The bell rang at exactly seven.
Not the sharp clang of a classroom bell, but the low, resonant toll that rolled across the academy grounds like a warning drum. It echoed once, twice, then faded into the morning mist hanging above the concrete courtyards.
Auro Cain opened his eyes.
He had already been awake.
Around him, rows of students stirred—some stretching, some laughing too loudly, some sitting upright as if they hadn't slept at all. The public awakening academy was built like a repurposed military facility: wide parade grounds, reinforced buildings, watchtowers at the corners. It had once trained soldiers. Now, it processed futures.
Auro rose from his seat and adjusted his uniform collar with practiced movements. The fabric was clean, pressed, and unadorned. No lucky charms. No symbols. Just regulation gray with the academy insignia stitched over the chest.
Ordinary.
That word had followed him his entire life.
He was taller than average, but not striking. Broad-shouldered, but not bulky. His black hair was cut short, practical. His eyes—dark, steady—never lingered too long on anything.
Farm habits, his father used to say. You learn to look at weather, soil, animals. Not people.
The courtyard buzzed with restrained excitement.
Today was Awakening Day.
Students clustered in small groups, whispering guesses and rumors like traders before a market opened.
"Lightning runs in my family. My uncle awakened it at seventeen."
"My cousin failed. Didn't awaken at all. Works in logistics now."
"They say if you get a combat-type ability, the military recruiters come immediately."
Auro listened without turning his head.
He had heard all of it before.
For a hundred years, this day had decided everything.
When the Gates first appeared—when monsters spilled into cities and mana flooded the world—society had fractured. Old professions died. New hierarchies formed overnight. The awakened stood at the top, the unawakened beneath them, clinging to support roles and survival quotas.
Awaken, and you had a future.
Fail, and you were… managed.
Auro rolled his shoulders once, loosening muscles trained by years of dawn labor. His body felt solid. Healthy. Reliable.
Yet there was a strange tightness in his chest, like the moment before a storm broke over the fields.
He exhaled slowly.
Across the courtyard, faculty members gathered near the platform.
The Awakening Platform stood at the center like a slab of polished obsidian, circular and slightly raised. Runes etched along its edge pulsed faintly, reacting to the mana saturation in the air. A dozen monitoring crystals hovered above it, translucent and cold.
Everything here was designed for one thing.
Measurement.
A tall man in a formal coat stepped forward. His voice carried effortlessly, enhanced by mana.
"Students of Class Eighteen," he announced, "today you stand at the threshold of your adult lives."
The chatter quieted.
"Awakening is not a blessing," he continued. "It is not a promise of glory. It is a revelation of what you are—and what you will be permitted to become."
Auro noted the wording.
Permitted.
"Your abilities will be logged," the man said. "Your compatibility recorded. Your future pathways assigned accordingly."
He paused, gaze sweeping the crowd.
"Those who awaken dangerous or unstable powers will be evaluated immediately."
A ripple of tension ran through the students.
Unstable.
Everyone knew what that meant.
Curses. Corruption. Mental interference. Powers that carried a cost.
The first student was called.
A boy with carefully styled blond hair stepped onto the platform, trying—and failing—to hide his grin. Mana surged as the runes flared bright blue.
A column of light erupted.
The monitoring crystals chimed.
"Fire Affinity. Rank C."
Cheers broke out. The boy raised his hands instinctively, flames dancing above his palms. Faculty members nodded approvingly. Clean. Combat-ready. Valuable.
He left the platform to a chorus of congratulatory shouts.
One by one, students followed.
Wind. Earth. Enhanced Strength. Steel Skin.
Each manifestation brought reactions—envy, awe, calculation. Names were whispered. Futures imagined.
Auro stood still.
He felt the distance growing.
Not physically. Emotionally.
It was subtle. Like standing at the edge of a field while others gathered around a bonfire. The warmth didn't reach him, but he wasn't cold either. Just… separate.
A healer-type awakened next. Soft green light, restorative aura. The faculty reacted with restrained approval.
Auro's eyes flicked briefly toward the girl stepping down.
She met his gaze for half a second.
Iris Vale.
She had pale hair tied neatly back, eyes clear and observant. Unlike others, she didn't smile. Her expression was thoughtful, almost concerned—as if she were already calculating outcomes.
When her name was announced, some students had clapped politely. Healers were respected. Needed. But they weren't heroes.
She walked past Auro and hesitated, just slightly.
"Good luck," she said quietly.
He inclined his head. "You too."
That was all.
The ceremony continued.
A student awakened a lightning-type ability. The crowd erupted. Faculty members leaned forward. Notes were taken.
Hierarchy solidified in real time.
By midday, the platform had seen dozens of awakenings.
And a few failures.
One boy stepped onto the platform.
Nothing happened.
The runes dimmed. The crystals remained silent.
The faculty member's voice was calm, practiced. "Non-awakened. Step down."
The boy's face went pale.
He stumbled off the platform, shoulders slumped, eyes unfocused. No one cheered. No one mocked him either.
It was worse than ridicule.
It was dismissal.
Auro watched him disappear into the administrative building, escorted by staff.
Discarded.
The word settled heavily.
By the time Auro's name was called, the sun had climbed high enough to burn away the mist. Heat shimmered faintly above the stone.
"Auro Cain."
The name echoed.
He stepped forward.
The crowd noise dimmed, not because he was important, but because he was unknown. No reputation. No rumors. Just another name on the list.
His boots met the platform.
Cold.
The obsidian surface absorbed heat, mana, sound. As he stood at the center, the runes beneath his feet pulsed once, then again.
Auro straightened his posture.
He had prepared for this day his entire life—not with fantasies of glory, but with discipline. If he awakened, he would serve. If he didn't, he would endure.
That was all.
The air thickened.
Mana flowed.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then—
Pain.
Not sharp. Not explosive.
It was subtle. Insidious.
A pressure behind his eyes, like fingers pressing inward. His breath hitched.
The runes flared—not blue, not red, but a sickly, muted purple.
The monitoring crystals vibrated.
Faculty members stiffened.
"Manifestation detected," one said slowly.
Auro clenched his jaw as something cold slithered through his veins.
Information flooded the crystals.
"Sleep Curse."
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
The purple light dimmed, then surged again.
"Paralysis Curse."
Gasps.
Auro's knees buckled for half a second before he forced himself upright.
Another surge.
"Weak Poison."
Silence.
Not the respectful silence of awe.
The wary silence of fear.
The runes flickered erratically now, as if unsure whether to continue.
Faculty members exchanged looks.
One of them spoke, voice tight. "Multiple curse-type skills. All active."
Auro felt it then.
Something inside him was… wrong.
Not broken. Not damaged.
Eaten.
Like time itself was being shaved away, grain by grain.
His heartbeat felt heavier. Each thud carried weight.
He breathed carefully, controlling the tremor in his hands.
From the edge of the platform, a device chimed—a diagnostic crystal calculating biological impact.
The result appeared in cold, hovering text.
Lifespan reduction detected.
Projected survivability: critical.
Someone swallowed audibly.
Auro stared forward, expression unchanged.
Inside, something old and deep stirred.
Not fear.
Recognition.
As the platform's light faded, a final flicker passed before his eyes.
Not from the academy.
Not from the crystals.
A translucent screen blinked into existence, visible to him alone.
White text on a dark void.
Unlabeled.
Unannounced.
Then—
It stabilized.
And for the first time since his birth, something within Auro Cain answered back.