The mag-train came to a stop with a sound so soft it was more of a sigh than a hiss. For a boy used to the screech of rusted metal and the groan of collapsing structures, the silence was almost deafening. Jonah stepped onto the platform, and for a moment, he forgot to breathe.
He wasn't in Cinderfall anymore. This was a different world entirely.
The station was a giant, spotless hall, with polished white surfaces and blue glowing lights. Through a huge, see-through wall, Mystic Phoenix Academy stood tall, reaching the sky. It wasn't just a building; it was a man-made mountain, a stunning tower of shining white rock and new technology that almost competed with the sun. It made the upper city's best plazas seem like tiny villages.
Awe was a new feeling for Jonah. It was quickly followed by a more familiar one: the feeling of being a stray dog that had wandered into a palace.
Around him, the other newly Awakened teenagers chattered with nervous excitement. They were a sea of fresh faces, clean clothes, and bright eyes. They clumped together in small groups, already forming the bonds and cliques that would define their new lives.
A stern-looking administrator with a datapad stepped forward. "Alright, listen up, newly awakened!" his voice boomed, echoing slightly in the vast space. "When I call your name, you will step forward and join your assigned mentor group. They will handle your orientation from here."
Names were called out in a crisp, efficient rhythm. "Alia, Marcus, Ren… Group Gamma, with Instructor Vahn."
A trio of teens broke from the crowd, looking thrilled, and hurried over to a smiling man with a warm expression.
"Kai, Lena, Samuel… Group Delta, with Instructor Eve."
Another group, another welcoming mentor. Jonah stood his ground, hands stuffed in his pockets, watching the crowd thin out. He half-expected his name to be called, to be shuffled into a group of strangers and handed a schedule. That's how systems worked.
But the list went on, and Jonah's name never came.
Soon, only a handful of students remained, then just two, then… just him. He was an island in the middle of the empty platform. The last group had been assigned, and the administrator was tapping away at his datapad, pointedly ignoring him.
Okay, so either I'm incredibly special, or they lost my paperwork, Jonah thought with dark humor. Fifty-fifty, really.
He was just about to raise a hand and ask if he was supposed to camp out in the station when a new set of footsteps clicked against the floor. They were sharp and deliberate.
A woman stopped a few feet in front of him. She was of average height, with dark hair pulled back in a severe, military-style bun. Her uniform was impeccable, and a badge on her collar gleamed with a metallic sheen Jonah had only seen on the city's elite guards: Rank Two(Super Awakened). Her face was blank, but her eyes were like ice. She scanned him from head to toe, clearly showing she didn't care. She seemed so strict, like she lived by rules stricter than any book.
"Jonah?" she asked. Her voice was as sharp as her footsteps.
He just nodded.
"Sergeant Seraph," she introduced herself, though it sounded more like a statement of fact than a greeting. "I'm your personal combat and class development instructor."
Jonah's eyebrows shot up. Personal instructor? He'd expected to be a number, another face in the crowd. This was… different.
Seraph didn't seem to care for his surprise. She gestured for him to follow with a curt jerk of her head and turned on her heel, her boots clicking away. "Come with me."
He followed her away from the grand entrance, down a side corridor that was just as clean but far less impressive. The glowing blue lights changed to plain, bright white ones.
"Due to your… unique results at the Pillar, you've been designated a Special Evaluation Case," she said without turning around. Her voice was devoid of any emotion. "The unclassified mark, the unprecedented energy surge. It's a mess for the record keepers."
"So, what does that mean?" Jonah asked, his voice steady.
She finally stopped and faced him, her eyes intense. "It means my job is to determine if you are a prodigy or a dud."
There was no malice in her tone, just blunt honesty.
"The Pillar doesn't make mistakes," she continued, her eyes narrowing slightly, "but it can be misleading. A big explosion doesn't automatically equal a useful power. Most so-called Legendary marks are just unstable energy signatures. They look impressive for a day, maybe a week, and then they fade into nothing, leaving the Awakened with less power than a standard Manifestor."
Her words were like cold water, slowly killing the small hope he had. He remembered the bright golden light, the wonder on the crowd's faces. To her, it was just sound.
She stepped closer. Her eyes went from his worn boots to his face. She didn't need to call him a "slum kid" or "Undercroft scrapper." Her look told him everything. She was totally unimpressed.
"I don't care where you came from," she stated flatly. "The Undercroft breeds survivors or it breeds corpses. What I care about is results. You have one week to prove that mark on your arm is more than just a pretty light show."
One week. That was the deadline. It dropped into the silence like a physical blow. A week to figure out a power no one had ever seen before.
A week to prove he wasn't a failure.
Sergeant Seraph held out a small, metallic card – a key of some kind. "This is for your assigned quarters. It's isolated. No roommate."
He took the key. It was cool and heavy in his palm.
"Your first and only assignment for this week is simple," she said, her voice dropping to a low, serious command. "Figure out what you are. I don't want theories or feelings. I want a tangible, repeatable result that you can demonstrate to me in seven days."
She stared at him for a long moment. Her cold eyes dared him to complain or show weakness.
Jonah met her stare without backing down. This was a language he understood.
"Don't waste my time," she finished.
With that, Seraph turned and left. Her sharp steps echoed in the white hall until she vanished, leaving Jonah by himself.
He looked down at the key in his hand, then at his arm, where the mark of a nine-headed beast lay hidden beneath his sleeve. Was he a total failure or an amazing talent? He had one week to find out which.
Fine. Challenge accepted.