OmniClass Awakener: Rebirth to Power

Chapter 28: Winds of Awakening

Chirp! Chirp!

The melodic call of birds echoed across the awakening skies as dawn broke over Volaris City. Golden hues spilled like molten sunlight across rooftops, painting the misty skyline in shimmering warmth. A tranquil fog clung to the edges of buildings, softening their sharp lines, while drifting clouds made way for morning’s gentle embrace.

At the easternmost edge of the city—where the rising sprawl kissed the foot of the northern hills—stood a grand estate. Secluded yet sprawling, it pulsed with early morning life. This was not just a place of comfort; it was a bastion of prestige and power—where tradition whispered through the old stones and progress hummed beneath glowing sigils.

The estate was alive.

Mana-powered vehicles glided silently through arcane-etched gates, their frames sleek and silent. Scholars in rune-stitched robes passed armored sentinels on cobblestone paths, flanked by peach trees in full bloom and ancient oaks humming softly with ambient energy. The scent of morning dew mingled with drifting traces of elemental mana, perfuming the air with something both ancient and alive.

At the heart of this sanctuary, a wide training field buzzed with motion and purpose. Youths in enchanted attire sparred, meditated, and mastered their gifts under the watchful eyes of seasoned instructors. Animated constructs danced in drills, and floating crystals pulsed with lessons waiting to be learned.

Here, power was shaped.

Mana cracked through the air—light, flame, water, wind, and stone bursting in vibrant arcs. A girl danced within a cyclone of ice-blades; a boy struck the earth and sent a jagged shockwave through a stone dummy. This was no idle training ground. This was the forge where the next generation of elite Awakeners was born.

And at the heart of it all, beyond pristine gardens and softly whispering manafalls, stood the estate's soul.

The Ling Family Main Manor.

Crafted from blacksteel stone and arcane glass, its silhouette rose like a monument to history. Carved eaves shaped like wings reached toward the sky, adorned with shimmering lanterns that never dimmed. Ancient wards pulsed softly on its walls, whispering of legends past.

The Ling Family—one of the Five Great Houses of the Eastward Federation—called this place home. With a legacy of elemental mastery, battlefield dominance, and mercantile brilliance, the name Ling echoed across the continent like thunder. Whether spellforging or politics, they were a force no one dared ignore.

And within this ancestral stronghold… something stirred.

The mana wards pulsed, faint as a heartbeat.

And deep inside the manor’s heart, behind enchanted doors and sigil-locked chambers, a moment unfolded—one that might ripple far beyond these ancient walls.

---

In a quiet wing of the manor, where morning bustle had not yet reached, a young girl sat cross-legged upon a woven mana mat. Light filtered through enchanted glass above, casting colorful fractals across the polished floor.

She was Sixteen. Delicate. Focused.

Her raven-black hair spilled down her back like flowing ink, glimmering with reflected mana motes. She wore training robes of soft jade, threaded with wind-attuned runes that shimmered ever so slightly—despite the stillness of the room.

A golden stone crystal pulsed gently in her palms.

Mana swirled softly around her as she breathed in rhythm with the stone, its heat growing beneath her touch.

Crack!

The sound sliced through the silence like fate snapping into place.

The crystal fractured, glowing fissures spreading like spiderwebs before it shattered into golden dust—hovering a moment, then vanishing into the air.

Her emerald eyes snapped open, gleaming with intensity.

Mana surged.

A sudden whirlwind burst forth, flinging scrolls and lamps into the air. Windows rattled. A mana lamp shattered.

Yet she was unmoved.

A slow, victorious grin curved her lips.

“Haha! Finally!” she laughed, voice light but fierce. “Level 20… I’m a Magic Adept now!”

She rose to her feet, excitement vibrating in her every step.

“Advanced spells… real techniques…” Her eyes gleamed. “Soon I’ll be strong enough to protect Brother Lei Feng from anyone who dares touch him!”

