Chapter 1: Graduation
The bell rang for the last time.
Jordan sat in the back row of the assembly hall, his hands folded neatly on his lap as the headmaster droned on about honor, perseverance, and the bright future of the graduating class. The words carried a familiar rhythm—duty to society, service to humanity, the responsibility of wielding power—but they washed over Jordan like static.
Around him, students shifted in their seats, buzzing with anticipation. Some whispered about their College Examination schedules. Others absentmindedly displayed their abilities, little flickers of fire or sparks of lightning dancing at their fingertips, small proofs of the talents that would define their futures.
Jordan kept his eyes on the polished floor. His hands were steady. Too steady.
He had nothing to show.
Two hundred years had passed since the Surge had torn the world apart and remade it. In that time, abilities had become the foundation of human civilization. Power determined rank, wealth, even respect. To graduate without awakening was rare, almost unheard of.
And yet here he was.
"—and remember," the headmaster's voice cut through his thoughts, "as you step into adulthood, it is the duty of every Gifted to contribute to the safety and prosperity of humanity. Our war against the Twisted is not over. Every hand matters."
At the mention of the Twisted, the hall grew quieter.
Jordan glanced up. A holoscreen behind the headmaster flickered to life, showing grainy images from the borderlands: twisted figures of what were once humans, bodies warped with glowing veins and jagged limbs, marching under banners marked with a symbol of black flame. The Organization. The Twisted weren't just monsters anymore. They had structure. Strategy.
It had been ten years since his parents died fighting them. He could still remember the day the soldiers came to his door, the silence of his aunt's kitchen, the metallic taste of grief. Everyone else had moved on. He hadn't.
Applause erupted, snapping him out of his thoughts. The ceremony was ending. Students filed out into the courtyard, tossing their caps, laughing, hugging, abilities flaring in bursts of celebratory light. A girl nearby conjured a dozen flower petals from thin air, showering her friends in bright pink blossoms. Another boy created a small gust of wind that carried their caps higher into the air than physics allowed.
Jordan walked alone, hands shoved into his pockets, slipping past the crowd. No one stopped him. No one called his name.
Outside, the city stretched tall and gleaming under the sun. Towers of reinforced steel and energy crystal reached into the sky, their surfaces reflecting light like polished glass. Airships drifted lazily above, banners fluttering with the insignia of the Academy—sharp wings stretched over a glowing crystal core.
Every graduate would be tested there. The Academy decided who became soldiers, who became peacekeepers, who became innovators. It was the heart of humanity's survival.
Jordan had already registered for the exam.
A Null had no chance of passing, of course. Everyone knew it. But still…
He tilted his head back, watching an airship pass overhead, its hull lined with cannons powered by shimmering crystals. His chest tightened.
What would my parents think, seeing me like this? Powerless. Ordinary.
A sharp crack of energy snapped him from his thoughts. Two boys were sparring in the street ahead, laughing as one hurled a bolt of lightning at the other, who raised a wall of stone to block it. The wall shattered, dust spilling across the pavement. Pedestrians didn't even flinch. In this world, such displays were as natural as breathing.
Jordan stepped aside, giving them room, ignoring the sideways glances. He could almost hear their thoughts: That's the Null. Poor kid. His parents were soldiers, and he didn't inherit a damn thing.
His jaw tightened. He kept walking.
A large holoscreen on the side of a building caught his attention. News anchors spoke in sharp, urgent tones: another attack on the western border, dozens dead. Images of smoke and fire filled the screen, soldiers clashing with monstrous Twisted. One of them had too many arms, each ending in claws, tearing through human defenses. Another's body was covered in pulsing crystal shards, reflecting energy blasts like glass.
The anchor's words echoed across the street:
"The Organization grows bolder. Reports confirm their forces have breached two human settlements this month. Military officials urge new Academy graduates to prepare for immediate conscription. Our future depends on the strength of this next generation of Gifted."
Jordan's stomach twisted. He turned away.
He had no future. Not in the way they meant.
By the time he reached his small apartment, the sun was sinking behind the towers, turning the sky into streaks of red and gold. He unlocked the door, the familiar creak echoing in the empty space. No family photos on the walls. No warmth. Just silence.
He dropped onto the couch and stared at the ceiling.
Graduated. That was supposed to mean something. For his classmates, it did—celebrations, dreams of glory, futures written in power. For him, it was just another reminder.
Still…
He rolled onto his side, eyes landing on the small black band on his wrist. His Academy registration bracelet. Tomorrow, he would report for the College Examination. Tomorrow, they would measure his worth.
He knew what they would find.
Nothing.
And yet… a spark lingered in his chest, stubborn and unyielding. His parents had believed in duty, in protecting humanity no matter the cost. They had died for that belief.
If he walked away now, what did that make him?
Jordan exhaled slowly, clenching his fist.
"Null or not," he whispered into the empty room, "I'm not done yet."
Outside, the city hummed with life, unaware of the storm gathering beyond its walls. The Organization moved in shadows. War crept closer.
And tomorrow, in the halls of the Academy, something inside Jordan would awaken.
Something the world wasn't ready for.
The Academy towered like a monument to survival.
