Kaito tightened the last screw on the stabilizer glove and watched the indicator light blink green. Good. The student who owned it had nearly blown a hole in the training room yesterday. Mutant powers were strong, but mutant gear was fragile.
"Thanks, Mr. Kaito!" the boy said, slipping the glove on. Sparks danced harmlessly across the surface now.
"Keep your output under Level Three," Kaito said, wiping his hands on a cloth. "The glove can handle that. Anything higher and you'll melt the circuits again."
"Yes, sir!"
The boy ran off, leaving the Support Lab quiet again. Kaito leaned back in his chair and stretched his sore shoulders. The lab smelled of metal, oil, and burnt circuits. Shelves were filled with spare parts, tools, and half‑finished devices. Screens on the wall showed power readings from the training rooms.
Kaito wasn't a mutant. He didn't have powers. But he understood how powers worked better than most people with them. That was why the academy kept him. That was why students respected him. Without him, their gear failed, their powers overloaded, and accidents happened.
He picked up the next item on his workbench—a cracked flow regulator belt. The student who brought it in had apologized three times. "It wasn't my fault," she had said. "My power spiked again."
Kaito believed her. Mutant abilities were unstable, especially in teenagers. That was why the academy needed technicians like him. He didn't need powers to keep them safe. He needed steady hands, patience, and a calm mind.
The door opened again.
"Mr. Kaito, my boots are overheating," a girl said, holding up a pair of shock‑absorption boots. "They burned the floor."
Kaito sighed softly. "Put them on the table."
She did, and he scanned them with a handheld device. The readings spiked red.
"You're channeling too much energy into your legs," he said. "These boots can't handle that level yet."
"But I need to move fast," she said.
"You need to move safely," Kaito replied. "Sit. I'll fix them."
She sat on a stool, swinging her legs nervously. Kaito opened the boots and replaced the damaged coils. He worked quickly, his hands moving with practiced ease. He didn't have powers, but he had skill. And in the Support Lab, skill mattered more.
When he finished, he handed the boots back. "Try not to break them again."
She smiled. "No promises."
Kaito shook his head, but he smiled too. Moments like this made the job worth it.
By noon, he had repaired three regulator belts, two stabilizer gloves, one pair of boots, and a damaged training drone. His hands were tired, and his back ached, but he didn't complain. This was his place. This was where he belonged.
He checked the time. Mei would be finishing her shift at the clinic soon. He planned to bring her dinner. She always forgot to eat when she worked late.
He cleaned his tools, locked the lab, and stepped outside. The academy grounds were busy with students training, laughing, and showing off their powers. Kaito walked past them quietly. He didn't envy them. Powers came with pressure, danger, and expectations. He preferred his simple life.
He took the long route home, passing through an old subway tunnel that workers had reopened for repairs. The lights flickered, and the air smelled of dust and metal. His footsteps echoed softly.
Halfway through the tunnel, he noticed a loose metal panel on the wall. Behind it, something blinked—a small, old console with a thin screen. It looked out of place, like a forgotten machine from another time.
Curiosity pulled him closer.
The screen lit up as he approached. A calm, flat voice spoke.
"Assessment ready. Place wrist on the pad."
Kaito froze. "What? Who's there?"
"Assessment ready. Place wrist on the pad."
He looked around. No one else was in the tunnel. The voice came from the console. A small metal pad glowed faintly.
He should have walked away. He knew that. But something inside him—maybe curiosity, maybe frustration—made him lift his hand.
He placed his wrist on the pad.
A thin band of light wrapped around it. The console hummed. Numbers appeared on the screen.
Grip strength: 42 N
Punch force: 120 N
Reaction time: 0.42 s
Potential: 3%
Kaito stared at the last line.
Three percent.
It felt like a joke. Even weak mutants had higher potential than that. Three percent was nothing. It was less than nothing.
He laughed once, a dry, tired sound. "Figures."
Then something tapped lightly behind his eyes.
A neural HUD opened in his vision—cold, simple, military‑grade.
[Atlas Protocol — Locked]
[Access Level: Basic]
[Training Programs Available]
[Status: Uninitialized]
Kaito blinked. The menu stayed. He focused on the first option.
The HUD shifted.
[Initialize Atlas Protocol?]
He hesitated. Then he nodded.
The HUD flickered.
[Initialization Complete]
[Training Program: Atlas Basic]
[Estimated Time to Rank 1: 4 years]
Four years.
He let out a slow breath. "Fine. Let's try."
He left the tunnel with the strange feeling that something had changed. The HUD faded, but he could call it back with a thought.
That night, he started training.
He woke before sunrise. He did pushups until his arms shook. He ran until his lungs burned. He punched a sandbag until his knuckles bled. The Atlas recorded everything silently. No praise. No encouragement. Only data.
Days passed. His body hurt, but he kept going.
One morning, he opened the HUD to check his progress.
[Status]
Muscle Integrity: 62%
Endurance: Low
Potential: 3%
Surge Option: Available
Cost: Severe physical damage
Recovery (System‑Assisted): 6–12 hours
He closed the menu. He wasn't ready for that.
A month later, the city prepared for the weekend market. Stalls filled the square with fruit, tools, and small charms. Mei had gone early to help at the clinic. Kaito planned to meet her after work.
He walked through the market, enjoying the noise and colors. Children played with small sparks of power. Vendors shouted prices. The smell of fried noodles filled the air.
Then the sky tore open.
A rift appeared above the square, like a wound in the air. People screamed. A creature stepped through—tall, metallic, with glowing lines across its body. It moved like a machine and a living thing at the same time.
