The next day, early in the morning, Rowen woke up at exactly 6:00 a.m.

He lay there for a moment, staring at the wooden ceiling of his small upstairs room. The faint Had the energy dropped even more?

Without hesitation, he turned from the shop door and climbed back up to his room again.

Back upstairs, Rowen stood in the center of his room.

"Fern," he called softly.

With a swirl of green light, the tiny sprite appeared mid-air, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded from sleep. His hair was messy, and he looked like he'd just been dragged out of bed.

Fern yawned loudly. "So early?"

Rowen gave him a look. "Open the portal. I need to check the land."

Fern floated lower, muttering something under his breath. "No respect for my sleep…"

His eyes flicked toward Rowen with a tired glare. "And I'm starving too, by the way."

But despite the complaints, he waved his hand lazily.

With a familiar shimmer, the glowing doorway formed once more, pulsing softly with green light.

Rowen stepped forward and placed his hand on the handle.

With a soft click, the portal opened.

He took a deep breath and stepped through.

As Rowen stepped into the familiar open field, a soft breeze brushed against his face. He walked toward the farm plot—and stopped.

The potato plants were fully mature.

Thick green stalks stood tall, and beneath them, fresh potatoes peeked through the soil. They were slightly bigger than the normal ones he used to buy in town.

Rowen crouched down and picked one up.

It felt dense and warm in his hand.

"What kind of potato is this?" he muttered aloud.

Fern floated up beside him and stretched. "You can analyze it, you know. Everything that grows in this land can be examined through your connection to the space."

"My connection?"

Fern pointed at the potato. "Just focus on it. Think about wanting to know more, and the space will respond."

Rowen raised an eyebrow but followed the instruction.

Rowen focused on the potato in his hand.

A faint green glow traced along its surface, and a small screen of light appeared before his eyes.

[Analyzing Item...]

Name: Potato

Type: Enhanced Crop

Grade: Common+

Effect: Slightly boosts physical/mana recovery when consumed.

Note: Due to the mana-rich soil, this potato contains traces of life energy. Best consumed fresh.

Rowen blinked. "It actually does something."

Fern nodded. "It's not much, but it's better than regular food. And it proves the land can produce enhanced crops."

Rowen looked down at the field again, more serious now. He would need to experiment to see what else this space could grow.

But this… this was a good start.

Rowen stared at the glowing analysis panel, then glanced back at the plump potato in his hand.

"If this helps with recovery," he muttered, "maybe… someone out there would pay for it."

He turned to Fern. "If I sell one of these… can I get a low-grade mana stone?"

Fern rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Possibly. In bulk, not much. But if you find the right buyer or make it into a cooked dish, its value could go up. People will pay more for something that can recover mana/energy, even a little."

Rowen's eyes sharpened. "So I just need to figure out how to present it. Not as a potato but as a product."

Rowen looked at Fern again. "How many low-grade mana stones do you need to fully recharge the land?"

Fern yawned, then held up six fingers lazily. "Six to fill the energy bar back to full. And… if you're thinking ahead, fifty to upgrade this barren land into proper low-level fertile land."

"Fifty?" Rowen blinked. "That's a lot."

Fern shrugged. "Better soil, faster growth, and more potential abilities unlocked. You want this place to be worth something, right? That's the cost."

Rowen sighed, eyes drifting back to the healthy potato in his hand.

Six stones just to keep things running.

Fifty to really start something.

"I'll find a way," he muttered.

Rowen crouched down and quickly counted the mature potatoes. Thirty in total.

He picked one up again, weighing it in his hand. The size, color, and that faint glow it wasn't an ordinary potato anymore.

"If I can trade three of these for one low-grade mana stone…" he muttered, doing the math in his head, "then thirty should get me ten stones."

Fern nodded, floating nearby. "Not bad for your first harvest."

Rowen smiled faintly. "Six stones to keep the land running. That leaves four to save."

"Smart," Fern said, stretching with a yawn. "Now you just need to find the right buyer."

Rowen looked down at the pile of potatoes.

He finally had something of value.

Rowen looked at the thirty glowing potatoes stacked neatly beside the field.

