"Status," Elijah said as he laid in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling of his dimly lit room.
Immediately, a faint chime echoed in his ears, and a glowing display projected itself into the air just above his eyes, visible only to him. The familiar system interface shimmered like a translucent screen hovering in space.
Elijah Eneri -
Type: Enhancer
Subtype: Physical Adhesion
Elemental Affinity: None
Combat Rating: F-Tier
Vitality: 2
Strength: 1
Dexterity: 2
Endurance: 1
Stat Total: 6/100
Skills: Sticky Fingers (F)
That was it. That was the entire summary of his newfound power—the grand awakening every teen in the federation dreamed of—and this was all it amounted to. No flashy affinity. No elemental resonance. No secret lineage awakening. Just an F-tier skill attached to a barely functional set of physical stats. Even an unawakened adult was estimated to have an average of 5 in each stat.
His eyes scanned the floating text again, as if willing it to change. No dice. He sighed, rubbing his face with both hands before letting his arms fall limply to his sides.
"One F-tier skill. Sticky Fingers. Even the name sounds like a joke," he muttered.
He turned onto his side and exhaled. His body still ached slightly from the testing process, but the emotional weight was far heavier. He'd waited so long to awaken—longer than most—and this was the result. A weak, barely-useful ability with stats that would get him laughed out of the room in any combat simulation. Not that anyone expected much from late bloomers anyway.
Still…
"At least I finally awakened. That's… something," he said aloud, trying to convince himself.
The system screen flickered slightly before vanishing with a soft ping, leaving him alone in the dark with his thoughts.
"I'll just have to learn to do what I can, however I can. Even if it's a trash ability, it's all in the user, right? Someone once said there's no such thing as a useless power—only useless people."
He paused, frowning at the ceiling again.
"Wait… that guy exploded himself during testing. Maybe not the best source of wisdom."
A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips despite himself. He pulled himself upright and looked at his palms, flexing his fingers slowly.
"Still, there's got to be something more to this ability. I need to understand how it works. The better I understand it, the better I can use it."
Speaking aloud helped him organize his thoughts. Always had. With his father working double shifts most days, there wasn't exactly anyone around to talk to. So Elijah had gotten used to filling the silence with his own voice. It was comforting, in a weird way.
"I think the examiner mentioned… Van Dur Well forces? Van… Der Waals? Something like that. Sounds pretty science-y," he murmured.
He tilted his head thoughtfully, staring at a corner of the room.
"I may have a lot of studying ahead of me if I ever want to figure this out. Maybe those force things they were talking about can do more than just stick. Or at least make the stickiness more consistent and powerful."
As he spoke, deep in his brain, a faint shimmer of light sparked within a tiny, undetected core. The pulse was small—too subtle to be registered by even the most sensitive scanners—but it reacted, feeding ever so slightly on Elijah's introspective energy. Unconsciously, he was already nudging the second half of his Awakening forward.
Unaware, Elijah shifted the topic.
"Okay, so I'm an Enhancer. That means the changes are internal—my physical body, muscles, reflexes. I should start training seriously. Figure out how mana flows through my body and affects it. I remember one of the teachers mentioning that understanding your internal changes is key."
He paused again and grinned suddenly.
"Wait… the cultivation classes! I'll finally get to go! No more sitting in the back of the room while everyone else trains. No more excuses. I'm officially part of the program now. Finally!"
He laughed—a short, joyous sound that echoed in his quiet room. Then his expression softened.
"I don't have to be useless anymore," he said quietly, lying back down. "I don't have to be nothing."
A memory floated to the surface. His father's voice, steady and warm.
"You are never nothing, Elijah. Never."
Elijah nodded to himself.
"That's right. I'm not worthless just because I have a low-tier power. No matter what, I'll find a way to carve out a place in this world. That's a promise."
He sat up again and extended his hands. A subtle shimmer ran along his palms—his power activating. He walked over to the wall and pressed his hands against it, focusing on the subtle magnetic-like sensation that let him adhere to the surface.
Carefully, he started leaning forward, testing how much of his weight the adhesion could bear. With a slight pop, both hands detached as soon as he hit about half his body weight.
He dropped lightly to his feet.
"If I'm 102 pounds, and it gives out at about half… that's around 51 pounds of holding force split between both hands. So… about 25.5 pounds of vertical pull per hand. Not terrible, but definitely not combat-grade."
He scratched the back of his head.
"When I compare it to Tim's Vibration ability, or Claro's crystals. Or especially that prodigy girl from our grade with the gravity power… yeah. It's obvious why mine's rated F-tier."
He sighed.
"But maybe if I train my body and get good at martial arts or grappling, I could turn that stickiness into an advantage. Like… redirecting momentum or making opponents overextend. Could work."
He hesitated.
"Only problem is… I'm not much of a fighter. Getting punched sucks. I learned that the hard way."
He frowned, thinking back to a rougher day—Claro's taunts, and fists, had both landed harder than Elijah had expected. There was still a faint bruise on his collarbone. Claro normally stopped at words but he must have been in an especially bad mood that day.
"Well… like a wise man once said: everyone has a plan until they get punched in the face," Elijah said, smirking slightly. "Don't remember who said it though. Some fighter maybe."
He stretched and yawned.
"Okay, that's enough rambling. I should sleep. Big day tomorrow—finally stepping into the world I've been locked out of for so long."
He turned off the lights, pulled the thin blanket over himself, and closed his eyes.
