Darjan leans back against a structural pillar, his eyes tracking a spar happening hundreds of feet below.
"Tell me this," Darjan says, his voice gravelly. "What did you feel when the change happened? In that garage. In the driveway. When you felt something off."
Luka looks down at his palms. He can still feel the faint, ghostly outlines of the 'static' flickering around his arms.
"It was... electric," Luka says, his voice steadying. "Like a surge. Like my blood was suddenly turned into a high-voltage wire. It hurt, but... it felt right. Like I was finally plugging into something."
"That's normal," Darjan nods.
"○Hmm, electric. Interesting."
"Well, as normal as it gets. To put it simply, what you're feeling in you is a form of energy."
A subtle pause.
"Every living thing in this world requires energy to function—from the cells in your lungs to the stars in the sky. What you woke up is that same fundamental force."
He turns to Luka, his expression unreadable.
"We call it Qzi. And you, Luka... you are now what we call an Awakened."
Luka stares at him in pure disbelief.
"○Qzi? Awakened? This sounds like a bad comic book. But then again, I did watch a guy bench-press the weight of a jeep five minutes ago."
"It's an extension of our latent ability as humans," Darjan continues, ignoring Luka's skepticism. "We weren't always this fragile. We used to all be Awakened, millennia ago. But the signal went dead for most of the species. Why? That's a story for a different time. The point is, Qzi exists in everyone, but only those who Awaken can use its potential."
Darjan walks toward Luka, his footsteps heavy.
"Qzi is just like the energy we use for physical movement. It utilizes the same molecule your body has used since you were a fetus–Adenosine Triphosphate, or for short ATP. The difference is that for a normal human, ATP is a slow-burn fuel for walking and breathing. For an Awakened, it's high-octane nitro. To truly start, you have to bypass the body's natural limiters. That's why you had to Awaken."
"ATP? Look man you are just speaking terms. I barely passed Biology. I don't understand a word you're saying. Can we skip the textbook and get to the part where I don't accidentally explode?" Luka says.
"If you want to live, the 'textbook' is your pulse. Pay attention." Darjan cuts back.
Luka frowns. "So my body is just... burning more fuel?"
"Generally speaking, Qzi is the most complex form of energy known to date. It's why your brain nearly fried itself in that driveway. Qzi functions as both Potential and Kinetic energy—and mastering the transition between the two, and than using it simultaneously is the difference between an Awakened and a corpse."
"So like boxing than, having your quard up and than throwing a punch right?" Luka with a hand on his chin.
"Not quite." Darjan says.
Darjan reaches around onto one of the high tech stalls, into the side.
He pulls out a sleek, matte-black 9mm handgun.
Luka's heart stops. The beeping of the invisible heart monitor in his head seems to flatline. He instinctively flinches, raising his hands, his knuckles turning white.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa! What are you doing with that!?" Luka yells, the panic returning to his voice.
"Keep quiet. Listen."
Darjan doesn't point the gun at Luka. He checks the chamber with a smooth click-clack, then points the barrel directly at his own chest, right over his heart.
"○Is this guy insane? He just got me out of the hospital, is he going to kill himself?"
"You want to understand Qzi?" Darjan asks. "Think of it like this."
He squeezes the trigger.
BANG—
The gunshot is deafening in the sudden quiet of the observation deck. Luka yells, the sound tearing from his throat, expecting to see Darjan's body drop to the glass.
Instead, the bullet makes a distinct, sharp metallic CLINK sound on the ground.
"○Did.. did this psycho just shoot himself?"
Luka stares, his eyes wide. The bullet didn't penetrate. It didn't even tear the black turtleneck. It hit Darjan's chest and simply flattened into a lead pancake, spinning on the glass floor. The fabric over Darjan's chest is unmarred.
"Stored energy," Darjan says, his voice flat, unbothered by the shot. "The 'Static.' That is Potential Qzi. When I lock my cells, the energy doesn't move. It packs together, creating an impenetrable force. My body becomes an immovable object. The bullet cannot transfer its energy to me because I have created a reservoir of resistance that absorbs the shock. This is the defensive use of qzi, enveloping your whole body around with qzi creating a layer of defense."
He puts the gun on the safety and casually drops it onto the floor.
"But Potential... Potential is just sitting. It's a bomb that hasn't gone off."
Darjan steps closer to Luka. His frame is immense, his presence staggering. He stands with perfect posture, completely motionless.
"And this... this is Kinetic Qzi. The 'Current'."
Darjan doesn't move. There is no shift in his stance, no deep breath.