For the first time, he saw a different path, one that didn't involve becoming a knight or mage.

"Rowen."

His name echoes across the field.

He steps forward.

The line behind him shifts. He ignores the murmurs and fixes his eyes on the Awakening Device—a towering structure of obsidian stone and silver veins, humming with stored mana. Its faint glow reflects in his eyes.

Rowen walks toward it, hands cold despite the sun. His mind is blank—not with calm, but with the kind of fear that swallows thought.

He places his hand against the stone.

A subtle warmth trickles through his fingertips.

Then... nothing.

The device hums, as it always does, but no runes light up. No surge of energy. No mark of path or potential. Just the quiet, steady pulse of mana within the device—unchanged

Rowen's brow furrows. He presses harder. Tries to focus.

He feels something stir. Faint. Fuzzy. Like a thread brushing the edge of his mind.

But before he can grasp it—

"Step aside," the instructor says, tone clipped.

Rowen hesitates, hand still on the stone. "Wait, I—"

"You're done," the instructor cuts in.

He pulls his hand back slowly. His chest is tight.

He turns and walks away under the weight of a thousand eyes.

Whispers trail behind him.

"Failed?"

"No reaction?"

"Not even a glow?"

He sits back in the group, staring at his palm.

Unseen to him—far beneath the skin, past flesh and bone—a mote of mana pulses softly.

Awakened.

But unnoticed.

The last name is called. The final student steps back from the Awakening Device.

It powers down with a soft hum, the silver veins fading to dark.

A tall instructor steps forward—not a local teacher, but someone from the federal division. His uniform bears the crest of the central government. His presence alone silences the crowd.

He speaks, voice calm but firm. "To all students—the Awakening phase is now complete."

A pause. His eyes scan across the field, stopping nowhere in particular.

"Those of you who have awakened a Path—Mage, Knight, Tamer, or otherwise—congratulations. You've taken your first step. But understand this clearly: awakening is not enough."

He gestures toward the horizon. "In six months' time, you will face the Annual Examination. This includes written testing, a wilderness hunt, and direct competition. Your strength, control, decision-making, and survival instincts will be tested."

"Your scores will determine your ranking. The highest-ranked students will be eligible for selection by institutions like the Federal University and top-tier private academies. Opportunities that decide the course of your life."

Murmurs ripple through the crowd—half excitement, half fear.

The instructor continues, "As for those who did not awaken—don't despair. You still have time to grow. Focus on your written exams and prepare for the practical assessment. Every year, some who awaken late or perform exceptionally still earn spots in good academies. Discipline, theory, and strategy—these matter as much as raw power."

Rowen sits quietly, the instructor's words echoing inside him.

Rowen says nothing.

He stares at the device—cold and dim now.

A dull weight settles in his chest.

He didn't awaken.

And just like that, all the excitement he'd carried for years… faded.

He had no interest in examinations, in rankings, or in any of it.

Not anymore.

Students begin dispersing, talking in excited clusters—some celebrating, others comparing their newly awakened Paths. Laughter, shouts, tears… A mix of emotions swirls in the late afternoon air.

Rowen walks in silence.

Calen catches up to him. "Rowen… hey. Wait up."

Rowen doesn't stop. Calen matches his pace.

"I know how it feels," Calen says gently. "You gave everything for this."

Rowen exhales through his nose, not looking at him. "It wasn't enough."

"You don't know that," Calen replies. "Some awaken late. Some go unnoticed. Maybe it's—"

"I don't want maybes," Rowen cuts him off, voice sharp but not loud. "I didn't come here for sympathy."

There's an awkward pause.

Calen swallows. "I'm not trying to pity you. Just... maybe come by tonight? For dinner. Mom's making stew, and she always liked you. You don't have to talk. Just… sit and eat. Be there."

Rowen slows for a moment, then shakes his head.

"Thanks," he mutters. "But not tonight."

Calen doesn't argue.

He just gives a quiet nod. "Alright. But if you change your mind, you know where we live."

Rowen turns away and walks off—away from the other students, away from the fading light, away from it all.

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