The walk home was a blur. The vibrant streets of the capital, usually a source of wonder, were now just a noisy, colorful smear. Every laugh I heard felt like it was aimed at me. Every whisper seemed to carry my new, hated title: "Zero."
Our house was a modest but proud two-story building in the Hunters' district, a testament to my parents' hard work. They were away on a long-term mission in the southern dungeons, and I was suddenly grateful for their absence. How could I face them? How could I tell the son of two proud B-Rankers was an F-Rank failure?
The door creaked open into silence. The house felt cavernous, empty. The portraits of my parents on the wall, smiling in their combat gear, seemed to mock me. They had such high hopes. I had let them down. I had let myself down.
I trudged up to my room and collapsed onto my bed, the springs groaning in protest. I stared at the ceiling, replaying the scene at the Hall over and over. The assessor's awkward cough. The explosion of laughter. The coldness in Iris's eyes.
Her betrayal hurt more than the public humiliation. We were supposed to be Snape and Iris, the unbeatable duo. We had spent countless hours training together, dreaming together. Now, that dream was ash. She had discarded our friendship as easily as one would toss aside a broken tool. Because that's what I was now. Broken.
A bitter, hollow feeling gnawed at my insides. It wasn't just sadness; it was a profound sense of worthlessness. The world had judged me and found me lacking. My future, once a bright, shining path, was now a dead end. I would be a burden, a joke, a cautionary tale parents told their children.
Hours passed. The sun set, casting long shadows across my room. I didn't move. What was the point?
Finally, in the suffocating darkness, I lifted my right hand. I focused, trying to feel the "gift" that had ruined my life. A faint tingle, like a numb limb waking up, prickled my palm. I pushed, channeling the sliver of energy I possessed.
Crackle.
A tiny, pathetic blue spark, no bigger than a grain of rice, danced on my fingertip for a second before vanishing. It gave off no light, no heat. It was useless. Just like me.
Tears of frustration and despair finally welled in my eyes. I clenched my fist, the spark extinguishing into nothingness. In the crushing silence of my room, alone with my failure, I felt a rage I had never known before. A rage at the gods, at the world, at Iris, and most of all, at myself.
If this was all I was given, then I would wring every last drop of power from it, even if it killed me.