Damian stepped out of the portal alone.
The transition back to Earth was always strange—less violent than entering a portal, but somehow heavier. The air felt duller, thinner, as if something essential had been left behind on the other side. The fortified WAU exit zone buzzed with activity behind him, but Damian didn't look back.
That world was not done with him.
Not anymore.
He adjusted the strap of his bag and began walking.
The nearest underground metro station was a fifteen-minute walk away.
Damian took the route he always did, cutting through narrow streets lined with cracked pavement and half-repaired buildings. WAU patrol drones hovered overhead, scanning passersby with dull red lights. Posters warning about illegal portal entry and unregistered Awakened were plastered on walls, layered over older advertisements that belonged to a time before the world had broken.
The metro station entrance yawned open like a concrete throat swallowing people whole.
Damian descended the stairs and tapped his transit card. The underground was crowded—not with office workers or students like before, but with tired faces, security contractors, low-rank soldiers, delivery runners, and people who lived day to day with no certainty of tomorrow.
He boarded the earliest train.
The doors slid shut with a mechanical hiss, and the train lurched forward.
Damian took an empty seat near the window and leaned back, exhaustion finally catching up to him. His body ached in places he didn't remember injuring. His hands still felt strange—lighter, steadier.
He wore simple clothes: blue jeans and a black shirt, both worn thin from repeated washing. There was dried blood on the cuff of his sleeve he hadn't noticed before. He tugged it down absently.
To distract himself, Damian pulled out his phone.
The cracked screen flickered before stabilizing. He opened his favorite novel—one he'd been reading on and off for months. A story about secrets, power, and survival in a world that rewarded intelligence more than brute strength.
Usually, reading calmed him.
Today, the words blurred.
His mind kept replaying the same images.
John's scream.
The dire wolf's eyes.
The dagger sinking in.
And then—
[You have awakened your dormant power]
Damian clenched his jaw and locked the phone screen.
'It really happened,' he thought. 'I didn't imagine it.'
The train rattled through dark tunnels, lights flashing rhythmically through the windows. Station names passed by, each one marking a slow return to a life that felt increasingly distant.
After twenty minutes, Damian stood and stepped off at his stop.
The neighborhood greeted him with silence and decay.
What had once been a bustling district was now a patchwork of survival. Tall buildings leaned slightly, their foundations weakened by monster incursions years ago. Some had been condemned and hollowed out, their lower floors reinforced and converted into cramped rental units.
The streets were dim even during the evening.
Broken streetlights flickered weakly. People huddled in doorways and alleys, wrapped in thin blankets, eyes sharp with hunger or fear. Children played quietly near barricades made of scrap metal, their laughter subdued as if they instinctively understood the world wasn't safe enough for noise.
Damian walked past them, gaze lowered.
He wasn't heartless.
He just couldn't afford to look too long.
'This used to be a good place,' he thought. 'Before the portals.'
When the first disasters struck, the wealthy moved upward and outward—into fortified zones, protected districts, and cities with layered defenses. The middle class followed as best they could.
Everyone else was left behind.
These neighborhoods became cheap.
Then dangerous.
Then forgotten.
Damian stopped at a small convenience stall wedged between two buildings. The owner, an old man with tired eyes, barely looked up as Damian picked out instant noodles, butter and a pack of white bread.
Cheap. Filling. Enough.
He paid and continued on.
His apartment building stood at the end of a narrow lane.
It wasn't really an apartment building—more like a repurposed warehouse divided into dozens of single-room units. The exterior walls were reinforced with metal plates, and a WAU safety seal was stamped near the entrance, indicating it was relatively safe.
Relatively.
Damian climbed the stairs to the third floor and unlocked his door.
The room greeted him with familiar stillness.
One small bed pushed against the wall.
A wooden table scarred with knife marks and burn stains.
A single chair.
A narrow bathroom barely large enough to turn around in.
That was it.
The rent was three hundred dollars a week, water included. Electricity was prepaid and unreliable.
It wasn't much—but it was shelter.
Damian dropped his bag and stood there for a moment, letting the silence sink in.
'I survived,' he thought quietly.
Not long ago, this room had felt like a dead end.
Now—
He clenched his fist.
'Now everything can change.'
He knew the numbers.
