"It's been over two weeks now, and Uncle Noah still hasn't come back." Nova murmured to himself. "And tomorrow is the day."
He stood in the yard outside the house, bathed in the golden-orange glow of the setting sun. The evening light spilled across his face and shimmered in his emerald-green eyes as if the sunset itself had settled there. In his hands, he held half a loaf of bread, tearing off small pieces absentmindedly and scattering them across the ground. Within moments, pigeons crowding at his feet pecking the crumbs.
Since the day he arrived, he had noticed how the pigeons gathered at dusk, filling the sky with soft, restless motion. It became his quiet ritual that each evening he would bring a loaf of bread to the yard and toss pieces onto the earth, watching as the birds descended to feed, their gentle coos blending with the fading light. It wasn't anything special just a small habit he had picked up over the past two weeks.
"Alright," Nova muttered, flicking the last crust of bread into the air.
The birds descended in a frenzy of wings and sharp cries, their feathers flashing silver in the late amber light. The moment he stepped back and the door sealed behind him with a muted hiss, the flock scattered as if some invisible switch had been thrown. Silence swallowed the yard.
Inside, the house adjusted to his presence. Panels along the corridor brightened to a soft indigo glow, tracking his movement. The air cooled by a fraction. Nova exhaled slowly and turned toward the training room. It was time for the evening meditation.
His mood changes slightly the thought of the evenings meditation. Morning runs were simple. Flesh and breath. Afternoon combat drills were sweats and sharp sounds of swords cutting through air. The pain was worth it as he grew stronger everytime, But meditation?
Evening meditation was war.
The training room door slid open with a soft at his approach. The interior was a seamless sphere of matte white alloy, veins of dim circuitry pulsing faintly beneath. As he stepped inside, the door dissolved into the wall behind him.
"Evening sequence initiated," the training bot voice intoned calm, toneless and inhuman as Nova walked in.
Nova rolled his shoulders and moved to the center circle etched into the floor. People always imagined meditation as something gentle, crossed legs, soft humming, thoughts drifting like clouds.
They were wrong. This meditation was training for a better focus. So, he had to stay focused for ten minutes under different hyper-realistic scenarios in the room, such as focusing as if he were on a bus moving on bumpy roads or in a loud environment filled with different noises.
The lights dimmed to black. At once, the room ignited not with light, but with fire. Flames erupted like a raging storm. The temperature of the room began to rise. Over time, beads of sweat occasionally dropped from his face. But his expression remained calm.
"I had a feeling today was going to be flames." Nova said inwardly. His pulse spiked.
The implant fed the room his neural activity, and the room fed it back magnified, doubling the flames.
"Damnit"
"Mental cohesion dropping," the robot said observantly monitoring Nova.
Nova clenched his jaw. The flames grew stronger again, and he was now finding it hard to maintain his focus.
This training was essential, especially when it came to reading the text etched across the walls at the entrance of the God's Ruins. Fully understanding the inscription required intense concentration. Those who were able to comprehend it earned the Channeler's Mark.
He lowered himself to the floor, crossing his legs despite the chaos. His hands rested on his knees. He did not hum. He breathed.
In.
The flames seemed to increase as though a gallon of petrol had been added.
Out... In... Out.
Sweat beaded along his temples. His heart hammered like it wanted out of his chest. Every instinct told him to stand, to fight, to run.
He did none of those things.
He focused.
Slowly, the storm thinned. "Mental cohesion stabilizing." The training bot voice echoed then after some hours "Training complete," the training bot announced.
Nova slowly opened his eyes to darkness and silence. A small smile couldn't help escape his lips as this was the last day of his training.
After wiping the sweat of his face he went to kitchen prepared a meal for himself. With his survival training his cooking was atleast decent enough to be edible. As soon as he finished the food, he headed to the to his room.
On his way, the watch on his wrist suddenly vibrated. He glanced down t the glowing screen he saw it was Noah calling. He tapped on the screen and a faint holographic image of Noah flickered to life, materializing above the watch.
"Nova I'll be back this evening. Keep the door unlocked," Noah said.
"Okay... but I thouhgt you were suppose to be back last week."
Noah exhaled. "I didn't expect things to drag on at the God's Ruins."
Noah an adventurer. People with the Channeler's Mark had only two path to choose either join the MPU'S Military climbing the ranks or be an adventurer selling things found in God's Ruins for money.
