Alex learned the lesson on a street he passed every day.
It wasn't a dangerous street. Just narrow, busy, and loud—lined with repair shops, food stalls, and a small training yard maintained by the city for low-rank awakeners. People practiced there after work, half for fitness, half for pride.
Alex usually ignored it.
Today, he didn't.
A crowd had gathered.
Not large—maybe two dozen people—but dense, the way curiosity compresses space. Voices overlapped, excited, impressed.
Alex slowed.
In the center of the training yard stood a boy no older than fifteen.
He was lean, sharp-eyed, clothes worn thin at the elbows. Sweat plastered dark hair to his forehead as he caught his breath, chest heaving. Across from him lay three older men—groaning, stunned, one clutching his ribs.
F-rank.
All of them.
The boy hadn't used mana explosively. Alex could see that immediately. No flares, no obvious enhancement.
Control.
Clean strikes.
Too clean.
"That kid's good," someone muttered nearby.
"Too good," another replied.
Alex's jaw tightened.
The boy straightened as a man in a fine coat stepped forward, flanked by two guards. Not nobles—merchant class, maybe guild-affiliated. Still power.
"Well done," the man said pleasantly. "Very impressive."
The boy flushed, pride flickering across his face before he could hide it.
"Thank you, sir."
"What's your name?"
"Lio."
Alex exhaled slowly.
A name given freely.
"What rank are you, Lio?" the man asked.
"F—low," the boy replied, a little sheepish.
The man's eyebrows rose. "At your age?"
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"Exceptional," the man continued. "Have you considered formal training?"
Lio hesitated. "I—can't afford—"
"Nonsense," the man interrupted gently. "Talent like yours shouldn't waste itself."
Alex felt the trap closing.
"I represent a private sponsor," the man went on. "We provide lodging, instruction, equipment. In exchange, you work for us when needed. Simple."
Lio's eyes shone.
"What kind of work?" he asked.
The man smiled.
"Appropriate to your abilities."
Alex's fingers curled.
(He does not know what that means,) Chaos said.
"No," Alex agreed. "He doesn't."
A woman at the edge of the crowd spoke up. "Isn't that indenture?"
The man turned, still smiling. "Only in the most technical sense."
Alex watched Lio's expression shift—hope tangling with uncertainty.
"But you'd be strong," the man pressed. "Recognized. Safe."
Safe.
Alex almost laughed.
"What if I say no?" Lio asked quietly.
The man's smile didn't falter—but his eyes cooled.
"Then someone else will notice," he said. "And they may not be as generous."
Silence.
The boy swallowed.
"I… I'll think about it."
"Of course," the man said, nodding. "We'll be nearby."
He stepped back, guards following, and the crowd slowly dispersed.
Lio remained standing in the yard, alone now, staring at his hands.
Alex didn't approach.
He didn't need to.
The lesson was complete.
He walked away, footsteps steady, heart cold.
"That's why," he said quietly. "That's why you don't show talent."
{Observation logged.}
The system's voice was subdued.
"They didn't see a person," Alex continued. "They saw a resource."
{Assessment: Accurate.}
He turned down a side street, away from the noise.
"Gifted at the wrong time," Alex said. "At the wrong rank."
{Clarification: Visibility increases exploitation probability.}
"Yes," Alex said. "Exponentially."
Chaos stirred, displeased.
(In my time, power was taken by force,) the dragon said. (This is… cleaner. Worse.)
Alex nodded.
"They don't chain you immediately," he said. "They offer help. Opportunity. Safety."
He stopped walking.
"And once you accept—"
{Autonomy decreases.}
"Until you're owned," Alex finished.
The system was quiet for a moment.
{Strategic choice detected.}
Alex resumed moving.
"Mediocrity," he said. "On purpose."
{Clarification requested.}
"Staying unremarkable," Alex replied. "Strong enough to survive. Weak enough to ignore."
{Threat avoidance confirmed.}
He smiled faintly.
"Say it plainly."
{Threat Avoidance + Intelligence.}
Alex chuckled softly.
"Good. At least you understand."
That night, during training, he pulled back.
Not much—but deliberately.
He dulled his movements. Let inefficiencies remain. Stopped short of visible mastery.
The system noticed immediately.
{Efficiency regression detected.}
"Intentional," Alex said.
{Reasoning acknowledged.}
Chaos watched silently.
Alex practiced knife work sloppily, letting mistakes linger just long enough to be believable. He misjudged distances by fractions, corrected too late, allowed his breathing to roughen.
Any observer would see competence.
Not brilliance.
Not promise.
Just another F-rank trying to improve.
He sheathed the blade and sat.
"I won't be him," Alex said quietly.
(The boy?) Chaos asked.
"Yes," Alex replied. "I won't let them see what I can become."
(They will eventually,) the dragon said. (Power leaks.)
Alex's eyes hardened.
"Then I'll choose when."
The system spoke once more before falling silent.
{Long-term survival probability increased.}
Alex lay back, staring at the ceiling.
In another life, he might have been Lio.
Bright.
Visible.
Consumed.
Here, now, he chose differently.
Not because he lacked ambition—
But because he understood the cost of being seen.
And until he turned sixteen—
Until the world forced his hand—
Alex would remain exactly what he appeared to be.
Nothing special at all.