Government contracts for Awakened paid more in a single mission than he earned in months. Even low-rank Awakened received benefits normal citizens could never dream of—priority medical access, housing subsidies, training resources.
His mother.
Her hospital bed flashed through his mind.
'If everything goes right…' he thought, heart tightening, 'I might be able to move her. Better doctors. Better treatment.'
Hope—real hope—was a dangerous thing.
Damian shook his head.
'Not yet. Don't get careless.'
He locked the door, took a quick shower, and let hot water wash away the day's grime and blood. His body trembled slightly as the adrenaline finally faded, leaving exhaustion behind.
By the time he finished dinner, he could barely keep his eyes open.
But there was something he needed to do.
Damian lay on his bed, staring at the cracked ceiling.
The room smelled faintly of instant noodles and damp concrete. Outside, distant sirens wailed—normal for this area.
He took a slow breath.
'System.'
The response was immediate.
A translucent interface unfolded before his eyes, clear and sharp.
Name: Damion
Race: Human
Rank: Awakened [2/1000]
Aspect: Locked
Skills:
• Eye of Analysis [Rare]
• Overclock [Rare]
Items: —
Soul Power: 1/1000
Damian's lips curved into a smile.
He couldn't stop it.
He stared at the window for several long seconds, just to make sure it didn't vanish.
It didn't.
'I'm really awakened…'
His chest felt light—so light it almost hurt.
For years, awakening had been a distant fantasy. Something that happened to other people. Chosen ones. Lucky ones. Talented ones.
Not him.
And yet—
Here he was.
Damian forced himself to calm down.
He had read enough stories—and lived enough reality—to know that excitement without understanding was a shortcut to disaster.
'Knowledge first,' he reminded himself. 'Always.'
His gaze returned to the interface.
Name, race—nothing unusual there.
His attention fixed on his rank.
Awakened [2/1000]
'So this is progression…'
Next to the rank, a faint progress indicator pulsed gently. Damian focused, and additional details surfaced in his perception.
He had gained +2 Magic Essence from killing the dire wolf.
'Magic essence… so that's the currency of growth.'
It made sense.
Monsters carried power within them. By killing and absorbing that power, an Awakened could grow stronger.
'Not levels,' Damian realized. 'Accumulation.'
A slow, dangerous path.
He closed his eyes briefly and turned his attention inward.
There.
Deep within his chest—near his heart—he felt it.
A presence.
Small, but undeniable.
A forming core.
It wasn't physical, yet it was more real than anything he had ever felt before. A faint warmth pulsed rhythmically, synchronized with his heartbeat.
'Magic core,' he thought.
Stored power.
Potential.
When he focused on it, a subtle energy spread through his body, reinforcing his muscles, sharpening his senses.
'That's why I felt stronger,' he realized. 'Even without activating a skill.'
His gaze shifted to the skills section.
Eye of Analysis [Rare]
Damian frowned slightly.
'Analysis… observation-based skill?'
It aligned with what he had felt during the fight—that moment of clarity, when details became obvious and movements predictable.
'If this skill grows…' he thought slowly, 'I could read enemies. Situations. Weaknesses.'
His eyes moved to the second skill.
Overclock [Rare]
The name alone made his heart beat faster.
'Temporary enhancement?' he guessed. 'Pushing the body beyond limits?'
Dangerous—but powerful.
Both skills were marked Rare.
Damian exhaled softly.
'For a first awakening… this is abnormal.'
Most newly awakened people received one common skill—sometimes none at all.
Two rare skills meant potential.
It also meant attention.
'That could be dangerous,' he reminded himself.
His aspect, however, was still locked.
'Aspect… probably my main attribute,' he thought. 'Maybe it unlocks later.'
Soul Power sat at 1/1000—pitifully low.
'So this is just the beginning,' Damian concluded. 'Barely a step in.'
He lay there in silence, absorbing the reality of it all.
Power.
Responsibility.
Risk.
A future that was no longer completely dark.
Outside, the city continued to decay, indifferent to his transformation.
Inside that small, rented room, something fundamental had changed.
Damian closed his eyes, one hand resting over his chest where the magic core pulsed faintly.
'This time,' he promised himself, 'I won't waste it.'
Tomorrow, he would prepare.
The day after, he would register.
And after that—
The world would no longer look at him the same way.
Not because he demanded it.
But because he would earn it.