Suddenly, Darjan launches a right cross. His fist stops an inch from Luka's nose.
Luka doesn't even have time to blink. To him, Darjan was still, and then his fist was just there. It happened in a micro-second, a blur that defied biology.
The fist doesn't hit him, but the air does.
WHOOSH—
A powerful, compressed rush of wind—the raw displacement of atmosphere caused by the punch—hits Luka full force. It's a physical blow, a sudden shockwave that hits his face and chest. The wind is so intense it whips his hair back.
Luka can't breathe. The sudden change in air pressure makes his ears pop, a painful, heavy sensation like diving too deep in a pool. The impact of the displaced air itself hurts, a deep thud against his sternum that leaves him coughing. He stumbles back, clutching his throat.
Darjan casually drops his hand, the wind stopping instantly.
"Kinetic Qzi is the transition," Darjan says, his chest not even rising or falling faster. "I take that stored ATP—that Potential energy—and I release it as motion and force. I convert the energy directly into speed and power. I for example am on the level where I can have the defensive layer running at all times while i amplify my physical capabilities. But for you, right now the problem is balance. You first have to learn them seperate, one by one and master them."
He steps back to the railing.
"Most Awakened at the beginning are Kinetic-dominant. Since a regular person simply does not have potential energy, we can always throw a punch or a kick creating motion. But when we get hit we can't defend ourselves, we just rely on our physical body and its durability alone."
Luka wipes a tear of air-displaced pressure from his eye, looking down at the Crucible again. He understands now why the sparing men looked like glitches in the Matrix.
"I see. I have to learn how to control them seperately first, than how to use them simultaneously," Luka whispers, his voice strained. "In a micro-second."
"Exactly. You turn Kinetic to move, and Potential to impact or absorb. We call it the Flicker," Darjan nods. "Right now, Luka, you have a massive reservoir of Potential. But you have no control over the valves. You need to learn how to control it."
Darjan picks up the flattened bullet from the glass floor, rolling the lead pancake between his thumb and forefinger before tossing it over the railing. It vanishes into the dizzying drop below.
"Listen," Darjan says, turning back to Luka. "Basic Qzi—mastering the toggle between Potential and Kinetic—is the fundamental of how you fight. It's the floor you stand on. There are even more intricate usages of basic Qzi, ways to compress it or leak it, but it's too early for me to tell you about that. You'd just be bombarded with information"
Luka rubs his chest, the phantom weight of the air-shove still lingering. "So there's a 'next thing'?"
"The Abilities," Darjan states. "Think of them as an extension of the basics. If Qzi is the engine of the car, an Ability is the specialized tool attached to it. A crane, a drill, a cannon. Each one is special. Each one is original."
Luka tilts his head. "So my ability depends on... what? My personality? My hobbies?"
Darjan lets out a short, dry breath that might have been a laugh. "No. That's the catch. An Awakened person will always have the same basic attributes as any other Awakened—we all use Potential and Kinetic energy. But for Abilities, it works much differently. They aren't bound by who you are. They're bound by luck."
"○Luck? My life has been sixteen years of 'Average.' I'm not exactly a lottery winner."
"You can have one ability, you can have two, three, or even more," Darjan continues, pacing the edge of the glass. "And usually, they have nothing to do with one another. They're completely random. It could range from anything–physical enhancements, telekinesis, spiritual manifestations, offensive, defensive, passive... it's a cosmic roll of the dice."
Luka's eyes widen as he looks down at the Crucible again, seeing a girl momentarily vanish into a shadow and reappear ten feet away. "So... that's the true power? That's what makes the difference?"
"In a sense, yes," Darjan says, stopping in front of Luka. His shadow looms large. "But an ability without mastered Qzi is just a fancy way to die faster. So, getting to the point... can you tell me what yours was?"
Luka freezes. He thinks back to the garage. The smell of burning rubber. The way his vision had turned into a strobe light of jagged white lines. The feeling of his heart trying to beat its way out of his ribs.
"I... I don't know," Luka whispers. He closes his eyes, trying to reach for that sensation again. "Everything was a blur. But I felt that electric current... like a thousand needles under my skin. And the sound... that static buzz."
Luka looks up at Darjan, a spark of hope in his eyes. "Maybe it's electricity? Like, I can throw lightning or something?"
Darjan stares at him for a long beat, his face a stone mask.
"Electricity," Darjan repeats slowly. He shakes his head, the corner of his mouth twitching. "No. That's just the flavor of your Qzi. It has nothing to do with an Ability."