Jova hesitated. "Uncle Noah...?"
Noah immediately knew what he wanted to ask; it was definitely be about he God's Ruins, so before he could finish what he about to say, Noah cut in "Later Nova," his tone turning distant. The hologram flickered as he reached to disconnect.
"Wait... Uncl-huh" The projection vanished mid word.
Nova lowered his wrist slowly, the room falling quiet again. He sighed and turned toward his bedroom,
•••
Across the Central sect all he way down to the Third Sect in the MPU, nearly half of the planet within them seemed to pulse with life.
The skies of several planets where filled with large screens and towers that usually projected trade data and military broadcasts now displayed a single image, an immense stone gateway standing on a floating island across space, beneath a bruised, restless sky.
Today was Awakening Day.
It was not a festival, no fireworks, no parade but billions of people watched. From the industrial planets, commercial planets, agricultural planets, institutional planets and residence planets in the MPU watched. Some public squares were filled and families gathered before floating panels of light in the room. And those without the Channeler's Mark watched the most. They always did.
They would never be permitted beyond the outer perimeter of the God's Ruins. The restriction was absolute. No Mark, no entry. Because even going there without the Mark you can never enter the portal at the God's Ruin. So for many, this broadcast was the closest they would ever come to standing before the threshold of divinity.
Nova stood at the door of the house looking confused. "Where's Uncle Noah? From the looks of it he came home yesterday so why didn't he come see me off?"
Seeing no signs of Noah he decided to leave before he arrived late. As Nova stepped out of the cabs he was greeted by a more bustling city even bigger than last time. He carefully made his way to the STT station.
He stepped inside.
The air carried the faint metallic scent of charged particles. "Destination Central Sect. MPU Transfer Gate." A pause. "Thank you for boarding Xways express and have a wonderful day."
The train rode along the rails and went straght into the circular layered rings of light. Teleport pads lined it body like luminous discs waiting to swallow. The whole gnited in pale white radiance. Space folded not violently, but smoothly, like fabric drawn through an invisible needle. For a fraction of a second, his body felt neither heavy nor light.
Then, the Central Sect. The heart of the MPU. Nova stepped out of the STT and walked towards a certain direction. After some minutes of walking he arrived at a large building. God's Ruins Transfer Complex. This word was etched on the building even from afar one could clearly see it.
He also caught glimpses of crowds gathering below, many headed in the same direction. By the time the he arrived, the scale of the event became clear. Reporters, hundreds of them.
Hover drones buzzed overhead. Microphones extended like metallic vines. Cameras pivoted sharply at the sight of every candidate stepping out of transport.
"Woah there are a lot of them" Nova muttered. Seeing all the reporters.
Nova knew if any of the reporters caught sight of him, they would definitely bombard him with a lot of questions about things like how he became the overall champion of Planet Herya despite being a lower human, the skill he would love to pick, and sometimes unrelated matters like his personal life and he definitely didn't want that.
He took a breath. "This is nothing," he told himself. "I trained for worse. Fire storms. Neural overload. Hallucinations. This? This is easy."
He angled his body, adjusted his gait, and slipped between two camera crews with practiced subtlety. A reporter turned, but too late. Nova smirked inwardly.
"See? Flawless." He slid behind a pillar, timed his movement with a shifting crowd, and crossed the outer security barrier without so much as a glance. "I might be overqualified for stealth," he thought.
That was when he felt it.
A gaze.
Sharp. Assessing. Not civilian.
Across the plaza, a woman lowered her microphone slowly. She seemed to sense something. Her eyes were not those of someone searching for a headline. They were like a heat-seeking missiles.
Former military?
Nova realized too late. Not everyone remained an Adventurer or Military personnel. Some had left the army. Some had abandoned adventuring. Not because they were weak, but because they had seen enough.
The woman's eyes shifted not to Nova, but to the person beside him. His breath caught. He thought she was looking at him directly.
The woman patted her cameraman and dashed straight to where Nova was.
"It seems I need more training," Nova bolted.
"... There!" Voices rose behind him. From the corner of his eye, he saw they were after another candidate and not him. But just to be safe, he continued running until he reached the interior checkpoint.
"Phew." He wiped a hand across his face, not to remove sweat, but to erase the moment.