The doors swung open before her, as if responding to her determination.

Behind her, the room lay in shimmering chaos.

A short time later, two uniformed maids stepped inside. With well-practiced efficiency—and without a single sigh—they restored order. It wasn’t the first time Young Miss Ling Mei had caused a mana storm.

And likely not the last.

---

Tap… Tap… Tap…

Her footsteps echoed lightly through the corridor as Ling Mei made her way through the Arcane Wing. The hall shimmered with elegant enchantments; every tile beneath her feet cast faint runes with each step. Crystal chandeliers floated overhead like hovering stars.

Servants and stewards passed her with respectful bows.

“Good morning, Young Miss.”

“Congratulations on your breakthrough, Lady Ling.”

She responded with bright smiles and small nods, heart still fluttering with joy.

Finally, she arrived before a massive set of double doors inlaid with floating sigils.

Beep—

The arcane sensor above flickered to life, scanning her presence. A glowing red rune blinked, then shifted green.

With a gentle hiss, the doors parted.

She stepped into the Main Library of the Ling Family.

The scent of old parchment and layered magic drifted through the air. Tomes hovered mid-shelf. Scrolls pulsed faintly with preserved mana. Shelves towered high above her, shifting silently on floating mechanisms.

Behind a moonstone desk sat a woman dressed like a librarian, with gold-rimmed glasses, her gaze fixed on a book—her posture calm, her presence quietly commanding.

“Good morning, Madam Liana,” Ling Mei greeted with a bow.

The librarian gave a curt nod, not looking up from her book. She didn’t need to—everyone here knew who Ling Mei was.

But behind that librarian's quiet façade lay a fearsome reputation. Ling Liana, a Level 45 Hydromancer, was said to have undergone a rare Class Upgrade, elevating her command of water-based magic to legendary heights. Her role in the library was not just to preserve knowledge, but to guard it.

Ling Mei moved deeper, drawn to shelves labeled Wind Techniques – Intermediate Tier and Mana Manipulation – Phase Two. Her fingertips brushed worn leather bindings.

“Just a few days,” she whispered, “and I’ll be ready to see Brother Lei Feng again. Visit the wilderness for training… the Tournament… I’ll be ready.”

Tap!

A light touch on her shoulder made her jump.

“Ah!”

She spun—and stared.

A stunning woman stood before her, eyes glowing gold, emerald hair cascading like flowing vines. A radiant gold gown wrapped around her like starlight, ethereal yet powerful.

“S-Sister!”

Eira smiled—a calm, knowing curve of her lips.

“You’re jumpy,” she said.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack!” Ling Mei puffed.

“You should work on your spatial awareness,” Eira replied, teasing. “A wind mage should feel every shift in the air.”

Ling Mei pouted.

“Guess what?”

Eira tilted her head, amused. “What?”

“Level 20. I’m a Magic Adept now!”

A pause.

“…Took you long enough,” Eira said, deadpan.

Ling Mei deflated. “That’s it? No praise?”

“Do you want me to summon fireworks?” Eira smirked.

“…A little celebration wouldn’t hurt,” Ling Mei mumbled.

Eira chuckled. “Fine. Congratulations, little windstorm.”

A blush rose on Ling Mei’s cheeks.

They stood a moment in sisterly silence.

Then—

“You’re here for spell scrolls?” Eira asked.

Ling Mei nodded, serious again.

“Come,” Eira said, turning. Her gown shimmered as she walked, power hidden behind grace. “I’ll show you something fitting for your wind affinity.”

As they walked side by side between towering shelves, a quiet resolve settled over Ling Mei.

She had taken her first step into the next tier of her journey.

But beyond the sanctuary of stones and scrolls, distant storms were gathering—silent, unseen, and inexorable.

Though Ling Mei was determined, burning with hope and power, the winds of fate were already shifting.

Somewhere beyond her reach… her destiny was being planned.