A chubby boy sprinted through the school halls, breath ragged, shoes slapping loudly against the filthy floor.
Anyone watching could tell the place hadn't been cleaned in years. Dirt clung to every surface. Trash, plastic bottles, and torn wrappers littered the ground, and streaks of dried biological fluid stained the walls like scars. The air was thick—stale enough to make his chest burn with every inhale.
After several sharp turns and near-collisions, the boy skidded to a halt in front of a classroom door.
Room 50B.
Without hesitation, he shoved it open.
At the front of the room stood a woman frozen mid-lecture, chalk still poised between her fingers. Her eyes locked onto him instantly.
"Even on the final day, you're still late," she said flatly. "I expected more than that, Riven."
"Sorry, Mrs. Macon, I was just—"
"Just take your seat," she cut in. "Next to your brother. You know—the one who actually arrived on time."
A few quiet snickers rippled through the room.
Riven winced and hurried down the aisle. The desks were arranged in four neat rows. He slid into the empty seat in the second row beside a boy who looked almost exactly like him.
Same face.
Same eyes.
Completely different build.
Where Riven was soft and round, his twin was lean and well-toned. Brown hair neatly combed, uniform spotless, posture straight. He looked like someone who had everything under control.
As Mrs. Macon turned back to the board, the brown-haired boy leaned slightly closer.
"I'm guessing you got the game."
Riven answered with a quiet grin and a thumbs-up.
"Of course. And since I was one of the first in line, I even got a discount."
He reached into his bag and carefully pulled out a small box.
Legend of the Evolver.
The open-world, online bandit-beater that had taken the world by storm when it first released. Riven had been excited back then—until reality slapped him in the face.
As a Wallborn, the game only became available inside the Walls a full year later. By the time he finally got his hands on it, most players were already veterans.
"You know you won't really have time to play," the boy said quietly, eyes still forward so the teacher wouldn't notice. "Not with what's coming next year."
"Yeah, yeah, I know," Riven whispered back. "The Academy. But we've got four months. I'll squeeze in some fun."
The boy beside him was Jordan—his twin brother. Same birthday, same blood, but anyone could see the difference. Riven's black hair stuck out in uneven clumps, like he'd rolled straight out of bed and left without checking a mirror. Jordan, on the other hand, looked composed. Polished.
Mrs. Macon cleared her throat.
"Now," she announced, "we all know what comes after these next four months. You'll be attending the Academy for your three-year program. Pop quiz—what are the two main academies?"
A brown-haired girl raised her hand.
"Sigil Gate Academy and Black Star Academy," she said. "There are also four camps tied to the major factions—the Broken Veil, Black Halo, Evolaris, and the Wall Branch. We belong to the Dawn."
She straightened slightly. "Each faction uses its camp to train future elites and maintain power."
"Good," Mrs. Macon said. "And why are there two main academies?"
This time, a blond boy stood up. His clothes were wrinkled and stained, like they hadn't seen a wash in weeks.
"One academy is for Evolvers," he said. "The other is for non-evolved. Black Star Academy mostly takes in Wallborn, which is why it's basically a Broken Veil branch. Most factions don't want them."
Mrs. Macon nodded. "Correct. I'm glad some of you are prepared for the next stage of your lives. Saying goodbye will be hard, but don't let that stop you from climbing higher—"
The classroom door creaked open.
A boy with long, jagged hair and a muscular frame strolled in like he owned the place. Mrs. Macon didn't scold him. She simply watched as he claimed a seat.
"Speaking of the future," she said calmly, "Crasfer. Those scouted by factions usually disappear before the final day. I'm surprised you showed up."
Riven muttered under his breath. "Lucky."
Crasfer had been scouted by the Dawn faction. For him, school was already meaningless. Training, protection, resources—his future was locked in.
"Figured I'd visit this dump one last time," Crasfer said lazily. "Maybe take a few people with me."
His gaze lingered on a nearby girl. She blushed instantly.
Crasfer leaned back, resting against a desk, and began kicking the chair of the blond boy in front of him—again and again.
The boy stayed silent.
So did the teacher.
Riven's jaw tightened.
"Hey," he said quietly. "Can you stop that?"
Crasfer glanced back. "Stop what? I'm just listening to my teacher."
"You're kicking his chair," Riven said. "Cut it out."
The room fell silent.
"And if I don't," Crasfer sneered, "what are you gonna do about it, chubby?"
"You want to find out, you egotistical maniac?"
Crasfer froze.
Slowly, he turned around, eyes wide, locking onto Riven.
"Say that again," he growled. "I dare you."
"And if I do?"
Riven already knew what he was doing.
Calling Crasfer crazy always got under his skin.
Riven remembered the last time someone had bumped into Crasfer by accident.
The kid hadn't even been an Evolver.
Crasfer still beat him half to death.
He'd used his ability too—lightning ripping through the boy's body while teachers and students looked the other way. No punishment followed. No consequences.
Riven had known Crasfer since elementary school.
He hadn't always been like this.
The reason became clear the very next day.
That was the day Crasfer was scouted.
Fame.
Attention.
The feeling of being wanted.
It all went to his head in less than twenty-four hours.
Crasfer rose from his seat, looming over Riven.
"You wanna say that again," he sneered, "Wallborn scum?"
Riven laughed.
Actually laughed.
"Wallborn scum?" he repeated. "Did you forget we both live inside the Walls?"
He stood, meeting Crasfer's glare despite being slightly shorter.
"You're not even in a camp yet, and you're already acting like a god."
