By the time I reached town, the sun was already crawling over the horizon like it had somewhere better to be.
Its pale light spilled across cracked streets and half-repaired buildings, washing over broken glass and shattered concrete, turning ruin into something almost pretty. Almost. Long shadows stretched between leaning structures, and the city looked half-asleep, caught in that awkward moment between night and day where nothing felt quite real.
My boots scraped against stone with every step.
The sound echoed far too loudly in the quiet dawn.
I felt like a walking crime scene.
People noticed.
'Would be weird if they wouldn't.'
A man hauling crates froze mid-step when he saw me, hands tightening around the metal handles as his eyes flicked over the dried blood crusted along my sleeve. A woman pulling her kid along the street slowed, her grip tightening as she subtly shifted him behind her leg. A pair of early workers standing near a shuttered shop stopped talking altogether, their conversation dying the moment their gazes landed on the tears in my clothing, the bruising darkening my neck, the way my left arm hung just a little too stiff at my side.
No one said anything.
'Stupid Cowards. Not even asking if im alright.'
I rolled my shoulder experimentally as I walked.
Pain flared, sharp, sudden– but distant. Manageable.
That alone weird.
A few hours ago, I'd been coughing blood into dirt, convinced my ribs were trying to crawl out of my chest and finish the job themselves. I'd lain there half-delirious, staring at the sky and wondering if dying felt quieter than I'd expected.
Now I was upright.
Walking.
Functioning.
"Yeah," I muttered under my breath, earning another wary glance from a passerby. "Totally normal. Nothing to see here."
My reflection stared back at me from a cracked window as I passed, messy hair clotted with dust and dried blood, eyes sunken, face pale enough to look sickly.
I barely recognized myself.
Home was three streets away. And yet...
I didn't turn toward it.
The idea of collapsing into my bed, letting exhaustion finally drag me under, sleeping for a week straight and pretending none of this had happened, it was tempting. Ridiculously tempting. I could already imagine it: the creak of the mattress, the familiar smell of old sheets, the silence.
But the moment I let myself consider it, something tight and restless coiled in my chest.
If I went home now, I'd talk myself out of everything.
I'd tell myself it was luck. A coincidence. A one-time miracle that wouldn't happen again. I'd convince myself to stay small. Safe.
And I couldn't afford that.
Not after everything.
So I kept walking.
The Vanguard Administration Office rose from the street like a blade embedded in concrete.
Tall. Angular. Reinforced with materials that shimmered faintly with etched runes, catching the early sunlight and reflecting it coldly. Unlike the surrounding buildings, its walls were spotless. No cracks. No scorch marks. No signs of decay.
It looked untouched.
Like it belonged to a different world entirely.
Everyone knew what the Vanguard Administration Office was.
Every major city had one, planted deliberately at the edge between civilian life and whatever waited beyond the walls. It wasn't a school or guild– more like a checkpoint. A place you passed through whether you wanted to or not.
If you awakened, you came here first.
They logged your existence, measured your Legacy, stamped a name and rank onto you, and decided where you belonged in the grand scheme of things. No theatrics. No congratulations. Just classification.
No registration meant no protection.
No missions. No rations. No access to restricted zones, training facilities, or the Vanguard Spire itself.
In other words, if you skipped this place, you might as well have stayed powerless.
A small group had already gathered outside.
Most looked nervous, hands clenched, shoulders stiff, eyes darting around like they expected someone to change their mind and send them away. A few looked excited, talking in hushed tones. One kid couldn't stop grinning like he'd won the lottery, practically vibrating in place.
'…Meanwhile, I look like I lost a war.'
I pushed the door open as I approached.
Cool air washed over me instantly, carrying the faint hum of dormant artifacts and the sharp scent of disinfectant. The contrast was jarring. Outside had been dust, stone, and sweat. Inside was clean. Controlled.
A woman sat behind the front desk, posture straight, uniform pristine, hair pulled back so tightly it looked painful. Her eyes flicked upand paused.
They widened. Not from shock, but something else entirely. She was assessing me..
"Awakened i presume?" she asked.
"Couple hours ago," I replied. My voice came out rougher than I intended. I cleared my throat. "Give or take a near-death experience."
Her lips twitched. Barely.
"You definitely look the part."
'Is that supposed to be a joke?'
'Seriously? This woman's sense of satire is awful.'
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as she began noting my personal information with quick, efficient movements.
"Name?"
"Elijah."
"Age?"
"Seventeen."
That earned me a look.
This time, it stuck.
