Dragon Dominion System

Rynkar was thirteen, chopping wood in the yard with a small axe Toren had made for him. Mara sat nearby, mending a shirt, while Lila, now sixteen, kicked a ball against the house wall. The village was quiet, surrounded by fields and the wild forest beyond. Rynkar swung the axe, feeling stronger every day—he'd been helping Toren more, carrying logs and learning how to swing right. He'd always known about mana—everyone did. It was in the air, in the ground, everywhere, and people soaked it up without even trying. Toren and Mara had explained it years ago, back when he was little.

"Mana's all around," Toren had said one night by the fire, sharpening his axe. "You breathe it in, soak it up through your skin—can't help it. But how much you take, how fast, that's different for everyone." Mara nodded, her hands glowing faintly as she showed her light magic. "Some soak it up quick, some slow. If your body gets enough by thirteen or fifteen, you can use it—magic or strength. If not, it's too late." Rynkar had listened, wide-eyed. Most people didn't get enough—mana stayed weak in them, useless. But some, like Mara and Toren, crossed that line and woke it up.

There were two kinds of people who used mana: mages and warriors. Mara explained that too. "Mages pull mana out," she said, letting a small orb of light float from her hand. "They're weak at using it inside their bodies, but good at pushing it out—spells, tricks, stuff like that." Toren chuckled, swinging his axe lightly. "Warriors are the opposite. We keep it in—makes us strong, fast, tough. Can't throw it out worth a damn, though." Rynkar nodded—he'd seen it. Mara's light healed cuts, Toren's axe hit harder than it should. Most people were bad at both, but a few got good at one. And then, once in a blue moon, someone was good at both—super rare, like the legends who split seas or crushed mountains.

Rynkar knew how it worked by now. Everyone soaked up mana, but how much depended on luck and a bit of family blood—though even that wasn't a sure thing. What kind you could use—elements like fire, water, light, or just raw strength—came down to chance too. Mara's light magic was rare but weak—she'd woken it young, but never got far. Toren's strength was solid, but he couldn't push mana out like a mage. Rynkar wondered what he'd get. He was thirteen now—old enough for his body to show something if it was going to. He felt stronger, but nothing special yet.

That afternoon, Lila changed everything. She was kicking her ball harder than usual, grinning as it bounced off the wall. Then she tripped, falling flat on her face. "Ow!" she yelled, sitting up with a scraped knee. Mara started over, but Lila waved her off. "I got it," she said, frowning at the cut. She took a deep breath, and suddenly her hand glowed—not like Mara's soft light, but a sharp, bright flash. The scrape vanished, healed in a blink. Rynkar dropped his axe, staring. "Lila?" he said. Mara froze, her eyes wide. Toren stepped out from the shed, axe in hand. "What was that?" he asked.

Lila blinked, looking at her hands. "I… I don't know," she said. "It just happened." Mara knelt beside her, grabbing her wrist. "Try it again," she said, her voice shaky. Lila focused, and the glow came back—bright and steady. Mara's mouth dropped open. "That's not just healing," she said. "It's strong—too strong for me." Toren swung his axe into a log, testing something, then looked at Lila. "Hit me," he said, holding out his arm. Lila hesitated, then tapped him—her hand sparked, and Toren flinched. "Ow! That's no mage trick—that's power!" he said, rubbing his arm.

Rynkar watched, his stomach twisting. Lila wasn't just a mage—she was strong too. Mara sat back, stunned. "Both," she whispered. "She's got both—mage and warrior mana. That's… that's so rare." Toren grinned, proud. "Knew my girl had it in her," he said, ruffling Lila's hair. Lila laughed, flexing her hands. "I'm awesome!" she said, jumping up. Rynkar forced a smile, but inside, he felt a pang—not mean, not angry, just… jealous. Lila had woken up something big, something he hadn't yet. She was one of those rare ones, like the legends he'd heard about.

The village had a few mana users—Gav with his weak fire sparks, Serna swinging her spear with a bit of extra punch—but none like Lila. Out there, beyond the forest, were the real ones: mages who could burn mountains with a spell, warriors who split rivers with a swing. Rynkar had grown up knowing about them, dreaming of them. Now Lila was stepping into that world, and he wasn't sure where he stood. "Good for you," he said to her, picking up his axe again. She grinned. "You'll get something too, Ryn! Maybe fire or something cool!" He nodded, but he didn't feel sure.

That night, Rynkar sat by the fire, watching Toren sharpen his axe. "Think I'll wake up?" he asked quietly. Toren glanced at him. "Maybe. You're strong for your age—could be a warrior like me. Or maybe a mage like your mom. Could be nothing too. It's luck, kid." Mara sat beside him, her hands glowing faintly. "Doesn't matter," she said. "You're ours either way." Rynkar stared at the flames. He wasn't mad at Lila—she was his sister, and she was great. But he wanted it too—a spark, a sign, something to show he could be more in this wild, mana-filled world.