"Hey mud rat! Why are you even here when nobody wants to see you?"
A boy, around 14, sneered as Abhaav quietly walked down the gallery of the school.
Abhaav didn't look at him. He had heard things like this a hundred times before. He simply lowered his gaze and kept walking, his footsteps echoing faintly.
But the boy wasn't done.
"Oh, look at him! Still acting cool. Your so-called didi already passed out of the Warren, and you're still here like a piece of trash."
This time Abhaav stopped. His shoulders stiffened, and he slowly turned his head towards the boy. His eyes were calm, but there was something sharp in them.
"If I'm trash, Hari… then why are you sitting on the ground talking to me?"
His tone was flat, almost casual, but the words cut deep.
Hari's face twisted in anger. "You! I always forget that people like you don't even deserve to speak. You need to remember your place!"
He raised his hand, and instantly it was covered in crackling blue light, like living lightning. Sparks danced around his fingers as students nearby gasped.
"See this? This is power. Something you'll never have, Abhaav." Hari's grin widened before he swung his glowing fist forward.
Abhaav's chest tightened. I can't dodge… He crossed his arms, pulling what little QU energy he could into a shield.
The lightning punch connected with a deafening crack.
"Argh!" Abhaav was thrown backwards, his body slamming against the stone floor. He gritted his teeth, quickly shifting his QU energy to his back to soften the impact, but pain still shot through his spine when he landed.
Hari didn't let up. He walked forward, grabbing Abhaav's collar, glaring down at him.
"Look at you now… still breathing? Pathetic."
He spat on Abhaav's face, then pulled his fist back and slammed it again. Abhaav stumbled, his body crashing against the wall. Smoke and dust burst into the air from the impact.
A crowd of students had gathered. Some whispered. Some laughed. None stepped forward.
Through the smoke, a girl rushed in, her eyes full of worry.
But as the dust settled and she saw abhaav and his bruised, battered figure standing there, her expression shifted. Worry turned into disgust. She scoffed, turned her back on him, and walked away to rejoin her friends.
Abhaav stood silently. His lips pressed together, his fists clenched. He didn't argue, didn't explain. He just turned and walked away, ignoring the whispers around him.
He left the school and headed toward his dorm. On the way, he saw many students hugging each other, laughing, and smiling as if they would never meet again. But for him, it was different—he didn't belong to any group, and he didn't have any friends.
Abhaav slammed the door shut behind him and stormed into his room. His bag hit the floor with a heavy thud, forgotten the moment it left his hand.
His blood boiled.
His face flushed crimson with rage, his jaw clenched tight. But amidst the storm of anger swelling within him, a single tear betrayed his fury. It slipped down his cheek, carving a silent path through the heat on his skin.
And just like that—his expression changed.
The fire in his eyes dimmed. The tightness in his fists loosened. Anger gave way to something deeper. Something colder.
Helplessness.
He wiped the tear away roughly and sat down on the edge of his bed. His breathing was shallow now, quieter than before. His gaze fell to his hand—specifically, to his finger. There, resting against his skin, was a ring.
Not a costly one. Not beautiful or unique.
Just a simple, dull ring. The kind no one would look at twice.
But to Abhaav, it meant something. It reminded him of who he was—of where he came from. Of everything he'd endured.
A bitter voice echoed in his mind.
What did I do wrong? What was my mistake?
He looked away from the ring, staring at the wall, but his thoughts kept spinning.
It's not in my hands that I was born without any ability... or that my parents gave birth to me outside the System. I don't trouble anyone. I walk my own path. Then why... why is it always me?
His shoulders trembled. His voice was hoarse as he continued whispering to no one.
Even after mastering ancient martial arts... even after being the best fighter in the entire Warran sector of Qu... it's still not enough. I was beaten today—by an average Sperk.
The memory stung more than the bruise on his face.
He closed his eyes.
But then—something sparked.
A flicker of memory. Something he had almost forgotten.
His eyes flew open. He rushed to his old PC, fingers shaking slightly as he powered it on. The machine whirred to life slowly, the screen blinking into focus.
There it was.
An unread email.
He clicked on it.
Subject: Military Academy Confirmation
Congratulations. You have qualified for admission into the Military Academy. A Sergeant will arrive tomorrow at 10:00 AM to escort you.
