A chubby boy ran through the halls of the school.
Anyone watching could tell the place hadn't been cleaned in a long time. Dirt coated the floors, trash and plastic bottles were scattered everywhere, and even streaks of dried biological fluid stained the walls. The air felt heavy, stale.
After several frantic turns and near-collisions, the boy finally skidded to a stop in front of a classroom door.
Room 50B.
He burst inside.
At the front of the room stood a woman mid-lecture, chalk still in her hand. She stopped the moment she saw him.
"Even on the final day, you're still late," the teacher said flatly. "I expected more than that, Riven."
"Sorry, Mrs. Macon, I was just—"
"Just take your seat," she interrupted. "Next to your brother. You know—the one who actually arrived on time."
Riven winced and hurried down the aisle. The desks were arranged in four neat rows. He slid into an empty seat in the second row beside a boy who looked strikingly similar to him.
Same face. Same eyes.
Different build.
Where Riven was soft and round, the boy beside him was lean and toned. His brown hair was neatly combed, not a strand out of place.
As Mrs. Macon resumed her lesson, the brown-haired boy leaned closer.
"I'm guessing you got the game."
Riven replied with a quiet grin and a thumbs-up.
"You know it. And since I was one of the first there, I even got a discount." He pulled a small game box from his bag.
Legend of the Evolver.
An open-world, online bandit-beater game that had taken the world by storm when it first released. Riven had been excited too—until reality kicked in.
As a Wallborn, the game only released inside the Walls a full year later. By the time he got his copy, most players were already veterans.
"You know you won't even have time to really play," the brown-haired boy said, eyes still fixed on the board so Mrs. Macon wouldn't notice. "Not with what's coming next year."
"Yeah, yeah, I know," Riven whispered back. "The Academy. But we've got a four-month break. I'll squeeze in some fun."
The boy beside him was Jordan—his twin brother. Despite sharing a birthday, the differences between them were obvious. Riven's black hair stuck out in uneven clumps, like he'd rolled straight out of bed and left the house without a mirror. Jordan, on the other hand, looked composed, put together.
Mrs. Macon cleared her throat.
"Now," she announced, "we all know what comes after these next four months. You'll be attending the Academy for your three-year program. Pop quiz—what are the two main academies?"
A brown-haired girl raised her hand. Mrs. Macon nodded.
"There's Sigil Gate Academy and Black Star Academy," the girl said. "But there are also four other institutions called camps. They're tied to the four major factions—the Broken Veil, the Black Halo, Evolaris, and the Wall Branch, which we're part of: the Dawn."
She continued confidently. "Each faction uses its camp to train future elites and maintain their power."
"Good," Mrs. Macon said. "And why are there two main academies?"
This time, a blond boy stood up. His clothes were wrinkled, stained, like they hadn't been washed in days.
"One academy is for those who evolved," he said. "The other is for those who didn't. Black Star Academy is basically a branch of the Broken Veil, since they take in mostly non-evolved individuals. Most factions don't want them."
Mrs. Macon nodded. "Correct. I'm glad to see some of you are ready for the next step in your lives. I know saying goodbye will be hard, but don't let that stop you from climbing higher—"
The classroom door creaked open.
A boy with long, jagged hair and a muscular build walked in like he owned the place. Mrs. Macon didn't scold him like she had Riven. She simply watched as he took his seat.
"Speaking of the future," she said calmly, "Crasfer. Those scouted by factions usually disappear long before the final day. I'm surprised you showed up."
Riven muttered under his breath. "Lucky."
Crasfer had been scouted by the Dawn faction. For him, school was already irrelevant. His future was secured—training, resources, protection. Everything handled.
"Figured I'd visit this dump one last time," Crasfer said lazily. "Maybe take a few people with me."
His gaze lingered on a girl nearby. She blushed instantly.
Crasfer leaned back against a desk, resting his weight on it while kicking the chair of the blond boy in front of him over and over. The boy stayed silent. So did the teacher.
Riven clenched his jaw.
"Hey," he said quietly. "Can you stop that?"
Crasfer glanced back. "Stop what? I'm just listening to my teacher."
"You're kicking his chair," Riven said. "Cut it out."
The room went quiet.
"And if I don't," Crasfer sneered, "what are you going to do about it, chubby?"
"You want to find out, you egotistical maniac?"
Crasfer stopped kicking the desk. He slowly turned around, staring Riven in the eyes with a wide expression.
"Do you want to say that again, punk?"
"And if I do?"
