The crystal flared.
First, a shimmer of green.
Then blue.
The orb pulsed brighter, threads of color weaving together like strands of fate.
Kael's breath caught in his throat as the light washed over him, seeping into his skin, wrapping around his body like a second soul. It didn't hurt—but it wasn't comfortable either. It felt like something was peering inside him. Weighing every part of who he was.
Then came the voice. Cold. Mechanical. Final.
"Awakened. Classification: Dual-Type. Primary — Healer. Secondary — Brute."
Kael blinked.
Healer? Brute?
The panel before him lit up, displaying a silhouette of his body, highlighted zones along his arms and chest, pulsing softly.
He stepped back from the platform, heart pounding, confusion swirling in his chest. He didn't know what that meant. Was it good? Was it rare?
The door hissed open behind him. He stumbled out, barely noticing the assistant who handed him a silver ticket.
"Proceed to the cafeteria for your meal," she said without looking at him. "Afterward, go to the zone listed on your ticket for your Ability Orientation."
Kael glanced at it. Sector 4 – Dual-Type Briefing.
Before he could process more, Brayk came out of Room 102 like a storm, fists in the air.
"Let's go!" he shouted. "Blue and yellow! Strength and defense, baby! I'm officially a human tank!"
He spun in a circle, nearly knocking over a nearby assistant. "Did you see me glow? I looked like a damn sunrise!"
Kael let out a shaky laugh.
Then Liora stepped out from Room 101, her eyes wide, cheeks flushed with shock.
"I—I got magic," she whispered. "Magic and buff support. I don't even know how."
Brayk grabbed her hand and spun her around before she could protest.
"We all awakened!" he shouted. "No duds here. The streets can keep their dust and garbage. We're Hunters now!"
For a moment, none of them spoke.
They just stood there, breathing. Alive. Awakened. Together.
They made it.
No more waiting.
The cafeteria was massive and cleaner than anything they'd ever seen. Rows of food they didn't recognize. Juices that shimmered in odd colors. Kael picked something simple. Rice. Steamed meat. A bottle of something sweet and fizzy. His hands were still trembling as he held the tray.
Brayk loaded his with everything in sight. "I'm getting my tax money's worth," he said with a full mouth.
Liora picked at her food, still staring at her hands like they might explode any second.
Kael's thoughts swirled like a storm.
Healer and brute.
What did that even mean?
How could healing and brute strength go together?
"I don't know," Kael finally answered, his voice quiet.
He stared down at his food, barely tasting anything as he chewed. His mind couldn't stop spinning around the words.
Healer. Brute.
It sounded like a contradiction. Something soft tied to something violent. He didn't know how to feel about that.
After they finished eating, the three of them followed the signs toward their evaluation class. Their steps felt heavier now. Not from exhaustion, but from the weight of the unknown.
They entered a wide auditorium with polished floors and high ceilings. The lighting was soft, but there was a strange energy in the air, like static before a storm. Seats lined the room in curved rows. They found a spot near the middle and sat down, quietly glancing around at the others who had also been sent to Sector 4.
Some students whispered to each other. Others sat in tense silence, clutching their tickets like lifelines.
After a minute, the lights dimmed. A tall woman in a black uniform stepped up to the front of the room. Her eyes scanned the group like she already knew who would rise and who would fall.
"Welcome to Orientation," she began. Her voice carried with effortless authority. "You've awakened. Congratulations. That part's over. Now comes the hard part."
She took a breath and folded her hands behind her back.
"You've all been classified by color, based on your innate affinity. These colors are more than decoration. They're how we categorize combat roles and potential."
A large display appeared behind her, flickering to life with eight colored symbols arranged in a circle. She pointed to each as she spoke.
"Yellow is your tank. Shields, defense, body reinforcement. They're the front line.
Blue is raw strength. Brutes, brawlers, melee types. The ones who break things.
Green is for healers. Medical energy, restoration, recovery under pressure.
Purple means magic. Casters, elementalists, and arcane manipulators.
White light—or just 'light'—is used for buff support. Enhancing speed, defense, clarity, power. The heart of a good team.
Black represents debuffs and disruption. Illusions, curses, crowd control. Strategic nightmares.
Red is the weapon master class. These are your fighters who synchronize with weapons better than anyone else.
And finally, grey."
She paused for a moment.
"Grey is rare. It doesn't enhance strength or magic. Instead, it sharpens the body itself. Reflexes. Senses. Awareness. It's raw instinct made sharper. A nightmare in the right hands."
Brayk leaned over and whispered, "So… grey is ultra-instinct?"
Kael elbowed him lightly. The instructor didn't notice. Or pretended not to.
"You'll be learning about your types in depth. But let me be clear," she said, pacing slowly in front of the class, "you are not allowed to use your awakened skills until you're eighteen. The body is not ready. The mind is not stable enough."
Groans spread through the room.
"However," she continued, "there is an exception."
She held up a small vial filled with shimmering silver liquid. It caught the light like mercury, rippling slowly in her hand.
"This is an Awakening Draft. It unlocks your potential earlier. If taken, it allows you to begin training your abilities. But the process is not instant. Your power will awaken slowly over one to two months, depending on your body's compatibility."
More murmurs now. Excitement, curiosity, fear.
"You'll be assigned to specialized instructors during this period. You'll learn the basics of combat, mana flow, and tactical survival. You'll be pushed. You'll be tested. And if you make it through…"
She let the sentence hang.
Anyway, once the orientation ended, a soft chime echoed through the auditorium. A calm voice followed, clear and mechanical:
"All third-layer candidates, please proceed to the reception hall and present your code: 3L."
Kael's chest tightened. This wasn't just another hallway or another speech. This was the gate between the life he knew and the one he might never reach again.
