

A chuckle, melodious and ethereal, reverberated through the darkness.

Ahh, a Saintess of The Hunt. How very amusing...