"Stay still." Mary frowned, her brown eyes sharp as always.
"I am still." Michael rubbed his ribs slowly, wincing a little.
"You're twitching."
"That's because your hands are cold."
Mary didn't answer. A soft blue glow spread from her palms, touching his bruised ribs and split lip. Pain eased almost instantly. Cuts closed, swelling diminished. Michael thought it was unfair. She made it look too easy, like he should have had the same luck.
"All done." Mary stepped back, letting the glow fade.
Michael flexed his fingers and blinked at them. "You make it look too easy."
"I've been doing this a long time," Mary said, smirking faintly. "U as
Michael nodded. He thought about how humans had to categorize everything now. Paths to classify abilities, ranks to compare strength, names for the Obsidian — everything. Creation for healing, water, support; Destruction for fire, lightning, attack; and others, some powers that didn't fit anywhere yet,most of these powers were just classified under utility.
The strength of the awakened,and his overall ability to use his or her awakened powers also had ranks: Bio, Arel, Advancer, Expert, Breacher, and Supreme.
Most awakened joined the military eventually. Its leader, Varian, was a Supreme — as strong as Catastrophic-class Obsidian and able to take down several at once.
The Obsidian themselves had ranks too: Basic, Medif, Savage, Rampage, Legendary, Catastrophic. Michael thought about all the names humans had invented. Labels to survive. He pressed his hand against the wall beside him, thinking: And I have nothing.
Michael leaned back, staring at the cracked ceiling. Everyone around him had a Path, a rank, something to rely on not him.He had Nothing, except his fists,Mary and a few friends.
Mary had awakened at fifteen just like the rest of almost every human.
Blue light around her hands, wounds closing, bruises fading. She was a healer, Creation Path.She left the orphanage they both grew up in and joined the millitary.
Hospital shifts, emergency assignments, night contracts — all so Michael could have a place to stay, go to school, have a normal life.
Michael's chest tightened. He felt guilty. What had he done to deserve someone like her?
Mary's phone rang.
She glanced at it, then signed.
"I guess I'm going to be needed.Im heading to the hospital they need me," Mary said, voice calm but tense.
"Already?" Michael said, disappointment prickling in his stomach.
"They're short on healers again. I have to go." Mary slipped on her jacket.
"…Can't you stay tonight?"
Michael asked. He tried to keep his tone casual, but the longing in his chest made it sound heavy.
Mary shook her head. "You know I can't. People need me there."
Michael forced a small smile. "Yeah. Of course." Inside, he felt lonely. He hated that feeling.
She paused at the door, ruffling his hair gently, the motion comforting. "Lock the door after me. Don't get into trouble."
"No promises," Michael muttered.He wished she could stay.
"Michael."
"…Fine. I won't be heading out."
The door clicked shut. Silence fell over the apartment. The faint hum of the ceiling fan was the only sound.
Michael lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Everyone had awakened, even kids younger than him. Classmates, neighbors, strangers on the street. Everyone had a Path. Everyone had something to rely on.
And he had nothing.
No Path. No rank. No ability.
His fist clenched against the blanket. Frustration burned in his chest.
"…Damn it," he muttered. Why didn't I awaken? Why me?
He thought back to the orphanage. Michael was three. Mary was four. She had stolen his bread on the first day. He had cried for ten minutes. She had split it in half and handed it back. That was how they met.
They had stuck together ever since. Shared meals. Shared blankets. Shared trouble. Shared punishments. Shared every small victory and defeat.
Both were inseparable and shared a siblings bond.
Then Mary awakened at fifteen. Blue light surrounded her hands. She left for training almost immediately. He thought she would forget him.
But she came back for him. She found this apartment. Worked multiple jobs. Hospital shifts, military contracts, emergency runs. All to make sure Michael survived.
And he? He got by on odd jobs, small street fights, and whatever he could scrape together. It wasn't much, but it was all he had.
Michael let out a long sigh, curling up slightly on the bed. He stared at the ceiling, counting the cracks, the faint stains from old water damage, anything to distract himself from the emptiness inside.
Still nothing. He thought bitterly. No Path. No rank. No ability. Nothing to rely on.
The apartment felt too quiet, too small, too empty. Outside, the sounds of the city carried faintly through the cracked window — the hum of cars, footsteps, voices shouting somewhere far away. Life moved on without him, and he was left behind.
Michael's fingers dug into the blanket. His teeth gritted. "…Damn it," he whispered again. Why me?
The blue glow of Mary's hands lingered in his memory. Soft, warm, always fixing what was broken. Always there for him.
And yet… he had nothing.
He was left behind by a majority of the world.