Luka blinks, confused. "Flavor?"
"Each Awakened lives through and feels Qzi differently," Darjan explains, his voice steady. "For some, it's a searing hot sensation. For some, it's a bone-deep cold. Some say it feels like rocks grinding in their joints, or bugs crawling under their skin. That 'electric' buzzing? That's just your brain's way of processing the energy. It's the engine noise, not the car's specialized function."
Luka looks down at his hands, disappointed. "So... I'm not a human taser, aww man?"
"An Ability, on the other hand, is usually something specific that happens. Something that breaks the rules of basic physics even further." Darjan leans in, his eyes narrowed. "Think back. Did you perhaps put out fire from your hands?"
"Nope," Luka says.
"Then maybe your sight was enhanced? Did you see through walls? See heat signatures?"
"Nah, I don't think so," Luka mutters.
"What about flight? Did you feel the ground lose its grip on you?"
"No."
"Invisibility? Mind reading?"
"Nope. Nothing."
Darjan pulls back, crossing his massive arms. He stays silent for a long beat, his eyes scanning Luka as if he's a puzzle with a missing piece.
"Hmm. Interesting," Darjan says. "Well, Luka, I guess you're an interesting case. Usually, people manifest an Ability almost immediately upon Awakening. It seems you... just don't have one."
Luka's heart sinks. He feels a sudden, sharp pang of inadequacy. "○What? For real? So I'm just a freak among freaks?"
"Wait, wait," Luka says, his voice rising. "Are you saying I'm different? Or like... I'm weak? Is that it? I'm the one guy who gets the battery but no lightbulb?"
"No, not quite," Darjan replies, his expression unreadable.
"Then do you have one? An Ability?"
"Indeed," Darjan says simply.
"Okay, then how am I meant to know I don't have one? Maybe I just don't know how to use it yet. Maybe I'm a late bloomer," Luka argues, his frustration bubbling over. He's tired of being the only one in the dark.
Darjan doesn't argue. Instead, he steps closer, his shadow completely enveloping Luka.
"Hit me."
Luka freezes. "For real?"
"Yeah. Go ahead. Show me that 'Potential' you're so proud of. Hit me as hard as you can."
Luka hesitates, his fist trembling. He looks at Darjan's calm, smug face and feels a surge of genuine anger. He balls his hand into a tight knot, the static beginning to hum in his shoulder.
"Hey are you su—"
WHUMPP—
The words are knocked out of Luka's lungs. Before he can even finish the sentence, Darjan's fist is buried deep into the side of Luka's stomach. It isn't a blur; it's a heavy, crushing blow.
Luka hits the glass floor hard.
"AGHH!" He gasps, curling into a ball as agonizing pain radiates from his midsection. It feels like a sledgehammer just tried to exit through his spine.
Darjan doesn't offer a hand. He simply stands there, looking down at the boy gasping for air. Then, he starts to walk away slowly toward the center of the deck.
"Lesson number one: Never let your guard down," Darjan says, his back to Luka. "In a real fight, I just killed you. And lesson number two: When I tell you that you can do something, it means you can. You were too busy worrying about what you don't have, to realize I gave you an opening."
The pain in Luka's gut turns into a white-hot flame of rage. He ignores the throbbing in his ribs, pushes off the glass, and scrambles to his feet.
"You... bastard!"
Luka charges. He doesn't think. He doesn't calculate. He just throws his entire weight into a desperate, swinging haymaker aimed right at the back of Darjan's head.
SWISH—
Luka's fist moves through the air with a whistle. It connects with Darjan's skull—or it should have.
Instead, Luka's hand passes completely through Darjan's head as if he were made of smoke. There's no impact. No resistance.
Luka's momentum carries him forward, his feet tangling as he almost tumbles over his own swing. He barely catches himself on the railing.
He spins around, eyes wide, breath hitching. Darjan is still standing there. He hasn't moved a muscle. He looks perfectly solid, perfectly real.
"○What just happened? Did I miss? No, I definitely - "
SLAM—
The heavy pneumatic doors to the observation deck bust open, the sound cutting Luka off mid-thought. A man in a dark utility vest sprints onto the deck, his face flushed with urgency.
"Darjan! What are you doing up here?" the man yells. "It's time for the Selections! C'mon, let's go. The Elites are already seated!"
Darjan sighs, he looks at Luka, who is still staring at his own hand in horror.
"See?" Darjan says, his voice dropping back to that professional drone. "I told you. That is an Ability."