Elijah could barely sit still in his next class.
His mind raced as he tapped his fingers against the smooth desk surface, occasionally glancing down to watch his fingertips press into the wood. No stickiness. No sparks. No visible manifestation of power. But the way those papers clung to his hand earlier—it had felt real. For the first time in his life, he thought he might've finally brushed against the world of the Awakened.
Even a trash ability would be better than nothing, he thought, fidgeting in his seat. Trash abilities can still be cultivated to the lower levels—strength, speed, maybe a small mental boost. It's a foot in the door.
Without an ability, his future would be bleak—a second-class citizen in a world where power determined everything. He tried to act indifferent most days, to wear a mask of casual acceptance, but deep inside he knew that failure to awaken would be a slow death sentence. No opportunities, no family legacy, no future. His father could only shield him from that truth for so long.
But now… maybe there's hope.
Mr. Isaac droned on at the front of the room, his voice steady as ever, but Elijah struggled to focus. He kept glancing at his hands again, trying to will something—anything—to happen.
"Maybe it was a fluke," Elijah muttered under his breath. "Or maybe I'm just doing something wrong…"
With a sigh, he forced himself to listen to the lecture. If nothing else, maybe something useful would slip out.
"…and as you can understand," Mr. Isaac was saying, gesturing to diagrams on the holo-board, "the way mana permeates the atmosphere isn't entirely natural to us Hyumans. Even after generations of selective breeding to make better use of its mystical energy, we still struggle to extract every drop."
The diagrams shifted, showing a crude representation of a mana-infused humanoid, streams of glowing energy cycling around their core.
"Take the Emperor, for example. As one of the rare Demigod-tier Awakened, his attunement to mana is so profound that his very body is sustained by the ambient flow. Food, sleep, even breathing are largely optional. His body feeds on pure mana."
That part always fascinated Elijah—the distant peak of what Hyumans could become. But for him, that goal seemed more distant than ever.
"Of course," Mr. Isaac continued, "the same power that sustains the strong can kill the weak. Small children, particularly the unawakened, are highly susceptible to mana poisoning. Exposure to dense concentrations—battlefields, natural mana wells—can overload an undeveloped body. At best, severe illness. At worst… well, I'll spare you the details."
The teacher chuckled to himself at his own morbidity, but Elijah was only half-listening. His thoughts circled back to the possibilities, his earlier hope mixing with fear.
Finally, unable to hold back, Elijah raised his hand.
Mr. Isaac blinked in mild surprise. Elijah wasn't usually one to volunteer. "Yes, Elijah?"
He hesitated, then asked, "I was wondering… how does attunement to mana relate to ability awakening? Specifically during puberty?"
A few students turned their heads. Not because the question was strange, but because Elijah was the one asking it. Normally, he tried to keep a low profile to avoid drawing attention—especially from people like Claro.
Mr. Isaac gave him a thoughtful nod. "Good question. An excellent one, actually. While not today's primary topic, it's certainly related."
He paused, shifting the display to a genetic chart showing overlapping spirals of DNA infused with tiny streams of mana.
"As we age, mana in the atmosphere slowly interacts with our bodies. It seeps into our biology, changing us on a fundamental level. This process, combined with genetic predispositions, triggers the awakening of one's unique ability during puberty—a natural window of rapid change where the body can adapt to the foreign energy."
Several classmates were actually paying attention now. Even Tim raised an eyebrow beside Elijah.
"Abilities often reflect bloodlines," Isaac continued. "But while families share certain traits, no two awakenings are entirely identical. That's the beauty and cruelty of it—it's both inheritance and lottery."
Elijah nodded slowly. He already knew most of that, but it wasn't the part he needed answered.
He hesitated again, then pushed his luck. "So… does that mean it always happens on its own? People awaken naturally, or they don't?"
Mr. Isaac paused for a moment, studying Elijah carefully now. He could see where this was going.
"In the overwhelming majority of cases, yes. It's passive. Either your body absorbs enough mana to mutate the necessary sequences, or it doesn't." His tone grew more serious. "However… there are exceptions."
The room grew quieter.
"In very rare cases, individuals who are on the brink of awakening—but who've failed to absorb sufficient mana naturally—have been able to trigger awakening by exposing themselves to abnormally dense mana fields while focusing intensely. It's believed their bodies were close, but lacked just enough mana to fully complete the internal transformation. The external stimulus allows the final mutation to occur."