"…Seventeen," she repeated, fingers already moving over a console. "No registered guardians. No Noble backing. No Vanguard sponsorship."
"Wow," I said dryly. "You make it sound so flattering."
She ignored me.
'Figures.'
"Follow the line," she said, pointing toward a side door. "Waiting room."
'They don't even provide medical care for emergencies?' I sighed
'This entire place is a scam.'
The waiting room was small.
White walls. No windows. Three chairs bolted to the floor like they were afraid someone might steal them.
I dropped into one with a slow exhale.
Now that I wasn't moving, my body remembered it was injured.
A dull ache spread through my ribs. My head throbbed faintly. I flexed my fingers, watching them tremble before steadying.
"Okay," I whispered to myself. "Okay. This is fine."
It wasn't.
'But I wasn't going to complain, after all, I had survived an encounter with a creature so vile and despicable that just thinking about it hurt my soul on a fundamental level.'
Minutes passed. Maybe five. Maybe ten. Time felt weird when your body was still deciding whether it wanted to collapse or not.
Then the door slid open.
A man stepped in.
Middle-aged. Tall. His uniform was darker than the receptionist's, lined with subtle silver runes that pulsed faintly when he moved.
"Evaluation," he said. "Follow me."
'This guy is just as dry as the lady previously.'
The evaluation room was bigger than I expected.
At its center floated a cube about the size of a small crate, suspended in midair by nothing visible. Its surface was carved with countless runes, shifting slowly, rearranging themselves like they were alive.
Power radiated from it, dense enough to make my skin prickle.
I swallowed.
"This is where you find out what you are," the man said calmly. "Place your hand on the artifact."
I stepped forward.
For a moment, I hesitated.
'This is it.'
'The moment everything changes.'
'I'd nearly died out there. I'd survived something I shouldn't have. I could feel it–something different inside me. Something so strong, so glorious it would be written down in History books and sacred crafts!'
'Please,' I thought, pressing my palm against the cube.
'Don't let this be nothing.'
The runes flared.
Heat surged up my arm, racing straight into my chest. My Aether Core pulsed instinctively, responding without my permission. The cube hummed, runes shifting faster, brighter.
The man watched silently.
Seconds passed.
Then...
"…Adaptation," he said.
I blinked.
"Uh… that's it?"
"Adaptation Legacy," he continued. "Rank: Resonant."
The word echoed in my head.
Resonant.
A pretty low rank, if memory serves me well.
Something cold settled in my stomach.
"Wait," I said. "That's– are you sure?"
He nodded. "Confirmed."
I laughed.
It slipped out before I could stop it. Short. Dry. Almost hysterical.
"You're telling me," I said, gesturing vaguely at myself, "that after all that, after nearly getting turned into paste by a Mana Fiend, I get– what, Adaptation? That's all?"
"Yes."
"And it's… a low-rank?"
"Second lowest." he corrected, tone perfectly neutral.
I clenched my jaw.
'I figured Adaptation was part of it…'
'But that's all?! Just Adaptation and nothing more? Seriously? Im hardly any stronger than the average Person with a Legacy like this!'
The more I thought about it, the more absurd it felt.
'Of all the things I'd imagined– elemental control, enhanced perception, raw physical amplification– this?
Adaptation sounds weak. Passive. Reactive.'
"Fantastic," I muttered. "Just my stupid luck again."
The man didn't respond.
He handed me a thin card moments later.
My Awakened ID.
Name, Age, Legacy.
Seeing it printed made it worse.
Resonant.
'Almost useless.'
"Report to the Vanguard Spire," he said. "Capital City. Transport departs every day at two."
I stared at the card, then looked up.
"So… that's it?"
"For now," he replied. "Survive the Evaluation."
I snorted.
"Yeah," I whispered as I turned toward the exit. "I seem to be good at that."
On my way out, the woman at the reception glanced up again.
"Consider taking a shower," she said, voice flat, "and acquiring a new set of clothes before departure."
Advice.
Or mockery.
Hard to tell.
I didn't trust myself to answer without cursing her, this entire facility and fate itself.
Outside, the sun had fully risen.
I stepped back into the street, clutching the card like it might bite me. Around me, the city moved on. People talked. Laughed. Lived.
And me?
I'd awakened.
And apparently, that wasn't nearly as impressive as I'd hoped.
I glanced toward the transport station–
Then turned toward home instead.
I had a few hours left to wait.
And first impressions mattered.
Even if I'd already failed them.
As for my Legacy…
Whatever Adaptation really meant, I'd figure it out.
In due time, or die trying.