The final bell of the day was a death knell, its shrill ring echoing through the crowded hallways of Northwood High like a taunt. For most, it signaled freedom, a rush towards the gleaming spires of the Hero Academy entrance exam tomorrow. For me, Ark Greystone, it was just another reminder of the cage I was born into.
The air itself felt charged, thick with the invisible static of dormant and active Power Cores. I could almost taste the metallic tang of Jaxon's pyrokinetic potential and feel the psychic hum that always surrounded Isis. For them, the world was a canvas of possibilities. For me, it was a locked room.
"Hey, watch it, Null!"
A shoulder clad in expensive denim slammed into mine, sending my textbooks spilling across the scuffed linoleum floor. The word 'Null'—the official, derogatory term for those like me without a Power Core—hung in the air, colder than the winter chill outside.
I didn't need to look up. I knew the voice. Brody. His smirk was a permanent fixture on his face, a mask of entitlement powered by a Beta-class Sound Manipulation core. It was a power that, in the right hands, could be used for sonar or creating stabilizing frequencies. In Brody's, it was a tool for humiliation.
"Sorry," I muttered, the word ash in my mouth. I knelt, my fingers scrambling to gather the scattered pages of chemical equations and biological diagrams—my only shields in this super-powered world.
"Sorry?" Brody's cronies, two hulking Betas with enhanced strength, chuckled like hyenas. His girlfriend, Chloe, flicked her perfectly styled hair, her nose wrinkled as if I were something she'd stepped in. "You should be. You cluttered up the hallway with your… null-ness."
Before I could retort, Brody raised a hand. A faint, visible ripple of air pulsed from his palm. It wasn't a loud sound, but a concentrated wave of force that hit me square in the chest. It was like being shoved by a silent giant. The air left my lungs in a pained gasp as I was thrown backward, my back crashing into a group of students chatting by their lockers. A cascade of apologies and annoyed glares followed me to the floor.
From my undignified position on the cold floor, I saw them laughing. Brody's sound-barrier push, Chloe's shrill giggle, the cronies' guffaws. It was a familiar symphony of misery. If you give a bully superpowers, what does he become? The answer was simple: a more efficient bully.
My gaze drifted past them, down the hall. There, surrounded by a halo of adoring fans—three beautiful girls hanging on his every word—was Jaxon Maximus. His fiery red hair was a beacon of confidence. He caught my eye mid-laugh and gave a casual, warm wave. A pang of something bitter and aching twisted in my gut. The distance. It was there, even in that friendly gesture.
Just then, a familiar scent of vanilla and ozone washed over me. "Ark? Are you okay?"
Isis McQueen was suddenly beside me, a golden-haired angel in a sea of mediocrity. Her concern was genuine, her sapphire eyes soft with worry. But I could feel it—the subtle, psychic pressure of her Alpha-class core, a gentle, inexorable tide that reminded me of the chasm between us.
"Y-yeah," I stammered, scrambling to my feet, my face flushed with heat. "Just… tripped."
Her smile was a little sad, as if she could see right through the lie, not with her telepathy, but with sixteen years of friendship. "You get startled too easily, Ark."
That's right, I thought, my heart a frantic drum against my ribs. I'm a coward. Maybe that's why the universe hasn't answered my prayers. Maybe it only chooses the brave.
Jaxon sauntered over, the crowd parting for him instinctively. The air around him was noticeably warmer. "What's the hold-up? Planning our strategy for tomorrow?" he asked, slinging a muscular arm around my shoulders. The gesture was meant to be friendly, but it felt like a weight.
The conversation on the walk home was a minefield. Jaxon was all explosive enthusiasm, talking about the physical trials. "I heard they pit you against a simulated Otherworld creature! Imagine, my flames against a holographic Behemoth!"
Isis, ever the strategist, was focused on the written exam's psychological profiling. "It's not just about power output, Jax. It's about control, mental fortitude. They need to know we won't break under pressure."
I walked between them, a silent ghost. My contributions were nods and non-committal hums. What could I say? I hope I can remember the atomic weight of Unobtainium for the science section? The future they were excitedly sketching had no place for a Null. The barrier was no longer just a feeling; it was a physical reality, and I was on the wrong side of it.
We reached the crossroads, the literal and metaphorical point where our paths diverged.
