The apartment was silent.
Too silent.
No footsteps in the hallway.
No coughing from the kitchen.
No familiar voice telling him to eat properly.
He sat alone on the cold floor, back against the wall, staring at nothing.
His uncle was gone.
Just like his parents.
The room still smelled faintly of cheap coffee and old books. His uncle's jacket was draped over a chair. He hadn't had the strength to move it.
His fingers slowly curled into fists.
"I'm alone again…"
His voice sounded distant, like it didn't belong to him.
Images replayed in his mind.
The Rift tearing open.
People screaming.
His uncle standing in front of him.
That final moment.
His breathing grew uneven.
His chest tightened.
"I should've been stronger."
His nails dug into his palms.
"If I had awakened… if I had power…"
His body began to shake.
Tears fell silently onto the floor.
"I could've saved you…"
Something changed.
At first, it was subtle.
A pressure built deep inside his chest—not painful, not warm. It felt heavy. Dense.
Like something ancient had opened its eyes.
The air around him seemed to bend.
His heartbeat slowed.
His tears stopped mid-fall.
He gasped as a strange sensation spread through his body, crawling through his veins like cold fire.
He clutched his chest.
"What… is this…?"
There was no light.
No glowing symbols.
No surge of Universe Energy like the Hunters used.
Instead, shadows along the walls stretched unnaturally.
The room darkened.
Not because the lights went out—
but because something was absorbing the light.
Inside his mind, he felt it.
A presence.
Silent.
Bottomless.
Not a gift from the gods.
Not something meant for humans.
His vision blurred as unfamiliar knowledge flooded into him—fragments, instincts, whispers without sound.
He collapsed forward, coughing.
Then everything went still.
He woke up hours later on the floor.
His clothes were soaked with sweat.
His body felt different.
Not stronger.
Not lighter.
Just… deeper.
He slowly pushed himself up.
The room looked normal again.
No shadows.
No pressure.
No strange presence.
He checked his hands.
Still human.
Still ordinary.
Had it been a hallucination?
A stress-induced breakdown?
He didn't know.
But something inside him told him the truth.
He had awakened.
Just not in a way anyone would recognize.
The next morning, he stood in front of the small memorial photo placed on the table.
His uncle smiled in the picture.
Kind.
Tired.
Proud.
He bowed his head.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
"I was weak."
His hands trembled.
Then they steadied.
He lifted his head, eyes burning with quiet resolve.
"I won't let it happen again."
He clenched his fists.
"I don't care what kind of power this is."
"I don't care if the gods never chose me."
His voice was calm.
Dead calm.
"I'll become strong."
"I'll kill every Rift Monster I find."
"And I'll make sure no one else loses their family like I did."
The room didn't answer..