Riven knew exactly what he was doing. Calling Crasfer crazy always got under his skin.
He remembered the day another student had accidentally bumped into him. Crasfer beat the kid half to death. The student wasn't even an Evolver—yet Crasfer still used his ability on him.
Riven had known Crasfer since elementary school. He hadn't always been like this.
The reason became clear the day after the incident.
That was the day Crasfer was scouted.
Fame. Attention. The feeling of being wanted.
It all went to his head in a single day.
Crasfer rose to his feet, looking down at Riven.
"You wanna say that again, Wallborn scum?"
That made Riven laugh out loud.
"Wallborn scum?" he said. "Did you forget we both live inside the Walls? You're not even in a camp yet, and you're already letting it go to your head."
Riven stood up, looking up at Crasfer—he was slightly taller.
"Let me remind you of something. If they see no growth from you, or if you prove you're all bark and no bite, you'll end up in the Academy like the rest of us. Probably in the same spot too. So before you let that ego grow any bigger, you should worry about keeping your place."
Riven stepped back as a faint crackle of lightning crept up Crasfer's arm.
"Oh shi—"
The lightning hit him square in the chest.
Riven was sent flying across the room, slamming into the lockers in the back. It happened too fast for anyone to react. Everyone knew once Crasfer's lightning started charging, there was no stopping him.
No one helped.
They just looked down at their desks.
Riven gasped for air, his chest burning. It felt like he'd been hit by a truck.
Crasfer walked over, an insane grin spread across his face.
"Aww," he mocked. "Where'd all that confidence go?"
"Don't forget," he continued, "I'm practically untouchable. Why do you think nobody does anything when I pull this kind of stuff?"
He crouched and grabbed Riven by the chin.
"When the camp starts, I'm not losing my spot. They see me as an asset. That means I can lie—say you attacked me—and they'll believe it. Who knows what they'll do? Maybe pay your family a visit."
He smiled wider.
"I've never tried it before."
"So next time," he said, "close your mo—"
A kick slammed into the side of his face.
Everyone in the room expected it—except Crasfer. He never thought anyone would interfere.
"Riven, are you okay?" Jordan shouted, rushing to his brother's side.
"Yeah," Riven wheezed. "I'm okay—get down!"
Another bolt of lightning cracked through the air.
"Hey, Crasfer."
Two boys walked into the room. Their hair was badly dyed, patches of their original color showing through. Their clothes were ripped—clearly on purpose.
"We could hear you having fun from downstairs," one of them said. "What's going on?"
They noticed Riven and Jordan standing while everyone else sat frozen.
"Oh," the boy smirked. "The twins."
Before either brother could react, the boy rushed forward and slammed them both to the ground, their heads hitting hard.
"Already broken?" the other laughed. "Man, I didn't even get a turn."
"Shut up," Crasfer snapped.
The boy backed off immediately.
Crasfer held the side of his face where Jordan had kicked him. He was furious—furious that someone with such a weak evolution dared to touch him.
"Take them outside," he ordered.
Crasfer walked out as the two boys dragged Riven and Jordan with them.
"Thanks for the help," Riven mouthed, flipping off the silent classroom.
3 hours passed.
The day was nearly over, the sun beginning to set.
Three boys walked out of an alley—Crasfer and his friends—laughing, clothes draped over their arms.
A few moments later, Riven and Jordan stumbled out behind them.
Only in their underwear.
"This is so embarrassing," Jordan muttered.
People stared. Some laughed. Others pointed.
"It probably wouldn't have gone this way if you used your evolved ability," Riven said, trying to cover himself.
"You know my ability's weak," Jordan shot back, smacking Riven lightly on the back of the head. "And none of this would've happened if someone had just minded their business."
"It wasn't the noise," Riven replied. "It was how he treated that guy. He didn't do anything. That's wrong."
Jordan sighed.
"And I wasn't just gonna watch you get your ass beat."
Riven chuckled.
"Yeah… I know."
He held out a fist. Jordan bumped it.
As they walked home, they passed people begging for units—the currency of the time. People with no backup, no safety net. If they failed, they were cast outside the Walls.
Left to the beasts.
In the year 2053, a blinding white light flashed across the entire Earth.
Reports poured in from every corner of the world—cities, deserts, oceans, even the skies—but no damage was found. No aftershocks. No radiation. No explanation. Within five years, the event was dismissed as an unexplained global phenomenon and slowly forgotten by time.
Then people began to change.
