The week crawled by in restless nights. No voice. No whispers. The entity inside him had gone silent.Only the [SYSTEM] remained.
[VOID SYNCHRONIZATION: 10%]
That number mocked him. And yet… seeing it gave Rafael a strange satisfaction, like proof that it hadn't been a dream. Proof that something was inside him.
Something alive.
Still, he didn't understand what it really was. He had no idea why the entity inside him had chosen him. As far as he knew, no one else carried anything like it, nothing so alive and aware.
When the black mist curled around his fingers, he could feel it—like another heartbeat, quiet and patient, pulsing beneath his skin.
At first, he could only lift a pen, trembling and unsteady. Then a spoon. Then heavier tools when he pushed himself to the edge of exhaustion.The first time he made a wrench float, sweat pouring down his back, he almost collapsed from the effort. But when it worked, he laughed in disbelief.
His night jobs became easier. His sister squealed when her spoon danced above her cereal. She begged for it every morning. His mother frowned, muttering about drawing attention, but Rafael could see her relief too—the way her shoulders loosened, as if for the first time in years she believed her son wasn't destined to be powerless.
It wasn't much. But to Rafael, it was everything.
Late at night, lying awake on his narrow bed, he stared at the trembling mist flickering above his palm. Weak. Unstable. But real.
And tomorrow, he'd need it.Because tomorrow… he was leaving for the Academy.
---
Morning came too quickly.
Rafael dragged himself up, pulling on his plain dark shirt and worn trousers. His entire wardrobe could fit into a single drawer, but he still stood there a long time, staring at the fabric. He wanted to look decent. First impressions mattered.
He packed his few belongings into his nano-shrinking case. One by one, shirts, trousers, a 3D picture of his family—all folding into a weightless cube no bigger than his palm.
He lingered over the picture. His father was in it too, a man whose absence was a hole they all stopped mentioning. Rafael slid it inside, closed the case, and carried it to the kitchen.
His mother was stirring a pot. Raven sat swinging her legs at the table, spoon in hand.
The smell of burnt toast filled the air.
"Morning," Rafael said.
"Big day, huh?" his mother answered, voice soft but tight. Her tired eyes tried to shine for him.
"Are you really leaving today?" Raven squealed. "Show me again! The floating spoon!"
Rafael knelt, hugged her, and ruffled her hair. "After breakfast," he promised.
Her smile stretched ear to ear.
He sat. The black mist slipped from his palm, lifting his fork an inch before dropping it back. Raven clapped like it was magic. His mother said nothing, only set his plate down and brushed at her eyes.
"Eat. You'll need it," she whispered.
He did. Quietly. Every bite was heavier than the last.
When it was time to go, his mother adjusted his collar with trembling fingers. "Be careful. Don't let anyone push you around."
"I'll be fine," Rafael said, though the words stuck in his throat. "And when I get the scholarship… you'll stop working nights. Promise me."
She nodded. Hugged him. Held on too long. Raven threw her arms around both of them.
"Bring me back something cool!" she chirped.
He smiled, forced himself to pull away, and stepped outside.
The city waited.
---
Below—where Rafael lived—life meant cramped apartments, scrapyards, smoke, endless debt. Above—where he was headed—life meant power. Prestige. The Voidborne.
He passed neighbors he'd known all his life, faces worn by labor, eyes dulled by exhaustion. Some looked at him with envy, some with pity. Nobody stopped him. Nobody ever did.
The Meg-Glide station buzzed with students. Rafael gripped his old Data-slate tight. The sign flickered:
ACADEMY STATION – NEXT DEPARTURE: 08:03
This is it, he thought. The first step out of the gutter. The first step into their world.
When the pod descended, he stepped inside. Clean. Bright. Full of students. Their pressed uniforms made his worn clothes feel heavier.
He took a window seat. The pod hummed to life. The outskirts blurred into neon rivers and sprawling towers.
He whispered: "Interface."
The world froze. The system lit before his eyes.
[INTERFACE: ACTIVE]
[VOID PROTOCOL – PRIMER ACCESS]
[HOST: RAFAEL]
[CORE RANK: 0 – FLICKER STATE]
[POTENTIAL PATHWAYS: LOCKED]
[SKILL ACQUISITION: LOCKED]
[VOID SYNCHRONIZATION: 10%]
[PROCEED TO NEXT ENDURANCE TEST? YES / NO]
His thumb twitched, ready to press [YES]. But what if it happened here, in front of everyone? What if he failed?
Skill Acquisition? Potential Pathways? The words pulsed in front of him, mocking his ignorance. He hadn't even been told what they meant, let alone how to unlock them.
He blinked the screen away. The pod's hum returned. His reflection in the window looked pale.
"Mind if I sit?"
Rafael looked up. A boy with neat blond hair and sharp eyes slid into the seat beside him, uniform spotless, holo-pad under one arm.
"I'm Fredric," the boy said easily, hand outstretched. "First day too. Nervous?"
Rafael hesitated. Shook his hand. "…Rafael."
Fredric's grip was strong, practiced. His smile was easy, too easy. "Relax. We'll survive. Maybe even have fun."
Fun. At the Academy? Rafael almost smirked. Clever words. Testing waters.
Fredric leaned closer, lowering his voice. "You hear the rumors? That half the freshmen don't even make it through the first month?"
Rafael's stomach tightened. "…Rumors."
Fredric chuckled. "Maybe. Guess we'll see, huh?"
The pod filled stop by stop, more students piling in. Some whispered to each other, sparks of light flickering in their palms, orbs of water spinning lazily above their heads. Displays of control. Confidence.
Rafael stared out the window, his reflection pale against the glowing city. He clenched his fists. His mist barely lifted a spoon. And these kids? They were already bending elements like toys.
The pod slowed. The platform ahead loomed.
The Academy.
Steel bridges webbed across the sky. Towers stabbed upward, glass and metal glinting in the sun. Below, wide training yards echoed with battle cries and bursts of energy. Upper-years stood on balconies, watching with sharp eyes.
The crowd pressed forward. Fredric's uniform stayed spotless, his step steady. Rafael kept close but said nothing.
Everywhere he looked, students were showing off. A boy levitated three stone spheres in orbit. A girl summoned a whip of fire, cracking it into sparks. A group of seniors floated lazily above the ground, not even glancing at the newcomers.
It was overwhelming. Alive. Terrifying.
Rafael swallowed hard. His mist flickered faintly in his palm, invisible beneath the crowd.
This was the place where talent meant survival. Where strength meant freedom.No shortcuts. No guarantees.
Fredric's voice cut through his thoughts. "We're here."
Rafael nodded. He didn't speak.
The Academy stretched before them—vast, unyielding, alive with power.