Sleep didn't come easy. He tossed and turned, thoughts still buzzing through his mind. But eventually, exhaustion won out.
Tomorrow, everything would start to change.
Elijah woke to the buzzing of his alarm, the high-pitched drone slicing through the silence of his room. Groaning, he rolled over and slapped the device until it silenced, rubbing his eyes as he slowly sat up. Despite a restless night of tossing and turning, there was a spark of energy in him—a sense of anticipation he hadn't felt in years.
Today, for the first time, he wasn't just another powerless kid watching from the sidelines. He had awakened. Weak or not, he was finally part of the system.
He stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face. As he looked at himself in the mirror, he wondered if anything had changed outwardly. Did he look stronger? Smarter? Somehow more capable? No, he was still the same scrawny Elijah Eneri. But something was different—something deep inside. The presence of mana, perhaps. Or just hope.
He held his hand up in front of him and concentrated. That strange, slightly sticky sensation returned as the power of his ability, Sticky Fingers, began to activate. Tentatively, he pressed his palm against the tiled wall of the bathroom and leaned into it. It held—for a second—then gave way with a soft pop.
"Still needs work," he muttered. "But that's fine. That's what school is for."
After a quick shower and grabbing a protein bar for breakfast, Elijah threw on his uniform and bolted out the door. The morning air was brisk and full of promise. He sprinted to the nearest transit node, barely catching the automated tram as it pulled in with a screech. The doors hissed open, and he stepped in, breathless but exhilarated.
The ride was quiet. Most of the other students looked half-asleep, earbuds in, heads bobbing. But Elijah couldn't sit still. He watched the city blur by the window—glass towers gleaming in the sunrise, anti-grav transports zooming overhead, neon signs still glowing faintly from the night before.
Every block closer to the academy felt like another heartbeat pounding louder in his chest.
As soon as the tram stopped, he dashed off and took the familiar path through the academy gates. His shoes slapped against the pavement as he hurried down the hallways.
Turning a corner too fast, Elijah collided with someone. A yelp rang out as he nearly bowled over a girl.
"Oh! Sorry, sorry!" he called out, barely glancing back as he kept running. The girl steadied herself against the wall, blinking in surprise.
Katherine Gravelle, quiet and sharp-eyed, watched him disappear around the corner. She brushed off her uniform and gave a small shake of her head. "Huh."
Elijah, oblivious to the moment, burst through the door to his homeroom a solid fifteen minutes before the first bell.
Mr. Glosac was already there, seated behind his desk, thumbing through something on a tablet. He looked up as Elijah entered, one brow raised over the cybernetic monocle he always wore.
"Good morning, Mr. Glosac!" Elijah nearly shouted, practically glowing with energy.
Glosac blinked at him, then chuckled softly. "You're quite early today, Mr. Eneri. I take it something's changed?"
"Yes, sir! I awakened the night before last," Elijah said, nearly bouncing on his feet. "I finally got my ability!"
The teacher put down his tablet, steepling his fingers in front of him. "Ah, so the day has come. Congratulations are in order, then."
Elijah flushed slightly. "I know it's not much. Just some F-tier physical adhesion thing. But I've already started experimenting with it. I think I can make something out of it."
Glosac's expression remained thoughtful. "It's good that you're taking initiative. Let me be frank with you, Elijah. Most of society isn't kind to late bloomers or low-tier awakenings. The world you're stepping into is harsh and fast-paced. No one waits for you to catch up."
Elijah's shoulders tensed, but he nodded slowly. "I figured as much."
"But," Glosac continued, his tone softening, "remember this—awakening is not the destination. It's the beginning. The real test lies in your resolve. There are plenty of students with S-tier gifts who will never do anything meaningful with them. And there are rare few—very rare—who take a weak gift and push it further than anyone thought possible."
He leaned forward slightly. "You won't be given the same chances. That's the truth. But if you fight for every inch, every gain—then you might just surprise yourself. You're not nothing, Elijah. No one is, unless they choose to be."
Elijah swallowed hard, the words hitting him in a place he hadn't realized was vulnerable.
"Thank you, sir," he said quietly.
Glosac nodded and reached beneath his desk, retrieving a crisp, laminated schedule.
"This is yours now. It's been updated to reflect your awakened status. I won't say what's on it—you'll see for yourself. But know that this schedule is a new road. Where it leads is up to you."
Elijah took it with reverence, hands trembling slightly. The laminated paper was clean, color-coded, and precise. He could already tell it detailed far more than just the next semester.
It covered the path for the next two years of his education—right up to the age of sixteen. After that, every student was expected to transition into either military service or vocational training, based on their abilities and performance. The implication weighed heavily on him. Two years to prove himself, to rise above the odds. Two years before the next crucible would begin.
He bowed his head. "I won't waste it. I promise."
"That's all I can ask. Now go take your seat. Let's see what you'll make of today."
Elijah returned to his desk, the classroom still quiet and empty around him. The buzz of the ceiling lights filled the silence. He glanced around at the familiar room—the posters, the whiteboard with half-erased equations, the desks that had always seemed to seat everyone but him.
Not anymore.
He laid the schedule flat on his desk and stared down at it, his heart pounding with anticipation. He hadn't read a single line of it yet. He wanted to take this in slowly.
He breathed in deeply, let it out through his nose, and stared with wide eyes at the unopened gateway to his future.
The bell rang.
And Elijah began to read.