Several students were wide-eyed now. Elijah felt his pulse quicken. So it might be possible…
"But," Mr. Isaac added sharply, his voice hardening, "it is extremely dangerous. The failure rate is near absolute. Less than one-tenth of one percent survive the attempt. Most experience catastrophic mana poisoning—severe organ failure, seizures, or, in extreme cases, total cellular collapse. In short: death."
He glanced directly at Elijah now. "If you're considering it… I advise against it."
Elijah swallowed hard but managed a small nod. "Of course, sir. I was just curious."
Isaac sighed. "Forgive me if I've said too much. It's an area of personal research. But in any case, that brings us to the end of today's lecture."
He quickly assigned a short reading for homework, dismissing the class.
As students filed out, Elijah lingered for a moment, lost in thought.
"So…" he whispered to himself, "that's what I've been missing. Maybe it wasn't a fluke after all. Maybe I am close, but my body never absorbed enough mana growing up. Maybe I can finish the process…"
His mind raced. But where can I find a source strong enough to push me over the edge? And… is it worth the risk?
"Elijah!"
Tim's voice broke his train of thought. "You okay, man? You looked like you were about to start hyperventilating."
Elijah forced a weak smile. "I'm fine. Just… thinking about stuff."
"You? Thinking? That's dangerous," Tim joked, nudging him playfully as they exited the classroom.
As they walked down the hall, a familiar sneer cut through the crowd.
"Careful, Eneri. Wouldn't want to strain your little powerless brain."
Claro Nova stood near the stairwell, arms crossed, a few of his sycophants laughing behind him. Tiny shards of crystal shimmered along his fingertips like elegant claws—a casual flex of his awakened ability.
Elijah clenched his teeth but kept walking.
Tim glanced sideways and whispered, "Don't worry about that rock-headed bastard. You'll awaken soon enough."
"Yeah," Elijah murmured, gripping his backpack tighter. "I hope so.
Elijah went through the rest of the day in a blur, barely even paying attention to his classes.
Even when Claro tried to pick on him at the end of the school day he hardly heard a word he said.
The sun dipped low by the time Elijah finally made it home. The hover-bus hissed as its doors slid open, depositing him onto the familiar worn path leading to the small two-story house on the outskirts of New Haven's residential district.
The neighborhood was quieter here. No neon signs, no floating billboards, no towering corporate complexes. Just modest homes built during an earlier generation, before mana-infused architecture turned cities into glittering spires. The air even felt different—less saturated with mana, less oppressive.
Maybe that was why his father chose to live here.
The door slid open with a soft mechanical click as Elijah approached, his wristband syncing with the security lock. The familiar scent of ozone and solder greeted him as he stepped inside.
Sitting at the kitchen table surrounded by scattered data pads and glowing holo-screens was his father—Marcus Eneri.
"You're late," Marcus said without looking up from his work, his fingers deftly navigating floating graphs of fluctuating ion fields. The glowing lines danced in the air like constellations.
"Yeah…sorry. Got held up at school."
At that, Marcus finally looked up, his sharp grey eyes briefly studying his son. As always, there was no visible judgment in his gaze—just quiet calculation.
"Nothing serious, I hope?" he asked, his voice smooth, controlled. Marcus always spoke like a man accustomed to handling volatile systems — whether those systems were mana reactors or his son's fragile teenage emotions.
Elijah shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. "Just Claro being Claro."
Marcus allowed himself a brief sigh and leaned back in his chair. "That boy's father has too much money and too little wisdom. But you're not there to measure yourself against fools."
"I know," Elijah replied quietly, lowering his backpack to the floor. His fingers absentmindedly brushed against the straps as a nervous energy stirred inside him. "Um… Dad? Can I ask you something?"
Marcus raised an eyebrow, folding his hands on the table. "You may."
Elijah hesitated. "Do you…think I'll ever awaken?"
The question hung heavy between them.
Marcus's eyes softened for a moment. "That's what's been bothering you lately," he said, more a statement than a question. "You've been dancing around it for months. I was waiting to see when you'd finally voice it."
Elijah's cheeks flushed, part embarrassment, part frustration. "Everyone else already has abilities. Tim, Claro, even some of the younger kids are starting to awaken. And me? Nothing. It's like my body just… isn't listening."