Ordinary humans started developing abilities once thought to exist only in comic books and novels—flight, telekinesis, gravity manipulation, fire, lightning, earth, ice, and countless variations beyond them. Governments searched for answers. Scientists chased theories. Religions argued over meaning.
But one thing was undeniable.
Every recorded case shared a common factor.
These abilities appeared in people pushed to the edge—those running for their lives, being hunted by monsters or other humans, or watching the lives of family and friends hang by a thread. In those moments, when escape wasn't an option and surrender meant death, something inside them snapped awake.
Humanity named this phenomenon Forced Evolution.
It was likened to an adrenaline spike—but unlike adrenaline, it never faded. The power stayed, permanently etched into the body and mind, and as years passed, it began appearing more frequently.
Yet despite decades of research, no one ever discovered where these abilities truly came from—or whether they were connected to the white blinding light that had once engulfed the planet.
By 2073, a second truth emerged.
Some people didn't need trauma to awaken at all.
Children between the ages of five and twelve began manifesting abilities naturally, without fear, injury, or near-death experiences. This was labeled Natural Evolution, a rare but stable phenomenon. After that age, however, the window closed.
Scientists chalked it up to the human body itself—something that had always evolved slightly with each generation. According to their research, it was tied to a gene within the human body. Every human might possess it, but most couldn't awaken it themselves. Instead, it could be passed down to their kin, allowing them to evolve without experiencing a traumatic event.
By the year 2140, the world had settled into a new order.
Factions rose up, using their powers to grow as influential as governments themselves—sometimes even more so. Governments rarely interfered with faction affairs anymore, fearing their power and reach. In recent years, two major discoveries reshaped the world yet again: the invention of portals, allowing instant travel between distant locations, and the third—currently final—type of evolution.
Fictional Evolution.
A different path branching from Forced Evolution. In these cases, a person's abilities were based on characters from TV shows, cartoons, or movies. Very little was known about Fiction Evolvers—how they worked, how they improved, or where their power truly came from. What was known was that nearly every major faction wanted them.
As the two brothers continued walking, a groan suddenly escaped Riven's mouth. Jordan noticed him stop and facepalm.
"What?" Jordan asked.
"Our bags," Riven groaned. "They're still at the school. I just wasted thirty dollars for nothing."
Jordan knew exactly what he meant—the game.
"What did you do with the rest of your paycheck from work?" Jordan asked.
"What do you think?" Riven replied. "I gave it to Mom and Dad for rent and taxes. When do you get paid?"
"Next week. And after that payment, I'm thinking of quitting."
They started walking again.
"Why?" Riven asked.
"Come on, Riven. You've heard the rumors about the Academy, haven't you? They make you fight beasts—real ones. Big, scary ones. Do you really think we should go there at this level?"
Riven was deep in thought when a bark came from beside them. He turned and saw a small black dog forming from a dripping black substance on the ground.
Ink.
Riven recognized it instantly. It was his brother's naturally evolved ability.
"That's the best I can do," Jordan said. "A Chihuahua. Do you really think I can beat some giant beast with that?"
The dog wagged its tail.
"I'm quitting my job and starting to train my ability. I've neglected it ever since I evolved, but after today—after getting struck by lightning—I've been thinking. This might be our only way out of here. The way out."
Riven understood what Jordan meant. Their parents still had each other—something many people didn't have anymore. Something many wished for.
"You do that, then," Riven said quietly.
"And you should lose some of that weight, pig," Jordan added, poking Riven's stomach.
They both chuckled.
"Maybe," Riven replied.
As they approached their home, they noticed a blond-haired boy standing beneath a streetlight, holding two bags. When he spotted them, his eyes lit up and he ran over.
"Uh—hi. You don't really know me, but we're in the same class. My name's Joey Cross."
"Uh, hey, Joey," the twins said in unison as Joey handed them the bags.
"I've gotta rush home before the sun fully sets," Joey said, hopping up and down like a rabbit ready to bolt. "Long story short—I grabbed your bags after they dragged you out. I was waiting for you here. I also got extra uniforms for you, since Crasfer's group was stealing clothes. Trust me, I know."
He paused. "Any questions?"
"Yeah, just one," Jordan said, raising his eyebrow. "Did you Break into our house?"
Joey froze—then took off running.
"Thanks!" Riven yelled after him.
Riven sighed. "See? Being nice isn't so bad."
"Yeah, whatever," Jordan muttered. "Let's get dressed before Mom and Dad catch us standing out here in nothing but boxers."