"Can you demonstrate your ability?" Eason asked quietly.
Drew blinked. "You finally spoke. I was starting to think you cut off your tongue or something." He grinned, then lifted his hand and focused. A small flicker appeared — then a ball of fire hovered above his palm, glowing faintly in the early dusk.
"Look, man. This is it. Fire. My psychic ability. Awesome, right?"
Eason's gaze stayed on the flame. "Pyrokinesis," he said flatly.
"Yeah, whatever, nerd," Drew snorted. "Just awaken already. Let's join the Association together."
Eason's eyes twitched.
He was never going to join the Association.
Not again.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Drew said, frowning. "One quest can earn us real money. Look at you. Look at me. We're both poor, but at least I'm doing something about it. Hell, you're still wearing my clothes."
Eason glanced down at the faded hoodie and black jeans.
"…How much are we talking?"
Drew's eyes lit up. "Forty credit points. Just for joining. And that's not even including mission payouts. You know how much that is? We could actually buy a house, man. No more leaky walls and moldy ceilings."
Eason fell silent.
He hated to admit it—but Drew was right. He was broke. Desperately broke. And even if it meant stepping into the same system that once tried to erase him.
"I awakened three days ago," Eason said, his voice even.
Drew nearly tripped. "Wait, what?! You awakened and didn't even tell me?"
He spun around, looking at Eason like he'd just grown a second head. "Bro, seriously? You've been sitting on that news for three whole days?"
Eason stayed silent, hands in his pockets.
Drew sighed and shook his head. "Whatever, man. That's awesome, though! What kind of ability is it? Ice? Lightning? Something flashy?"
"Telekinesis," Eason said.
Drew blinked. "Man, I don't know those science-y names. Just show me."
Eason glanced behind Drew. A half-empty soda can lying on the sidewalk began to shake, then lifted off the ground and hovered silently in the air. With a small twitch of Eason's finger, it crushed inward with a metallic crunch, folding into itself like paper.
Drew turned around, eyes wide. "Yo."
The can clattered to the ground.
"Okay, that's sick. You got the cool kind of ability. Not some weak little spark." He gave Eason a firm slap on the back. "We're totally joining the Association now, man. No excuses."
It took them three hours to find the place.
The Association Headquarters stood like a giant monolith at the heart of the city — a dark, glass-covered skyscraper that stretched toward the sky like a dagger. Drew and Eason stood at its base, looking up in awe. Neither of them had ever been here before, and truthfully, they'd spent half the journey asking for directions.
Inside the lobby, everything was polished and expensive-looking. White floors gleamed under the soft blue lighting, and silver columns reflected their ragged appearances like harsh mirrors. Eyes turned as the two walked in — not because they were important, but because they looked so out of place.
A woman sat behind a sleek black reception desk, typing on a holographic screen. She wore a sharp black suit and glasses that rested on the bridge of her nose. Her long hair was tied in a neat bun, and not a strand was out of place.
Her eyes shifted toward them.
One of them had a rough, cold expression — tall, quiet, unreadable. The other had a friendlier face, but both were dressed in torn, patched clothes, like they'd just come off the street.
What are beggars doing in this place? she thought.
Drew stepped forward with his usual smile. "Hi there. We're here to take the exam to become registered psychics."
The woman blinked.
"…Both of you?"
"Yeah. We both awakened recently," Drew said proudly, puffing out his chest.
Her fingers froze mid-type.
You're kidding. She looked them over again. These two? They look like they slept in an alley last night. And yet, her scanner confirmed what she feared — their psychic readings were genuine.
She adjusted her glasses and forced a professional smile.
"Very well," she said. "Please proceed to the third floor. Room 317. The aptitude tests begin in fifteen minutes."
Drew grinned. "Thanks!"
As they walked away, the receptionist shook her head.
What kind of luck is this? Even beggars are awakening now.
Room 317.
The air was cold, sterile. Massive machinery hummed softly as monitors flickered on the walls. In the center of the room stood a transparent glass chamber reinforced with alloy wiring. A rugged man with a thick beard and a long coat was seated at a control desk, tapping away on a touchscreen interface.
He glanced up. "Alright. First one — step into the chamber."
Drew straightened his shoulders and stepped inside the glass chamber, trying to ignore how nervous he felt. The door hissed shut behind him.
"Demonstrate your ability," the man said, bored.
Drew raised his hand, focusing. Two small fireballs formed in his palms. He grinned, but as he hurled them forward, they fizzled out mid-air, vanishing before hitting the chamber wall.
The man barely reacted. "Pyrokinesis. Tier One. You awakened recently, didn't you?"
Drew scratched his head and muttered, "Yeah... like two days ago."
"Next."
Eason silently stepped into the chamber. The door sealed shut again. For a moment, he stood still, then closed his eyes. Around him, the scattered tools and small training weights began to tremble. One by one, they floated into the air — until his control snapped. Most dropped instantly, leaving only two midair for a few seconds longer before falling.
The man raised an eyebrow but said nothing extraordinary.
"Telekinesis. Tier One."
He scribbled something into his tablet and motioned toward the exit.
"Wait in the hall. Someone will call your name."
Eason stepped out without a word. Drew joined him, whispering, "Well, that was underwhelming."
Outside the testing room, Drew slumped onto a bench, groaning.
"Man… I thought we were gonna be strong. Something good. But to think we're only Tier One…"
Eason leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Well, yeah. Of course," he said, a faint smirk playing on his lips.
Drew blinked, then stared. "Whoa—hold up. Was that a smirk? Did you actually just smirk?"
Eason said nothing, still half-grinning.
Drew grinned wider. "Dude, that's the first time you've ever shown a real human expression. Maybe there's hope for your cold-ass face after all."
Eason shrugged. "Don't get used to it."
Soon after, a voice crackled through the speaker.
"Eason. Drew. Room 317."
They exchanged glances.
"Again?" Drew muttered, pushing off the bench. "What is it this time, bud?"
Inside, the same bearded man from before stood waiting, arms crossed.
"You both will be placed in Class D," he said flatly.
Drew blinked. "Class? Dude, I'm not here to study. I left school for a reason."
Eason chimed in, voice cool and dry, "I highly agree."
The man didn't flinch. "It's not that kind of class. Class D is where newly awakened psychics from Tier One to Tier Three are grouped. You'll go over the basics—combat forms, psychic focus, team formations. And more importantly, you'll learn about your psychic seed."
Drew tilted his head, eyes narrowing. "Psychic seed?"
The bearded man reached into a drawer and pulled out two small packages. "Here. Your ID badges, tier clearance, and standard Association watches. Each comes with 40 credit points."
Drew flipped the badge in his hand. "Drew Ventra. Tier 1. Pyrokinesis."
He glanced at Eason's badge but didn't say anything. Eason was already fastening the watch to his wrist, quiet as ever.
"Class D starts tomorrow morning," the man added. "You miss it, you're out."
As they stepped out into the hallway, Drew stared at his new watch like it was a rare artifact. "Well… at least the credits are real," he muttered. "Guess we're students, huh?"
Eason slid the badge into his pocket, his voice low. "Just our luck, I guess."