Jordan stood at the base of the colossal structure, his breath caught in his throat. The building rose into the sky in gleaming tiers, its walls embedded with glowing lines of crystal that pulsed faintly like veins. Airships circled above, docking on extended platforms high overhead. A massive crystal emblem—the same winged insignia that adorned every city banner—hung over the gates, glowing like a second sun.
This was humanity's pride. The heart of civilization.
And the place that would decide his future.
Crowds of graduates filled the plaza before the gates, their voices buzzing with nervous energy. Some laughed with friends, comparing notes about their abilities. Others stood in quiet focus, eyes sharp, already imagining their place among the elite. Abilities flashed in casual displays: one boy hovered three feet off the ground without effort, while another girl absentmindedly spun a thin ribbon of water between her fingers.
Jordan pulled his hood tighter over his head, slipping through the throng. He kept his gaze forward, ignoring the sidelong glances.
The Null.
The label clung to him everywhere he went. Whispers followed him like shadows. It didn't matter that he had studied just as hard, that he had trained his body even without powers. In a world built on abilities, effort meant nothing without talent.
A chime rang out across the plaza, silencing the crowd. The gates of the Academy began to open, stone slabs grinding apart with a low rumble. A team of armored proctors stepped forward, their uniforms sleek and lined with crystal cores that hummed with power. Each one radiated authority, their presence enough to still the restless energy of hundreds of hopefuls.
The lead proctor, a tall woman with sharp eyes, raised her hand. Her voice carried easily, amplified by a crystal at her collar.
"Welcome, candidates. Today marks the first step of your service to humanity. Remember this: the Academy does not simply train you. It measures you. The weak are sent to support where they are useful. The strong are given the chance to rise. The exceptional… reshape the future."
Her gaze swept across the crowd, lingering on faces, testing their resolve. Jordan thought for a moment her eyes passed over him, sharp and dismissive, but he forced himself not to flinch.
"Follow the proctors. Do not stray. Do not attempt to disrupt the process. Your abilities will be logged and ranked by the system itself. Those who cheat or interfere…" She raised her hand, and a crackle of blue lightning arced between her fingers. "…will be removed."
The gates yawned wider. The candidates began to move forward, a wave of bodies funneling into the Academy.
Jordan stepped with them, his stomach tight, his pulse drumming in his ears.
Inside, the Academy was even more overwhelming. The entry hall stretched wide, its vaulted ceilings lined with crystal veins that glowed faintly in shifting colors. Statues of legendary Gifted stood along the walls, each frozen mid-battle, their names etched into stone pedestals. Jordan recognized some from his history lessons—heroes who had driven back the Twisted during the early wars, their powers immortalized in crystalized form above their statues.
Students murmured as they passed, pointing at their idols, voices filled with awe. Jordan kept his eyes ahead. Heroes or not, they all had one thing in common: power. Something he didn't have.
The candidates were herded into a vast chamber with tiered seating rising along the walls. At the center stood a massive crystal pillar, taller than a building, its core swirling with energy. Smaller platforms surrounded it, glowing faintly in rhythm with the pillar's heart.
The proctor raised her hand again. "This is the Core Chamber. All examinations begin here. You will be tested in stages: physical capacity, control, and Awakening. Each stage is designed not to show what you think you are… but what you truly are. Do not take this lightly."
A nervous ripple ran through the crowd.
Jordan's throat tightened. Awakening. The word hit like a stone. For everyone else, it was the confirmation of their ability, a chance to shine. For him, it would be nothing but silence.
The proctor continued. "Remember: the Organization watches from the shadows. The Twisted evolve just as we do. Humanity cannot afford weakness. Pass or fail, your path begins here."
The mention of the Twisted chilled the chamber. Everyone knew the rumors—that the Organization had spies, that some candidates never made it home. Jordan clenched his fists. His parents had died fighting those things. He wouldn't let himself be afraid of ghosts.
"Candidates will be called in groups. Prepare yourselves."
Names began to echo through the chamber, each group stepping onto one of the smaller platforms. The glowing runes beneath their feet activated, carrying them upward into the testing areas. Murmurs of excitement filled the room as bursts of power flared above—fireballs, telekinetic lifts, shields of stone. Each successful display drew whispers of admiration.
Jordan sat alone on the edge of the benches, waiting. He ignored the eyes that slid toward him, the hushed laughter. His name would be called eventually. He would step onto that platform, stand before the crystal, and be judged.
The thought hollowed him out.
Still, he would not run.
Not this time.
The minutes dragged, each group tested and sent upward, each display reminding Jordan of how wide the gap was between him and everyone else. But he stayed, silent, his gaze fixed on the pillar, watching the energy swirl and pulse like a living thing.
Finally, his name rang out.
"Jordan Kane."
The words echoed through the chamber. Dozens of eyes turned toward him. Some curious, some mocking. A few held pity.
Jordan rose slowly, shoulders squared, every step heavier than the last. He walked to the platform, the silence around him louder than the whispers. The rune circle lit beneath his feet, humming softly.
He glanced once at the crowd, then at the crystal pillar towering above. His reflection shimmered faintly on its surface, small and insignificant against its vast glow.
His chest tightened, but he lifted his chin.
No family. No friends. No power.
Just him.
The platform rumbled as it began to rise, carrying him upward into the unknown.
The Core Chamber fell away below.
And Jordan stepped into the test that would change everything.