"Get some rest, Ark," Isis said, her hand gently squeezing my arm. "You'll do great on the written test. I know you will."
Jaxon grinned, a small, controlled flame dancing on his fingertip. "Yeah! And who knows? Maybe tomorrow's the day, right? The big awakening!"
I forced a smile that felt like a crack in porcelain. "Yeah. Who knows?"
I watched them walk away, Isis's golden hair catching the last rays of the sun, Jaxon's confident stride leaving faint scorch marks on the pavement. They were heading towards a future of glory and light. I was heading home to an empty house.
---
The walk was an eternity. The city hummed around me, a metropolis built for and by the powered. I saw a woman with gravity manipulation effortlessly stacking construction materials, a man with crystalline skin directing traffic with beams of light. I was an imposter in my own world.
The house at the end of Elm Street was a silent, two-story testament to my lineage of nulls. I let myself in, the click of the lock echoing in the profound quiet. No parents to greet me. They were a faded photograph and a story of a rainy night on a highway. Grandpa had been my anchor, a brilliant, kind man who'd worked in R&D for the monolithic Galaxy Corp. But a year ago, a quiet heart attack had stolen him too, leaving me with a modest inheritance and a silence so deep I could hear my own heartbeat.
Yesterday was my sixteenth birthday. Isis and Jaxon had taken me to a diner, tried their best to make it festive, but the shadow of tomorrow's exam had loomed over the cake and ice cream. Now, alone, the silence was a physical presence.
I had just slumped onto the worn sofa, the musty scent of old books and dust filling my nostrils, when a sharp, precise knock rattled the front door.
My heart jumped. No one ever visited.
Cautiously, I peered through the peephole. A man in a severe black business suit stood on the porch, his posture ramrod straight. A lawyer? Had I mismanaged the funds already?
I opened the door. "Can I help you?"
"Ark Greystone?" he asked, his voice as neutral and crisp as his suit. At my nod, he produced a small, polished wooden box, no larger than my hand. "My name is Mr. Sterling. I was your grandfather's attorney. He left very specific instructions. This is for you, to be delivered on your sixteenth birthday."
He handed me the box. It was heavier than it looked, the wood smooth and cool under my trembling fingers.
"What… what is it?" I asked.
"He simply said you would know what to do when the time came," Mr. Sterling replied with a perfunctory smile. "Good evening."
And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving me standing in the doorway, holding a piece of my grandfather's past.
Back inside, the box felt like it contained a live wire. I ran my fingers over the intricate grain, my mind racing. Grandpa had been a man of science, not sentiment. This wasn't a birthday card.
With bated breath, I lifted the lid.
There was no note. No explanation. Nestled in a bed of black velvet was a single object: a USB drive. It was sleek, obsidian-black, and unlike any I had ever seen. It had no brand name, no markings, just a single, minuscule, pulsing blue light at one end.
My grandfather's last gift. A mystery.
My eyes drifted to my laptop on the desk—a high-end Galaxy Corp model, a gift from him two years ago. He'd called it a 'tool for a brilliant mind.' Now, it felt like part of a plan.
Hands shaking with a mixture of dread and wild, impossible hope, I sat down. The room was silent except for the frantic thumping of my heart. I took a deep breath, the air tasting of dust and anticipation, and plugged the mysterious drive into the port.
For a second, nothing happened.
Then, the screen went black.
Not a sleep-mode black. A deep, absolute void. The hum of the laptop's fan died, and the room was plunged into an eerie silence.
"No, no, no…" I muttered, tapping keys frantically. Nothing.
Suddenly, the screen flashed to life. But it wasn't my desktop. It was a command prompt, lines of emerald-green code scrolling at an impossible speed, faster than any human could read. Strange, geometric symbols I'd never seen before flickered between the lines. It was a language not of this world.
A sharp, piercing pain lanced through my temples. I cried out, clutching my head. The code on the screen wasn't just being displayed; it was being projected, searing itself directly onto my retinas, into my brain. It was a torrent of information, of data, of something… else.
Sensation overloaded my senses. The smell of ozone and hot metal filled the room. A high-pitched whine, like a failing reactor, screamed in my ears. My vision tunneled, the green code the only thing I could see, burning itself into my very consciousness.
"Grandpa… what did you do?" I gasped, before the world dissolved into a symphony of pain and light, and I pitched forward onto the cool, hard floor, into merciful oblivion.