Marcus exhaled slowly, his gaze briefly drifting to the humming ion stabilizer installed near the far wall—a piece of tech he'd built himself. Then his eyes returned to Elijah.
"You know I don't like making promises I can't guarantee, son. But listen carefully. Awakening isn't always simple. It isn't a test with clear rules. For some, it's as natural as breathing. For others…" He paused, choosing his words carefully. "For others, it requires… pressure."
"Pressure?" Elijah echoed.
Marcus stood and crossed the room, retrieving a small metal sphere from one of his workbenches—a diagnostic tool for mana resonance fields. He held it out for Elijah to see.
"This sphere stabilizes energy by maintaining precise pressure between charged particles. If the pressure is too low, nothing happens. If it's too high…" He squeezed gently, and the sphere flared briefly with unstable light before returning to normal. "The system destabilizes, collapses."
He set the sphere down. "The same is true for you. Your system may simply need… more of the right kind of pressure."
Elijah's eyes narrowed. "You mean like… exposure to a high mana environment? Like Professor Isaac was talking about."
Marcus's gaze sharpened for a moment at the mention of the professor. "Isaac's lectures always did lean dangerously close to forbidden research," he muttered under his breath. Then louder: "Yes. In theory, increasing ambient mana might nudge an unstable core into formation. But as Isaac surely warned you, it is highly dangerous. The risks are… extreme."
Elijah bit his lip. "But the risk of doing nothing is worse, isn't it? If I fail to awaken, I'm nothing."
Marcus's jaw tightened, his usually composed face cracking for just a moment. "You are never nothing, Elijah."
"But—"
"I said never." His voice carried a firmness rarely heard. "This society has poisoned you into believing your value is tied only to power. But strength is not the same as worth."
Elijah's throat tightened. "That's easy for you to say. You've got a power. You've got a job. You can live wherever you want. I can't even apply for apprenticeships without an ability."
Marcus's expression grew pained but controlled. "And do you think my strength came easily? Do you believe I did not face my own… constraints?" He stepped closer, resting a hand gently on Elijah's shoulder. "The world demands power. But power without wisdom is a tyrant's tool."
Elijah looked down. "Then what am I supposed to do?"
Marcus sighed, rubbing his temples. "You're already thinking about doing it, aren't you?"
Elijah swallowed but said nothing.
"I thought so." Marcus stepped away from the table, as if debating with himself, before finally opening a concealed panel built into the wall behind his workbench. From within, he pulled a narrow metallic briefcase, marked only by a simple, etched lightning bolt.
He set it gently on the table and unlocked it with his thumbprint.
Inside was a sleek, compact device—a small harness rig with thin bands, emitters, and crystalline regulators integrated into its design.
Elijah blinked. "Is that…?"
Marcus nodded. "A mana field stabilizer. I designed it years ago—just in case you ever came to this point."
He sat down, voice low and calm. "You're smart, Elijah. Smarter than you realize. But desperation clouds judgment. If you're dead-set on seeking a high-density mana zone—and I know you are—I want you to have this."
Elijah stared. "How does it work?"
"It doesn't generate high mana density, son. I'd never trust you with that. But when you're in a naturally saturated environment—like a grotto or wild mana well—this will regulate the flow, prevent surges, and keep you from being overwhelmed immediately. You'll still be exposed to dangerous levels, but this way… your system won't shatter from instant overload."
"So it doesn't guarantee I'll succeed."
"No," Marcus said quietly, "it only increases your odds if you're close enough already. It won't fake a core that isn't ready. But it may give you the window you need, before the mana rips you apart."
Elijah hesitated, feeling the weight of the device in his hands. "You knew I was going to try, didn't you?"
Marcus allowed himself a faint, tired smile. "I know you, Elijah. And I know the world we live in."
There was a long pause, heavy with unspoken emotions.
Finally, Marcus added softly, "If you choose to attempt this… do it carefully. Don't rush. Don't take unnecessary risks. And… if you fail to awaken, you'll still be my son."
Elijah nodded, a mix of fear and gratitude swirling inside him. "Thank you, Dad. For trusting me."
"I'm not trusting you," Marcus said, standing up with a small smile. "I'm trusting the man you're becoming."