Crasfer's jaw tightened.
"Let me remind you of something," Riven continued. "If you show no growth—or if they decide you're all bark and no bite—you'll end up at the Academy just like the rest of us. Probably sitting right next to me."
He took a step back.
"So before that ego swells any bigger, you should worry about keeping your place."
A faint crackle crawled up Crasfer's arm.
"Oh shi—"
Lightning slammed into Riven's chest.
The force sent him flying across the room. His body smashed into the lockers at the back wall with a metallic crash.
It happened too fast for anyone to react.
Everyone knew—once Crasfer's lightning charged, there was no stopping him.
No one moved.
Eyes dropped to desks. Hands clenched. Silence ruled.
Riven gasped for air, chest burning like it had caved in. Every breath hurt.
Crasfer walked over slowly, an unhinged grin stretching across his face.
"Aww," he mocked. "Where'd all that confidence go?"
He leaned down.
"Don't forget—I'm practically untouchable. Why do you think nobody ever steps in when I do this?"
He grabbed Riven by the chin, forcing his head up.
"When camp starts, I'm not losing my spot. They see me as an asset." His grin widened. "Which means I can lie. Say you attacked me."
He shrugged. "They'll believe it. Who knows what they'll do? Maybe pay your family a visit."
His eyes gleamed.
"I've never tried it before."
"So next time," Crasfer said, "close your mo—"
A kick slammed into the side of his face.
The crack echoed through the room.
Everyone expected it.
Except Crasfer.
"Riven!" Jordan shouted, rushing to his brother's side. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," Riven wheezed. "I'm okay—get down!"
Another bolt of lightning cracked through the air.
"Hey, Crasfer."
Two boys stepped into the room. Their hair was badly dyed, original colors bleeding through in patches. Their clothes were ripped—intentionally.
"We could hear you having fun from downstairs," one of them said. "What's going on?"
Their eyes landed on Riven and Jordan.
"Oh," the boy smirked. "The twins."
Before either could react, the boy rushed forward and slammed them both to the ground. Their heads hit hard.
"Already broken?" the other laughed. "Man, I didn't even get a turn."
"Shut up," Crasfer snapped.
The boy froze and backed off immediately.
Crasfer held the side of his face, fury blazing in his eyes.
Someone weak had dared touch him.
"Take them outside," he ordered.
Crasfer walked out first as the two boys dragged Riven and Jordan after him.
"Thanks for the help," Riven mouthed, flipping off the silent classroom.
⸻
Three hours passed.
The sun dipped low, painting the streets orange.
Three boys walked out of an alley laughing—Crasfer and his friends—clothes draped casually over their arms.
Moments later, Riven and Jordan stumbled out behind them.
Only in their underwear.
"This is humiliating," Jordan muttered.
People stared.
Some laughed.
Others pointed.
"Probably wouldn't have gone this way if you used your ability," Riven said, trying to cover himself.
"You know my ability's weak," Jordan snapped, smacking the back of Riven's head. "And none of this would've happened if someone had minded their business."
"It wasn't the noise," Riven said. "It was how he treated that guy. He didn't do anything. That's wrong."
Jordan sighed.
"And I wasn't just gonna watch you get your ass beat."
Riven chuckled.
"Yeah… I know."
They bumped fists.
As they walked home, they passed people begging for units—the currency of the time. People with no backup. No safety net.
Fail once, and you were cast outside the Walls.
Left to the beasts.
⸻
In the year 2053, a blinding white light engulfed the Earth.
Cities. Deserts. Oceans. Skies.
No damage. No radiation. No explanation.
Within five years, it was dismissed as an unexplained global phenomenon.
Then people began to change.
Humans developed abilities once confined to fiction—flight, fire, lightning, gravity, ice, and countless variations beyond comprehension.
Every case shared one factor.
Extreme stress.
Moments where escape wasn't an option. Where survival demanded more than the human body should allow.
Humanity called it Forced Evolution.
Unlike adrenaline, the power never faded.
By 2073, another truth surfaced.
Some children awakened naturally—between ages five and twelve—without trauma.
This became known as Natural Evolution.
By 2140, factions ruled the world. Governments feared them. Portals reshaped travel.
And a third evolution emerged.
Fictional Evolution.
Abilities based on characters from stories.
Rare. Dangerous.
Desired by every major faction.
⸻
A groan escaped Riven.
Jordan facepalmed. "What now?"
"Our bags," Riven groaned. "I just wasted thirty dollars."
Jordan sighed. "The game."
"What'd you do with the rest of your paycheck?"
"Rent. Taxes."
"When do you get paid?"
"Next week. Then I'm quitting."
"Why?"
"They make you fight beasts," Jordan said. "Real ones. We're not ready."
A bark interrupted them.
Ink pooled beside them, forming a tiny black dog.
A Chihuahua.
"That's all I can do," Jordan said quietly. "You think this beats a monster?"
The dog wagged its tail.
"I'm quitting my job and training," Jordan continued. "This is our only way out."
Riven nodded.
"Do it."
"And you should lose weight, pig."
They laughed.
As they reached home, a blond boy stood under a streetlight holding two bags.
"I—I'm Joey Cross," he said nervously. "I grabbed your stuff. And extra uniforms."
Jordan squinted. "Did you break into our house?"
Joey ran.
"Thanks!" Riven yelled.
Riven sighed. "See? Being nice works."
"Shut up," Jordan muttered. "Let's get dressed before Mom sees us in boxers."