---
Sunlight, warm and intrusive, stabbed at my eyelids. I groaned, my head throbbing with the mother of all hangovers. I was on the floor, my limbs stiff and cold. The memory of last night crashed over me like a wave—the USB, the code, the pain.
I pushed myself up, wincing. The laptop sat on the desk, screen dark and innocent. The USB drive was gone. Vanished.
"What the hell…" I mumbled, my voice raspy.
And then it happened.
A soft, mechanical beep, clear and digital, sounded directly inside my mind. My vision flickered, and a semi-transparent, blue-tinted screen materialized in the air before me, hovering like a ghostly interface.
[System Initialization Complete.]
[Bio-metrics Synced: User, Ark Greystone.]
[Neural Integration: 100%.]
[Welcome to the A.S.S.A.S.S.I.N. Protocol.]
I stared, my breath catching in my throat. The words were in English, but the font was sleek, futuristic, reminiscent of the strange code from last night.
"W-what is this?" I whispered, my voice trembling.
The screen responded, the text shifting.
[Query Recognized.] The voice was androgynous, calm, and utterly synthetic, speaking directly into my auditory cortex.
[Activating Assassin System for Symbiotic Assimilation and Strategic Neutralization.]
[Primary Directive: User Evolution and Survival.]
[Scanning User Status…]
A new set of data appeared on the screen, laid out like a character sheet from a video game.
USER: Ark Greystone
AGE:16
POWER CORE:[ERROR: NONE DETECTED]
SYSTEM CORE:A.S.S.A.S.S.I.N. Protocol (Tier 0)
PHYSICAL CONDITION:Below Average
MENTAL ACUITY:High
AVAILABLE CREDITS:0
My eyes were glued to the line that read POWER CORE. It still said 'None Detected'. A crushing disappointment washed over me. This wasn't an awakening. It was… something else.
But then, more text scrolled.
[Initial Diagnostic Complete. Host physiology sub-optimal for System utilization.]
[Initiating Basic Augmentation Suite…]
A sudden, electric warmth flooded my veins. It wasn't painful like last night; it was… invigorating. I felt a subtle shift in my muscles, a newfound tautness. The chronic ache in my back from years of hunching over books vanished. The world around me seemed sharper, the dust motes dancing in the sunbeam were individually distinct, the faint sound of a bird outside was crystal clear.
[Augmentation Complete: Minor Physical Enhancement (Tier 1).]
[New Sub-System Unlocked: [Analysis Eye (Tier 0)].]
My gaze fell on my physics textbook lying on the floor. Instantly, a small, bracketed text appeared superimposed over it.
[OBJECT: Textbook.][MATERIAL: Processed Wood Pulp, Ink.][THREAT LEVEL: Null.]
I whipped my head around, looking at the front door.
[OBJECT: Solid Wood Door.][STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY: 87%.][WEAK POINT: Hinges, Lock Mechanism.]
A hysterical laugh bubbled up in my throat. This wasn't a Power Core. It was… a system. An interface. A tool. Grandpa hadn't given me power; he had given me a weapon. A weapon that didn't care about the arbitrary classifications of Alpha and Beta.
The mechanical, beeping screen hovered patiently in my vision.
[Primary Mission Assigned: Pass the Hero Academy Entrance Exam.]
[Objective 1: Excel in the Written Examination.]
[Objective 2: Survive the Physical Aptitude Test.]
[Reward upon Completion: System Tier Upgrade. Unlock: [Stealth Cloak (Tier 0)].]
Survive? The word sent a chill down my spine. But it was quickly replaced by a fire I hadn't felt in years. A fierce, burning determination.
I looked at my reflection in the dark screen of my laptop. The same tired eyes, the same messy black hair. But something was different. Behind those eyes, something new was whirring to life.
I wasn't Ark Greystone, the Null, anymore.
I picked up my bag, feeling the new, latent strength in my limbs. The world hadn't chosen me. Evolution had passed me by. But my grandfather hadn't. He had reached from beyond the grave and handed me a key.
A key to a different kind of power.
I looked at the holographic screen, a grim smile touching my lips for the first time in what felt like forever.
"Alright," I said, my voice steady, resonating with a newfound confidence. "Let's go to the exam."