The world had changed twelve years ago, the day the first Rift tore open above the city sky. Monsters spilled out like nightmares made flesh, and humans discovered the desperate gift of Awakening. Some rose as Hunters. Some died. And some… like Aiden Kael, remained painfully ordinary.
But on this morning, there were no monsters. No battles. Just the small apartment Aiden shared with his little sister.
Aiden Kael tightened the strap of his worn backpack, glancing around the cluttered living room one last time before school. The walls were faded, the furniture second-hand, but it was theirs. Their sanctuary.
"Eat your breakfast before it gets cold," he called.
Elara poked her head out from the kitchen, her messy brown hair falling into her eyes. At twelve years old, she already had the sharp look of someone who noticed everything, though her body was fragile and thin from the illness that clung to her lungs. She held up a plate with a grin. "You burned the eggs again."
Aiden sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "They're not burned. They're… extra crispy."
She giggled and set the plate down on the small table. "Mom would have done it better."
The words hung in the air, heavy and unspoken. Both of them knew it was true. Their parents would have done everything better—cooked better, lived better, protected better. But their parents had died years ago, shielding their children from a Rift that had swallowed their neighborhood whole.
Aiden remembered it too clearly: the heat, the screams, the way his father's back had been the last thing he saw before being shoved into safety. He remembered his mother's blood, her last words— Run.
And so he ran. He'd been running ever since.
"I'll… do better next time," Aiden said softly.
Elara gave him a small smile and nudged the plate toward him. "It's fine. I like crispy eggs."
They ate in silence for a while. The distant sound of construction drifted in from the city—the sound of rebuilding, always rebuilding. Life had become a rhythm of surviving, patching up holes, and bracing for the next Rift. For most people, there was at least hope: a chance that Awakening might grant them strength. But not for Aiden.
At fifteen, he was already considered a failure. He'd entered the Awakening Ceremony two years ago and come out with nothing—no flames in his veins, no lightning in his fists. Just… normal.
Still, he worked part-time jobs where he could, did his best to keep Elara in school, and visited the clinic whenever her coughs grew too sharp. It wasn't much, but it was all he could give.
When they finished eating, Elara leaned back in her chair. "Aiden… do you ever think things will get better?"
Aiden looked at her, the corners of his mouth tightening. He wanted to lie, to say yes. But he remembered the Rifts, the Hunters striding past with weapons glowing in the sun, the way ordinary people like him could never stand against them.
"…Yeah," he said finally, forcing a grin. "One day, I'll make things better. For both of us."
And though he didn't believe it yet, he had no idea how soon the world would force him to keep that promise.
After breakfast, Aiden grabbed his backpack and Elara's satchel, slinging both over his shoulders. "Come on, slowpoke. We'll be late again."
Elara rolled her eyes but followed him out the door, clutching her scarf tighter around her neck. The autumn air was sharp, carrying with it the distant tang of ash from the last Rift attack. Even weeks later, the city still smelled faintly of smoke.
Their apartment was tucked into the edge of Old District 9, one of the poorer zones where repairs were slow and safety was… relative. Cracked buildings leaned together like weary giants, patched with tarps and wooden beams. But for the Kael siblings, this was home.
The streets bustled with life as they walked. Vendors shouted over stalls of cheap bread, mechanics worked on sputtering mana-cars, and hunters in gleaming armor strode past, weapons strapped to their backs. People turned to watch the hunters, eyes filled with equal parts awe and resentment.
Elara tugged at Aiden's sleeve. "Did you see that guy's sword? It was glowing!"
"Mana steel," Aiden muttered, keeping his eyes down. "Probably worth more than this whole street."
"Do you think…" She hesitated. "Do you think you'll ever get one like that?"
Aiden's chest tightened. He had gone through his Awakening Ceremony already. No power, no mana, no weapon. Just failure. Still, he forced a laugh. "If I ever do, you'll be the first to see it."
They stopped at the corner where the schoolyard gates loomed. Kids were pouring inside, some ordinary, some already showing faint sparks of mana in their veins. The awakened ones always stood out—stronger, faster, more confident.
Elara glanced at him with a knowing look. "You don't have to walk me in, you know. I'm not a baby."
"You're twelve," Aiden said firmly. "That qualifies as 'baby.'"
She groaned and shoved him toward the other gate, where the older students gathered. "Go on, before you're late too. And don't get into fights again!"
Aiden smirked. "No promises."
They parted ways, though not before he glanced back once, watching her blend into the crowd of students. She looked so small in that moment, swallowed by the chaos of the world.
School was… tolerable. Aiden sat through lectures on Rift history and mana theory, topics that only reminded him of what he lacked. His classmates whispered about the latest dungeon clear and argued over which guild was strongest. Aiden kept quiet, doodling in the margins of his notebook, pretending not to hear the word they often attached to him.
Useless.
When the final bell rang, Aiden shouldered his bag and headed toward the front gate. Elara was waiting for him, coughing lightly into her scarf. She smiled when she saw him, though her cheeks were pale.
"You okay?" he asked quickly.
"Mm-hm," she lied.
He didn't push. Not here, not in the middle of the street. Instead, he said, "Let's stop by the bakery on the way home. Maybe they've got the sweet rolls left."
Her eyes lit up, and for a moment she looked like the child she was supposed to be—not the girl forced to grow up too soon.
The sun was beginning to dip when they walked home together, shadows stretching long across the cracked pavement. People were hurrying indoors, shutters clattering closed. Curfew was coming. No one wanted to be outside if another Rift opened.
Aiden and Elara turned the last corner, their apartment building finally in sight.
That's when the ground trembled.
A low vibration at first, then a sharp crack that split the street. Light spilled upward in jagged beams, twisting into the air.
Aiden froze. His breath caught in his throat.
"No," he whispered.
Because he knew that light. Everyone in the world did.
A Rift was opening.
And this time, it was right in front of them.