Leonard Cross was born into a world that had already decided his worth.
Ascenders had existed for centuries by the time he took his first breath. They weren't new. They weren't rare. They weren't miraculous anymore.
They were infrastructure.
Every city was designed with them in mind. Transportation lanes reinforced for superhuman movement. Architecture built to withstand enhanced strength. Laws written around abilities, classifications, and ranks. Education systems divided early, filtering children into paths based on what they were expected to become.
Ascenders weren't heroes.
They were the standard.
Leonard learned that before he ever learned multiplication.
His family name was revered. The Cross family wasn't just wealthy... they were established. His father, Marcus Cross, was a living symbol of what society admired: discipline, power, ascension. A man whose achievements in The Beyond were studied in academies Leonard would never qualify for.
From the moment Leonard could walk, expectations followed him.
And from the moment he failed to meet them, disappointment set in.
By the age of six, Leonard was already heavier than other children. By eight, noticeably slower. By ten, visibly different. His cheeks stayed round no matter how much he grew. His arms never hardened the way his brothers' did. Running left him wheezing. Training sessions ended early... not because he was injured, but because his body simply couldn't keep up.
Food became comfort.
Games became escape.
By the time he entered Aurelian Private Academy, the divide was permanent.
Aurelian wasn't a normal school. It wasn't meant for normal children. It catered exclusively to the sons and daughters of elites: powerful Ascender families, corporate dynasties, Beyond-extraction magnates, and political bloodlines.
Children who were guaranteed to awaken.
The academy didn't say it openly, but everyone knew. Awakening wasn't a question of if... only how.
Leonard didn't belong there.
The uniform made that obvious.
Designed for lean, athletic bodies, it clung mercilessly to Leonard's frame. The shirt stretched tight over his stomach, seams visibly strained. The jacket never quite closed. When he sat, fabric bunched uncomfortably around his waist. When he walked, his thighs rubbed together audibly.
He hated how aware he was of his own body.
He hated how everyone else was too.
Whispers followed him through hallways lined with Beyond-tech displays and Ascender achievement plaques.
"That's Marcus Cross's son?"
"No way. You're joking."
"He looks like he's never trained a day in his life."
"How did he get in here?"
Teachers treated him politely but distantly. Like an inconvenience they couldn't remove for political reasons. Students didn't bother pretending.
In a school where nearly everyone trained daily for awakening, Leonard sat out.
Not because he wanted to but because he couldn't keep up.
Training fields became places of humiliation. He tired too quickly. His movements were slow and sloppy. His body ached in ways that never translated into improvement. Laughter followed every stumble.
Eventually, he stopped trying.
He spent breaks alone. Lunches alone. Afternoons alone.
Leonard Cross had no friends at Aurelian Academy.
Not one.
At home, the contrast was suffocating.
The Cross estate was enormous, pristine, expensive, and utterly cold. His brothers came and went in bursts of activity: training, expeditions, social events with other Ascender heirs. They talked about Beyond layers like they were hiking trails.
They barely acknowledged Leonard.
When they did, it was with open disdain.
"You're wasting oxygen."
"Dad must regret you."
"You don't even look like a Cross."
His sister was gentler but distance crept in after her awakening. Power changed the way people looked at each other. Leonard saw it in her eyes sometimes. Not cruelty... just separation.
His mother tried to compensate.
She let him stay home from school when things got bad. Bought him games, consoles, collectors' editions. Stocked his room with snacks and comforts. Shielded him from his father's disappointment as best she could.
But indulgence didn't fix anything.
It only made Leonard retreat further.
His room became his sanctuary, filled with massive screens, consoles stacked neatly and shelves packed with over a thousand games — physical, digital, rare imports. His body sank into reinforced gaming chairs. His fingers moved with speed his legs never had.
Games were fair.
They punished mistakes, yes but they rewarded mastery. They didn't care about bloodline, body shape, or awakening potential.
They only cared if you learned.
Leonard learned everything.
Enemy patterns. Frame windows. Safe zones. Hidden mechanics. He replayed levels until perfection felt natural. He gravitated toward hard games. Cruel games. Games that didn't forgive errors.
Online, he wasn't Leonard Cross.
He was a name on a leaderboard.
A voice on a headset.
A player people respected.
His online friends didn't know he was obese. Didn't know he was rich. Didn't know he was hated by his own siblings. They knew him as someone reliable... someone who was calm under pressure, creative and capable.
He never met them.
But they mattered more than anyone at school.
Outside his room, the world worshipped Ascenders.
The Beyond appeared in every broadcast, every lesson, every ambition. A layered dimension of unimaginable danger and reward. Ascenders climbed it, layer by layer and each ascent granted greater power — or death.
The higher you climbed, the less human you became and society revered you for it.
Leonard Cross had none of that.
No classification.
No latent potential.
No future in the system that ruled the world.
So on Ascender Selection Day, when nearly every student in his class stepped forward and lit the diamond with radiant light, no one was surprised.
Except maybe Leonard.
Not because he expected to awaken.
But because some part of him had still hoped.
When the diamond stayed dark beneath his hand, the laughter felt inevitable.
And yet...
As he stood there, humiliated, letting out heavy breaths as his body ached due the stares and expectations…
Leonard realized something.
This world had never been built for him.
[Candidate Detected.]
[Criteria Met: Extreme Game Familiarity.]
[Ascender Status: Irrelevant.]
Leonard's breath hitched.
"What…?" he whispered.
The text continued.
[Gamebreaker Protocol Initialized.]
[Current Level: 1.]
[Failure Condition: Death.]
Leonard heart hammered as he stared in confusion.
A final line appeared.
[Prepare for Incursion.]
The grid shattered and Leonard Cross fell.
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