As Abhaav read the email, a slow smile spread across his face.
"Maybe…" he whispered, still staring at the glowing screen, "maybe now… my life might actually change."
He leaned back in his chair, heart still racing, but his thoughts drifting elsewhere.
He began browsing through archived documents and recorded lectures from his childhood classes—his mind hungry to understand something deeper. Something that had always gnawed at him silently:
How does this world really work?
When Abhaav was just seven years old, he remembered sitting in a cold classroom inside the Warran Facility, listening to an old, wrinkled instructor speak about the world's past. He had barely understood it back then—but now, pieces started to click.
Back in the ancient times—before abilities, before the chaos—the world had no powers. No magic. No flying men. No elemental manipulation. The entire civilization relied on science, engineering, and logic to move forward.
And they did.
For a time, humanity thrived—creating great cities, reaching into space, curing diseases, building artificial intelligence. It was a golden age of progress.
Until everything changed.
Around 1,500 years ago, a small number of people began to awaken with strange powers—unnatural speed, impossible strength, control over fire, shadows, and even time. These people were later called Sparks—the first generation of "gifted" humans.
At first, their existence was kept secret. Only the upper echelons of the old Earth government knew. They ran quiet experiments, trying to understand this anomaly. Some thought it was evolution. Others believed it was a curse.
Then they arrived.
From beyond the known planets, a new race descended—beings who looked almost exactly like humans, with only faint differences in aura and language. They came not in fleets of warships, but through Arches—runes carved into space itself.
They were called the Velari, masters of something long forgotten to humans: magic.
They came searching for the Sparks.
But what began as curiosity spiraled into conflict.
The Velari claimed that the Sparks were connected to a force long sealed away—something that should not have reawakened. They offered warnings. Threats. Demands.
Humanity refused.
And then the War of Fractured Skies began.
It was not a battle of tanks and missiles. It was fire against lightning. Sorcery clashing with psionics. Entire continents torn asunder. The skies burned for decades, and the Earth never recovered.
In the end, no one truly won. The Velari vanished. The ancient governments crumbled. And from the ashes rose a new world—one shaped not by reason, but by power.
Over the next centuries, other intelligent species began to arrive—Elves, with their long lives and connection to natural magic. Vampyrae, cursed with bloodlust but bearing ancient wisdom. Ghouls, twisted but sentient. Unlike the Velari, they came in peace. They traded, taught, and observed.
But the world had already changed.
Science slowed. Technology stagnated. People began to depend more on innate Abilities or ancient Magics rather than invention or innovation.
And with this new world came a new fear.
Children born with abilities were dangerous—too young to understand their powers, too wild to control them. Cities witnessed tragedies—accidental explosions, shattered minds, parents burned alive by their own kin.
To contain the chaos, a new global law was passed 700 years ago—The Birth Severance Act.
From then on, every child born was taken away from their parents within moments. They were raised inside specialized facilities called Warrans, where they were trained, conditioned, and categorized by power.
Their parents never saw them again.
They didn't even know their names, or their genders.
All that remained was an annual payment to the state—required for 14 years. That was the price of giving life.
Names were assigned by caretakers. Surnames were derived from the Warran itself.
That's why Abhaav carried no family name—only the label of Warran Qu.
He had never met his mother. Never seen his father.
And he never would.
To him, family was a concept from books. A lie told in bedtime stories.
And now, as he stared at the glowing words on his screen—Military Academy Confirmation—a new truth dawned on him:
He would soon step into a world shaped by centuries of war, laws, species, and secrets he barely understood.
In the Present Day, five Great Celestial Dynasties rule across the known galaxy. Each dynasty governs several planets, moons, and space stations. They are:
1. The Aurelian Accord – A noble house of scientists-turned-sorcerers. They seek to merge technology with magic.
2. The Xarn Dominion – A brutal empire focused on martial power and physical dominance. They value strength above all.
3. The Velari Expanse – Descendants of the original Velari who returned. They control the flow of magic across systems.
4. The Niharan Circle – A shadowy network of assassins, mindweavers, and seers. They operate in secrets and oaths.
5. The Drakshal Covenant – A diverse alliance of non-human species (Elves, Vampyrae, Ghouls) seeking peaceful coexistence.
Each dynasty recruits promising individuals into their own academies, armies, and secret societies.