A Riftspawn.
Kaito's HUD activated on its own.
[Threat Detected]
Classification: Tier 3 — Aberrant Brute
Threat Level: HIGH
Recommended Action: Evacuate]
The Riftspawn's head snapped toward the nearest scream. Its eyes—if they were eyes—glowed a deep, violent red.
Then it charged.
People scattered. Stalls shattered. A vendor was thrown into a wall. The creature's roar vibrated in Kaito's bones.
He saw Mei.
She was holding a child, shielding him with her body, trying to crawl away.
"MEI!"
Kaito sprinted toward her, but the Riftspawn was faster. Its arm unfolded into a blade‑like appendage, swinging down with brutal force.
Kaito dove, pushing Mei aside—
—but the blade caught him across the ribs.
Pain exploded through his side. He hit the ground hard, rolling across broken fruit and splintered wood. His vision blurred.
The Riftspawn turned toward him.
It recognized him as a threat.
Or prey.
Kaito forced himself up, clutching his ribs. His HUD flickered.
[Warning: Internal bleeding detected]
He ignored it.
The Riftspawn lunged.
Kaito barely dodged, the creature's blade carving a deep trench in the ground where he had stood. The shockwave threw him backward. He slammed into a fallen stall, wood cracking under his weight.
His lungs burned. His ribs screamed. His hands shook.
He opened the HUD manually.
[Surge Activation]
Cost: Severe physical damage
Recovery: 6–12 hours
Confirm?
He hesitated only a heartbeat.
Then he selected Confirm.
SURGE ACTIVATION — PAIN, POWER, CONSEQUENCE
The world vanished in white agony.
It felt like his nerves were being ripped open. His muscles tore and rebuilt in the same instant. His bones cracked, then fused stronger. His heart hammered like it was trying to escape his chest.
He screamed, but the sound drowned under the roar of power flooding his body.
Then—
Everything sharpened.
Colors brightened.
Sounds layered into perfect clarity.
Time slowed.
The Riftspawn charged again, but now Kaito could see every movement—the shift of its weight, the angle of its blade, the pulse of energy in its limbs.
He moved.
His foot slammed into the ground, launching him forward with a speed he didn't know he had. He met the Riftspawn head‑on, fist crashing into its chest plate.
A shockwave burst outward.
The creature staggered back, metal denting under the impact.
But it didn't fall.
It roared, swinging its blade arm in a wide arc. Kaito ducked, feeling the heat of the strike pass over his head. He countered with a punch to its knee joint. Metal cracked.
The Riftspawn stumbled.
Kaito pressed the attack—three rapid strikes to its torso, each one sending sparks flying. His fists burned. His bones vibrated. His body wasn't built for this, even enhanced.
The Riftspawn adapted.
It shifted its weight, slammed its other arm down, and the ground erupted. A shockwave blasted outward. Kaito was thrown into the air, crashing through a fruit stand and skidding across the pavement.
His vision flickered.
His HUD flashed red.
[Warning: Muscle fiber tearing]
[Warning: Cardiac strain rising]
He forced himself up.
The Riftspawn was already on him.
It pinned him with its massive arm, pressing him into the ground. The weight crushed his chest. His ribs creaked. His breath caught.
The creature's blade rose for the killing blow.
Kaito grabbed the arm with both hands, muscles screaming, and pushed back with everything he had. His feet dug into the ground. His vision darkened at the edges.
The blade descended slowly, inch by inch.
He was losing.
He could feel it.
His strength was fading. The Surge was burning through him too fast. His body wasn't ready.
He thought of Mei.
Of the child she protected.
Of the students who trusted him.
Of the life he lived quietly, fixing gear for people stronger than him.
He refused to die here.
With a roar, he twisted his body, forcing the blade aside. It scraped across the ground, sending sparks flying. Kaito drove his knee into the Riftspawn's joint, then slammed his elbow into its head.
The creature reeled.
Kaito tore free, gasping for air.
He didn't wait.
He charged.
His fist connected with the Riftspawn's core—right where the glowing veins converged. The metal cracked. Light burst from the wound.
The creature shrieked, a sound like tearing steel.
Kaito struck again.
And again.
And again.
Each blow sent pain shooting up his arms. His knuckles split. His bones groaned. His muscles tore further.
But he didn't stop.
With one final punch, the Riftspawn's core shattered.
The creature collapsed, its body falling apart like broken machinery.
Silence fell over the market.
People stared. Some cried. Some whispered. Some backed away from him, fear in their eyes.
Kaito stood in the center of the destruction, chest heaving, blood dripping from his hands.
His HUD flickered.
[Surge Complete]
[Warning: Emotional dampening increased]
[Recovery Program Active — 8 hours]
He felt… strange.
Not triumphant.
Not relieved.
Not even afraid.
Just… quiet.
Too quiet.
He turned toward Mei. She was alive, but pale, holding the child tightly. She looked at him with wide eyes—not just in shock, but in confusion.
"Kaito… what did you…?"
He opened his mouth to answer—
—but his legs buckled.
He collapsed to his knees, vision blurring. His heart hammered unevenly. His breath came in short, sharp bursts.
His HUD flashed red.
[Warning: System overload]
[Warning: Surge instability detected]
[Warning: Emotional dampening rising beyond safe threshold]
Kaito's fingers trembled.
His vision darkened.
He felt something slipping inside him—something warm, something human.
He tried to hold onto it.
He failed.
The last thing he saw before blacking out was Mei reaching for him, shouting his name—
—and the faint outline of another rift beginning to open in the sky.