Springvale City Awakening Center.
Morning light filtered through the massive glass dome, casting pale reflections across the stone plaza below.
The hall was already awake.
A low murmur rolled through the vast space, thousands of voices overlapping into a restless hum. Youths filled the plaza shoulder to shoulder, boys and girls between seventeen and nineteen, their faces carrying the same mix of anticipation and unease. Some whispered excitedly to friends. Others stood stiff and silent, palms damp, eyes fixed forward.
Today was Awakening Day.
A single ceremony that would decide their standing in a world ruled by power.
For over a century, Novara had not been the same.
The change had come without warning.
Floods swallowed cities overnight. Earthquakes split continents. Storms raged across lands that had never known rain. It felt like the end of the world, a chain of disasters so sudden and overwhelming that humanity braced for extinction.
Yet strangely, not a single human life was lost during that first catastrophe.
Confusion followed curiosity.
Then the monsters came.
Creatures torn straight from myth and nightmare emerged across the globe. Beasts that should not exist rampaged through cities and countryside alike. And as panic spread, every human received the same message, burned into their heads like the heavens verdict.
Their world had been chosen.
Chosen by an unknown entity called the Origin Will.
The tutorial of their world had begun.
That was when true disaster struck.
The monsters attacked without mercy. Humanity, barely recovered from the natural calamities, was caught completely unprepared. Within the first week, half the world's population was wiped out.
Despair settled like a suffocating fog.
Humanity tried fighting back with everything it had. Guns. Missiles. Nuclear weapons.
All of it failed.
Firearms jammed. Missiles refused to launch. Explosives lay dormant, as harmless as metal scraps. Every advantage humanity once held was stripped away in an instant, as if the world itself had rejected their methods.
The monsters advanced.
Cities fell.
Hope thinned.
Then, during the darkest hours, the first awakeners appeared.
Humans who had awakened by accident during the tutorial. Individuals granted power beyond ordinary limits. With them, the monsters were finally held back.
But there were too few.
Their strength slowed the tide, but it could not turn it. Against endless hordes of abominations, even superhumans bled and died.
Years passed.
Humanity learned.
Awakening methods were refined. Knowledge was accumulated through blood and sacrifice. Slowly, a new era was born.
The Age of Awakening.
From that point on, every human between the ages of seventeen and nineteen was granted a chance to awaken their latent power. One attempt per year. Three chances in total.
Fail all three, and the door would close forever.
As awakeners multiplied, humanity gathered its strength. The Great War followed. Another dark age marked by loss, suffering, and uncountable deaths.
But in the end, humanity prevailed.
The beasts were pushed back.
Ten Safe Zones were established across the globe. Lands of peace carved from a hostile world, protected by awakened warriors. Civilization stabilized. Life continued.
Yet danger never truly vanished.
Beyond the Safe Zones lay lands still ruled by beasts. And above all, there was the Primordial Island. A mysterious realm accessible only to awakened individuals. A place of endless opportunity, danger, and brutal competition between humanity and other races that walked the same path.
Because of that, the birth of new awakeners still mattered.
Power still mattered.
And so, every year, awakening ceremonies were held across the cities.
Springvale City was no exception.
Parents watched anxiously. Friends whispered prayers. Siblings clasped their hands together.
As for the youths standing in the plaza, their nerves were written plainly across their faces.
Awakening was still random.
Talent followed no bloodline. Heroes did not guarantee heirs. Failure did not care about legacy.
And that truth weighed heavily on one young man standing near the edge of the crowd.
Leo.
Nineteen years old.
His long, rough black hair hung unkempt, falling over his face as if deliberately hiding it from the world. One tired green eye peeked through the strands, dulled by exhaustion rather than age. Beneath the mess, his features were refined and well-proportioned. Handsome, by any honest standard.
He just didn't care.
If his hair could hide him completely, he would welcome it.
If he could disappear, even for today, he would.
Leo had been born to legends.
His mother was a famed blade awakener, once known for a sword that could cleave through almost anything. His father had been even more renowned. A summoner, commanding terrifying monsters beneath his will.
Nineteen years ago, on the very day Leo was born, a dungeon break occurred near their home.
A guild's carelessness unleashed a monster horde upon the city.
His father joined the defense.
He never came back.
Fighting until the end, he gave his life to protect the city and its people.
A martyr.
A hero destined to be remembered for a time, then forgotten like so many others.
Except fate had twisted the story.
At the exact moment the hero fell, a new life entered the world.
Leo's birth turned tragedy into spectacle.
People whispered about destiny. About inheritance. About whether the son of a hero would surpass his father. Curiosity clung to him like a curse.
From childhood onward, his life was never his own.
When he fought other children, elders blamed him. A hero's son should know better, they said. He should be stronger. Kinder. Greater.
He hated them for it.
And deep down, he hated his father too.
If only he had retreated. If only he had chosen himself. Maybe then Leo wouldn't have lived a life suffocated by expectation and judgment.
The people his father saved became the very reason Leo resented him.
The irony was bitter.
As he grew older, nothing changed.
Every failure was magnified. Every mediocrity condemned. He simply wasn't talented enough to meet the world's expectations.
Now, at nineteen, standing here after failing two awakening ceremonies, he was nothing more than confirmation of their disappointment.
He lowered his head slightly, wishing to blend into the crowd.
It didn't work.
A group of girls nearby noticed him.
Their whispers were not subtle.
"Hey… isn't that him?"
Several heads turned.
Despite his attempts to hide, his presence was unmistakable.
"Yeah. It's really him."
"Leonardo Spades."
"The trash son of the hero."
Leo's jaw tightened.
"What's he doing here again?"
"What do you mean? He's here to awaken."
"I know that. But this is his third time, right?"
A soft laugh followed.
"If it were me, I wouldn't even show my face after staining my father's legacy like that."
Leo clenched his teeth.
He understood exactly what they meant.
Failing once meant low potential. Failing twice meant barely a flicker.
It meant untalented.
The girls laughed as if his life were nothing more than casual entertainment.
"What does it matter?" one of them said dismissively. "He's known for being thick-skinned."
"Yeah. Why focus on trash on such a happy day?"
"I don't want his bad luck rubbing off on me. Look what it did to his dad."
More laughter.
Then, just like that, they turned away, shifting their attention back to the awakening ceremony.
As if he no longer existed.
Leo exhaled slowly.
It hurt.
But he preferred this to being the center of attention.
At least now, they would forget him again.
Just then, the murmur in the hall grew louder.
The plaza stirred.
Energy rippled faintly through the air as the awakening arrays began to activate.
The ceremony was about to begin.