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In the kingdom of Dracoria, there were only two kinds of people—those who stood above others with power in their hands and beasts at their side, and those who served them in silence.
Every citizen, noble or commoner, waited for the day they would touch the Awakening Stone and discover their path. From the elite Dragonbound Knights who rode fire-breathing leviathans, to humble hawk-tamers who guarded the skies, this was a land ruled by beast tamers. Those with high-ranking skills became legends. Those with low ones? Forgotten.
Zephyr Valorian, a slim, dark-haired fifteen-year-old with storm-gray eyes and calloused palms from laboring in his family's dry crop fields, stood at the end of the line outside the Awakening Hall in Brightmoor. He was the last of his age group to awaken, a coincidence or curse he hadn't decided yet. All he knew was that today, everything would change. One way or another.
Brightmoor was a minor town in the far-east territories. It had no noble families, no elite training academies. Just weatherworn houses, dusty roads, and farmers who grew herbs for beast feed. Zephyr's own family barely made enough coin to survive, scraping by from harvest to harvest. But he had always dreamed of more. Of leaving Brightmoor. Of touching the skies on the back of a dragon, or taming a beast strong enough to shake the land.
He didn't want to be a nobody.
"Zephyr! Zephyr!"
He blinked, turning toward the voice. It was Fenna, his childhood friend. She pushed through the crowd of villagers, her ponytail bouncing, worry in her hazel eyes.
"You're up next. Don't keep the council waiting."
Zephyr swallowed, nodding. "Yeah. Just... catching my breath."
Fenna gave a small smile and took his hand briefly. "Whatever happens... I believe in you."
That meant something. Especially coming from her.
The old wooden doors of the Awakening Hall creaked open, and a thin man in ceremonial white robes beckoned him inside. Zephyr walked forward slowly, feet heavy, heartbeat louder than the gasps and mutters following him.
Inside the hall, three council elders stood behind a glowing stone pedestal. The Awakening Stone pulsed with ancient magic—shimmering blue veins in jagged black marble. When touched, it judged a person's affinity, their connection to the wild mana of the world, and manifested their skill and starting beast bond.
"Zephyr Valorian," the high elder intoned, voice echoing. "You may approach."
The room dimmed. The villagers stood around the perimeter in silence, watching.
Zephyr stepped up. His palms were sweating. His whole body felt light, detached, like he was floating just outside himself. He took a breath, and placed both hands on the stone.
At first, nothing.
Then—warmth.
It started in his fingertips and crept up his arms. He felt the stone probing him, reading his soul. The light pulsed once… then again… but it didn't blaze gold or silver like the ones before him. It didn't roar or spark. It simply… dimmed.
A dull brown glow spread across the stone.
Gasps erupted. Someone snorted.
The elder stepped forward, frowning.
"Rank: F," he announced.
"Skill: Beast Feed Cultivation."
Silence. Then laughter.
[F-RANK SKILL: Beast Feed Cultivation – Grants mild enhancements to soil and plants related to beast nourishment. Cannot be used in combat. Considered a non-combatant utility skill.]
[AFFINITY BEAST: None. Due to low compatibility, the Awakening did not bond Zephyr to a starting beast.]
Zephyr stared at the stone, his breath catching in his throat.
"Wait... that's it?" he whispered.
"I'm afraid so," the elder said with tired pity. "The stone has judged."
More laughter. A boy behind him whispered, "He's a beast farmer. Hah! What's next? Cleaning stable shit?"
Zephyr turned away, eyes burning. He could feel the weight of everyone's judgment pressing down on him like a mountain. His parents stood at the edge of the crowd, faces pale, his father's hands clenched at his sides.
Outside, the sky had turned gray. Rain fell slowly over Brightmoor as Zephyr walked down the stone steps, ignoring the sneers and whispers. Fenna tried to reach him, but he didn't stop. He didn't speak.
He walked until he was out of the village, past the mossy stone walls and into the wheat fields, where golden stalks rustled in the wind.
He dropped to his knees in the mud.
A beast feed farmer.
That's what the world thought of him.
Not a knight. Not a summoner. Not even a falconer or a scout.
Just… the lowest of the low.
He punched the earth with his bare fists, once, twice. Then again. The pain made him feel real.
"Why?" he whispered. "Why me?"
There was no answer. Only the wind.
And yet, deep inside, a part of him refused to break. He had to believe there was something more.
Even if no one else saw it.
Two weeks passed.
Brightmoor moved on.
The rest of his classmates trained in beast camps outside town, preparing for the capital's entrance exams. Zephyr worked alone in his family's fields, his new skill causing the crops to grow just slightly faster, just slightly stronger. He said nothing. He smiled less.
Fenna still visited, bringing him small lunches, encouraging words, but even she couldn't mend the weight he carried.
And then came the strangers.
Three of them. Cloaked. Unfamiliar.
They arrived on horseback and requested lodging at the inn. Rumor had it they were from the capital, searching for signs of rare awakenings. One bore a silver badge with a coiled serpent crest—a sign of the Royal Beast Tamer's Guild.
Zephyr didn't care.
Until one evening, they spoke with his parents.
And everything changed.
"Zephyr, come inside," his father called.
It was nearly midnight. Zephyr had been sitting beneath the willow tree behind their house, watching fireflies drift over the pond.
He entered the house and froze.
The cloaked strangers stood in the kitchen, faces now visible.
One was a tall woman with short white hair and piercing eyes. The leader.
[NAME: Lady Alira Ves] [RANK: S-Rank Beast Tamer – Expert in tracking rare affinities and dormant awakenings. Member of the Royal Beast Tamer's Guild. Known for discovering two S-rank tamers in the past decade.]
"Zephyr," she said calmly. "We need to talk."
"…About what?"
"About your awakening."
Zephyr blinked. "I thought there's nothing to talk about. The stone said—"
"The stone is not infallible," Alira interrupted. "It is ancient. Powerful, yes. But limited. It reads surface potential. It cannot always see buried bloodlines or sealed abilities."
Zephyr's heart skipped.
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying you might not be what everyone thinks you are."
She stepped forward and pulled out a small obsidian pendant with a red gem in its center.
"This is a relic used by the guild to detect dormant bloodlines. Touch it."
Zephyr hesitated, then reached out.
The moment his fingers brushed the gem, the stone glowed. Not brown. Not dull.
But red.
Deep, burning red.
Alira narrowed her eyes.
"…Interesting."
"What does that mean?" he asked, voice shaky.
"It means something is hidden inside you. Something powerful. But it's sealed. Suppressed. Possibly by blood magic."
Zephyr stared at her. "…So I'm not an F-rank?"
"You are now," she replied. "But that's not your true rank."
She stepped back, tucking the pendant away.
"We'll be watching you, Zephyr Valorian. For now, stay alive. Train. Learn. Survive."
Then she turned and left, her cloak vanishing into the night wind.
Zephyr stood there for a long time, heart pounding.
Something… was inside him.
Something hidden.
And the world had no idea.