Year 2005.
It began on a night that should have been ordinary.
The sky above Earth tore open with light — an otherworldly glow spilling across continents. Fwoooosh! The heavens pulsed like molten glass, and for a brief moment, night itself vanished. Cities, villages, rivers, and mountains bathed in brilliance brighter than day. Shadows disappeared. Even time seemed to stop.
Across the world, people froze mid-step.
In Dhaka, traffic ground to a halt as drivers climbed out of rickshaws and buses, their eyes drawn upward. In New York, neon lights flickered under the overpowering glow. In Tokyo, the streets gleamed like silver. From the mangroves of the Sundarbans to the deserts of Africa, every gaze turned toward the heavens.
Gasps filled the air.
"Ooooh!"
"Aaah!"
Children cried, dogs barked, bells rang. Humanity stood in collective awe.
Then—silence.
The light slowly faded, swallowed once more by the endless dark.
But something had changed.
Men and women clutched their chests, hearts pounding. Some felt heat surge through their veins; others trembled as drops of water formed on their fingertips, sparks danced across their palms, or shadows bent unnaturally at their feet. Power—raw and incomprehensible—had taken root within them.
From that night forward, humanity was no longer ordinary.
The weak grew strong.
The powerless awakened.
It was the night Earth stepped into a new era—The Era of the Awakened.
***
Year 2025.
Two decades later, the world had grown used to power.
Heroes, villains, hunters, guilds—all born from the Awakening.
But even after twenty years, not everyone was blessed.
Inside Cumilla Modern High School, cruel laughter echoed off the tiled washroom walls.
BAM!
A heavy body slammed against the wall, cracking tiles with a sharp crunch! before sliding down onto the wet floor. The boy groaned, breath ragged as pain rippled through his ribs.
His name was Johan Navraan, sixteen, round-faced, soft-bodied—an easy target.
Dust drifted from the cracked wall. Water dripped from a leaking tap. The air stank of bleach and mildew.
Footsteps approached. Tap. Tap. Tap.
The boy who had kicked him—tall, lean, eyes gleaming with cruelty—stood above him. His name was Logan, and among bullies, that name carried weight. He tilted his head, smirking at the sight of Johan struggling to breathe.
"Stand up, pig."
The words cut through the air sharper than a slap.
Johan's fingers twitched against the wet tiles. His body trembled, but he still tried to push himself up.
The moment he managed to stand—
THUD!
Logan's boot slammed into his stomach. Air burst from Johan's lungs in a choking gasp. "Ghhhk!" He doubled over, clutching his belly, eyes wide with pain.
Logan leaned close, his voice dripping venom.
"Didn't I tell you to bring something tasty for me? Man, your mom really sucks at cooking, doesn't she?"
Hahahahaha!
Laughter exploded in the cramped washroom. Boys slapped their thighs, some doubling over, their jeers bouncing off the tiled walls. Their laughter was louder than the dripping tap, louder than Johan's ragged breathing.
Johan's fingers scraped against the grimy floor as his face twisted in shame.
Logan smirked, feeding off their laughter like a predator savoring the kill.
There was nothing Johan could do.
In this world, almost everyone had awakened—some commanded fire, some controlled wind, some summoned lightning. But not all were chosen. Some were left behind, powerless and fragile.
Johan's family was one of them.
In a society ruled by the awakened, the powerless lived like shadows—surviving at the mercy of the strong. From the start, weakness was a sentence. And for Johan, that sentence meant enduring.
Thud. Crack.
The fists, the kicks, the laughter—he endured them every day.
Pain had become routine.
Humiliation, his daily meal.
There was no choice but to endure.
And yet, there was another reason he suffered more than most—
His body.
Round, heavy, slow. To his classmates, it was all the excuse they needed. His weight made him a target, something to mock, something to break. Their words hurt more than their fists, their laughter heavier than their kicks.
So Johan endured—powerless, fat, and alone.
Eventually, the laughter faded. Footsteps and voices drifted away until only the steady drip of the tap remained.
***
Later that day, Johan found himself standing alone on the school rooftop.
The sky above Cumilla Modern High School was the color of dull steel, heavy clouds pressing low. From up there, he could see the streets below—rickshaws crawling like ants, the tide of life moving endlessly on.
He stood at the edge, fingers curling around the rusted railing. The wind hissed past his ears—whoooosh—whipping his hair across his face. Bruises throbbed beneath his shirt, but the pain felt far away now.
He stared into the gray distance and whispered,
"So… it's come to this, huh?"
His words vanished into the wind. He closed his eyes.
Then Johan stepped forward.
Clack.
His shoe left the edge.
The rooftop fell away, and the world tilted. The air tore past him, cold and sharp as needles. Fwoooosh! The ground rushed to meet him.
In that fleeting moment, a single thought echoed like a prayer—fragile, trembling.
I'm sorry, Mother. I'm really sorry. This coward son of yours is leaving you alone in this cruel world.
Darkness closed in. His chest felt like it was tearing apart.
It hurts. It really hurts.
But even so… I don't want to live in that world anymore.
This world is so cruel…
I just want to disappear from this world...
The black swallowed everything.
And then—
A soundless chime. Ding.
Inside the void, a panel of pure white light unfurled before his fading consciousness, golden letters burning across it.
[ YOU HAVE AWAKENED THE LIMITLESS SYSTEM. ]