The third-layer students around him began to stand, their faces a mix of hope, fear, and quiet determination. No one cheered. No one smiled. There was only the steady shuffle of feet as they filed out of the auditorium.
The reception hall was glowing in cool white light. Rows of counters stood at the front, manned by receptionists in dark uniforms, scanning students one by one. Blue lines ran along the walls, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat. It felt sterile, futuristic, and heavy with pressure.
"Code?" asked the woman in front of Kael.
"Three L," he replied, voice tight in his throat.
She gave a small nod and pointed toward a large silver door on the left.
"Proceed."
He moved ahead without a word, glancing back just long enough to see Brayk and Liora close behind. The three entered together, stepping into a large circular room already filled with students from the third layer.
The lights were dimmer here, softer, but the air felt thick, like something big was about to happen.
Then a tall man stepped onto a central platform. He wore a crisp coat that shimmered slightly at the edges, like it was lined with something expensive. His silver hair was pulled back, and his expression was unreadable.
"You all come from the third layer," he began, voice calm but powerful. "You have lived in crowded streets, fought for space, and survived with what little you were given. But now, for the first time, you have been invited into something greater."
The students fell silent. Every word seemed to echo in their bones.
"You are being offered a rare chance. Each of you has been evaluated. If one of the five great families sees value in you, they will extend their hand. If they do, your family will be relocated to the second layer. You will have cleaner air. Safer streets. Real opportunities."
Behind him, five symbols appeared in glowing light above the platform, spinning slowly in place: Viremont, Aevarin, Halewyn, Drevahn, Callistra.
"But this offer comes with weight," he continued. "If selected, you will be placed under contract. You will serve, train, and work for that family. You will carry a debt. But in time, with loyalty and strength, that debt can be erased."
The symbols above him glowed brighter.
"If you are not chosen, you will remain in the third layer. Your family will stay where they are. There is no shame in it. But there is also no second offer."
A hush fell across the room. Kael's heart pounded against his ribs. This was no dream. This was real.
To his left, Brayk stood still, jaw clenched and eyes sharp. On his right, Liora stared at the emblems with a quiet intensity that made Kael wonder what she was thinking.
None of them said a word.
Whispers spread like wind through the room. Kael, Brayk, and Liora exchanged glances, their bodies stiff, too stunned to speak. The air grew thicker, heavier. The large silver doors opened, revealing a testing chamber beyond a tall glass wall. Inside, five elevated platforms stood where representatives of the great families watched from behind shimmering windows.
One by one, students were called forward. The chamber moved in a mechanical rhythm, each person tested, judged, and sent onward.
Eventually, it was Brayk's turn.
He stepped forward with the same carefree swagger he always wore, though his eyes showed focus.
"Durability test," the technician announced.
Brayk was guided into a tall, cylinder-like machine filled with water. The chamber hummed as lights scanned his body. Numbers began to flicker.
"Eighty thousand," someone read aloud. Gasps spread through the hall.
"Diamond-tier defense."
Next, he was handed a pair of plain metallic gloves and directed to another machine. This time, it measured his strength.
"Twenty thousand," the technician called. "Silver-tier strength."
The crowd buzzed with murmurs.
Three of the five symbols above the platform pulsed once. The representatives of the Viremont, Halewyn, and Drevahn families had raised their hands.
Brayk turned, eyebrows raised in disbelief. He headed toward the reception desk, still looking back at the glowing symbols.
"You can only choose one of the three," the tester explained. "Read their terms before you decide."
Brayk nodded, his grin returning.
Then it was Liora's turn.
She stepped forward with quiet confidence. A helmet was lowered onto her head.
"Mana test," the technician announced.
The lights on the helmet flared with color.
"Ninety-five thousand," someone called. "Diamond high-tier mana."
Another murmur passed through the room.
Then she moved to a smooth table. She placed her hand down, and the surface rippled with magic.
"Buff support strength, fifty thousand," the technician read. "Low gold-tier."
All five symbols above the platform lit up in unison. Every family had raised their hand.
Liora stepped back, glowing with pride, and moved toward the receptionist.
"I got all of them," she whispered to Kael and Brayk, her eyes wide with disbelief and joy.
Then Kael's name was called.
He swallowed, legs trembling slightly, and stepped forward. He was handed the gloves.
"Strength test," came the instruction.
The machine blinked for a moment, then displayed a number.
"Ninety-nine," the technician muttered, blinking.
There was a pause. Then laughter broke out behind the glass.
"Maybe it's broken," someone joked.
They tested the machine again with one of the staff members. The number displayed normally.
"Try again," the technician said.
Kael repeated the test. Again, ninety-nine.
"Just a normal kid's strength," someone whispered. "Barely above average."
Then came the healing test.
Kael was directed to a basin of water designed to measure healing magic. He placed his hand inside. Nothing happened. No light. No response.
Another awkward silence.
"Try again," the technician said, trying to sound encouraging.
Kael closed his eyes and focused harder, his mind screaming for something—anything—to awaken.
A faint glow appeared. The reading blinked.
"One thousand," the technician said quietly. "Not even bronze-tier."
There was a beat of silence.
"The lowest healing rate on record," someone added.
No hands were raised. The symbols remained still.
Kael stood for a moment, stunned. Then he walked slowly out of the chamber.
Outside, Brayk and Liora rushed to him.
"What happened?" Brayk asked.
Kael gave a tired smile and shrugged. "Nothing much. Just not my day, I guess."
He kept walking before they could say anything more, his thoughts a storm of disappointment, shame, and the burning question: Why was I even given a chance to come here?
And somewhere deep inside him, a flicker of something stirred. Not power. Not magic. Just a quiet, stubborn refusal to give up.