SSS-Rank Card Summoner:

Four days. Four whole days in this shithole.

Haise dragged the wooden sword through the dirt as he walked to the training yard, his arms sore, his legs worse. The damn thing didn't feel like some heavy lump in his hands anymore, it was starting to feel like a real weapon, or at least something that could eventually pass for one.

Karsen met him near the center of the yard, waving lazily like they weren't about to spend the next hour beating Haise's muscles into pudding.

"Ready to get smacked around again?" Karsen grinned, his eyes sharp despite his bored tone.

"Just you wait," Haise muttered, gripping the sword tighter. "I'll hit you one of these days."

Karsen snorted, tossing his blade from hand to hand. "Sure, sure. Maybe in a hundred years."

They settled into their usual rhythm, trading swings, Karsen correcting Haise's form with loud, smug commentary.

Haise was mid-step when the sound of boots scraping against the dirt pulled his attention. Arno approached, waving Karsen off with a small gesture.

"I need a moment with him," Arno said, voice short, but not unkind.

Karsen shrugged. "He's all yours."

Haise let his sword drop to his side, wiping sweat from his brow. Arno didn't say much, just jerked his head toward the barracks and started walking.

The building was quieter than he expected. Everyone else was still outside, the usual sounds of clashing wood and grunted curses echoing through the yard.

Arno stopped near the back of the room, glancing over his shoulder.

"Do you know anything about magic?"

Haise blinked. The question didn't really land the way it should have. Magic? Well, it made sense, right? Swords, old-fashioned camps, people in leather and stone walls, this had to be one of those worlds where magic was a thing.

"I think it… sounds familiar?" Haise rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm not sure. It's like hearing a word I should know, but can't place."

Arno didn't seem too surprised. "Doesn't matter. It's simple enough. Won't take long to explain."

Arno folded his arms. "First, we need to find your Mark."

Haise frowned. "Mark?"

"Your gateway. It's the link between the mana inside you and the outside world. Every human's got one. It also decides your specialty."

"Wait, so… anyone can use magic?"

"Yeah," Arno said, as if it were obvious. "Not everyone's good at it, though. Some people can barely manage a spark, some can crack open mountains. Depends on the person. Depends on their Mark."

Arno stepped closer, eyeing Haise carefully. "Sometimes you can feel it. A weird sensation somewhere on your body. Anywhere you've noticed something off? Tension? Heat? Anything?"

Haise thought about it. His hands? No. His chest? Nothing. His back, wait.

When he'd changed clothes after that first day, there'd been nothing visible in the mirror. Still, something had felt strange, a dull weight between his shoulder blades. He hadn't really thought much of it.

He peeled his tunic off quickly and turned around, his skin prickling at the cool air brushing his spine. "Check my back."

Silence stretched behind him, longer than he liked.

"Well?" Haise asked, twisting slightly. "You see something?"

Arno's voice came slower, lower. "Yeah. Yeah, that's… definitely a Mark."

Haise craned his neck, but he could only make out a dark shape just out of view. "What's it look like?"

Arno stepped closer, and Haise could hear the slight scrape of his boot on the floor. "It's large. Not sure I've seen one this size before."

"Is that bad?"

"No clue." Arno's tone didn't shift much. "It's a solid black. Looks like… a playing card. Rectangle base, rough edges, corners almost chipped. In the center, there's a diamond shape cut open, like something's missing. The whole thing's cracked around the borders, like it's been dropped a few too many times."

Haise pulled his tunic back over his head. A card. A broken one. Somehow it didn't feel out of place.

"So… size doesn't matter?"

"Usually doesn't. Though yours is weird. Could mean something. Could mean nothing." Arno didn't sound worried. "Either way, you've got one, so we can move on."

He crossed the room, dragging a worn blackboard closer with one arm. He snapped up a crumbling piece of chalk and started scribbling.

"I'll make this quick, so pay attention." He scratched out the shape of a stick figure, circling the torso with rough lines. "Mana sits inside you, like coal in a furnace. It burns. Keeps you going. If you run out? You die."

Harsh.

Haise leaned against the wall, folding his arms. "Sounds fun."

"You'll be fine if you don't overdo it." Arno drew a jagged shape on the back of the stick figure. "The Mark is the exit. It's the door your mana passes through to reach the outside world. Everyone's is different. Some people's mana comes out hot, like fire. Others? Cold. Wind. Water. Sometimes it's weirder than that."

Haise raised his hand, half serious. "So, uh… can I shoot stuff from my back?"

Arno huffed, shaking his head. "Not really. The mana leaves your body from the Mark, sure, but you can shape it elsewhere. You don't have to fire from the exact spot."

He pointed at the little figure on the board again. "Say I wanted to make a magic missile. My Mark's on my foot. The mana would leave through my foot, travel through me, and I could still push it out from my hand. You just focus where you want it to gather. The exit's just where it flows out."

Haise rubbed his jaw. "So it's like… plumbing."

Arno stared at him for a long second. "Sure. Plumbing…."

Haise's head tilted. "So… I just focus on my hand, and the mana travels from my back to it?"

"Exactly."

"Alright." He scratched his neck. "I think I get it. Sort of."

Arno dropped the chalk, dusting his hands off. "Let's try something."

He pushed his hair aside, revealing a small mark etched onto his forehead, a sword, cracked right through the middle.

He held out his hand, palm up. A soft pulse of blue light flickered in the air above his skin, swirling lazily, no bigger than a marble.

"I'm not great at it," Arno admitted. "But I can get this far."

Haise's breath caught.

The system window hovered in front of him, just above Arno's head. He hadn't called it up. It simply appeared.

Potential: B

Strength: C

Ability Power: D

Speed: C

Combat Intelligence: B

Intelligence: C

Endurance: B

Mark: Sword Breaker

His eyes locked on the glowing letters. They pulsed faintly, waiting.

Arno's voice cut through his focus. "Hey. Something wrong?"

Haise blinked hard. The window vanished the second Arno's hand dropped back to his side, his hair falling back over the mark.

"Nah. I'm fine. Just tired." Haise's mouth felt dry. "Still getting used to the pace around here."

Arno's smirk returned, faint but familiar. "Best way to adjust is to jump back in. Go train with Karsen. The more you sweat now, the easier the rest will be."

"That's really your answer to being tired?"

Arno laughed softly, waving him off. "Always."

Haise stepped toward the door, his heartbeat still uneven.

Why had he seen that system window? Why could he see stats above his head? Was that normal? Was that part of his Mark? Or something else entirely?

Whatever it was, he wasn't about to tell Arno.