My name is Kurohiko Sato, and if you're listening to this… then it means I've finally stopped lying to myself.
It's funny, isn't it? For nineteen years, I thought I was just another face in the crowd. One more nameless student trying to carve out a corner in a world where greatness had already been claimed centuries ago. But the truth is—I was never "just another person." I was born different. Different in a way I didn't understand, and different in a way no one else could have explained to me.
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
If you're going to understand my story—our story—then you need to know the world I was born into.
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A World That Changed
No one remembers the exact year when it happened. Records say somewhere around five hundred years ago, maybe a little less, maybe more. History gets messy the further back you look, but the event is always described the same way: a night when the skies bled light.
It wasn't a meteor shower. It wasn't a solar flare or aurora. No scientist could explain it. People back then wrote about it in fear, their hands shaking across paper, ink bleeding into words like "the heavens are breaking" or "the gods are descending."
They called it The First Dawn.
And when the light faded, humanity was no longer the same.
Men and women found themselves changed. Their bodies stronger, their senses sharper. Some discovered they could summon fire with a thought. Others could bend rivers or shape stone. A few whispered to storms and were answered.
The world as we knew it ended that day.
It wasn't like the world collapsed instantly—people didn't suddenly start throwing cities into the air or burning mountains down. No, it was gradual. Generation after generation, the awakened, as they came to be called, began to define society. Those born with powers became warriors, leaders, protectors… and sometimes tyrants.
Kingdoms rose and fell not by armies of steel, but by individuals who could split battlefields in half with a single gesture. Nations rewrote themselves around the existence of these people. Laws shifted, economies adapted, religions bloomed around the "gift of the heavens."
And those without powers?
They adapted too—or died trying.
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By the time I was born, the world had stabilized, at least on the surface. Countries still existed. Cities still bustled. People still went to work and ate meals and cursed at each other.
But the divide remained.
The Awakened lived lives of glory or infamy. The powerless—the "Norms," as most people call them—lived in their shadow.
It sounds cruel, but that's how it is. The gap between us is too vast to ignore. Imagine standing next to a man who can call down lightning. How do you compete with that? What job do you take, knowing someone can build an entire skyscraper with earth-bending in a week? What future do you hope for when a single person can fight off an army, and you can't even lift a sword properly?
For some Norms, the answer was bitterness. Resentment. Hatred. Others tried to live quietly, ignoring the world of the Awakened entirely. Most… just tried to survive.
And me?
I thought I was one of them. A Norm.
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I was born in the coastal city of Minato, a place where ocean met steel towers, and the sound of waves was drowned out by the constant hum of airships overhead. Minato was a city of contrasts—rich districts where Awakened elites flaunted their abilities, and slums where Norms scraped together what little dignity they could.
My parents were neither rich nor poor. Ordinary shopkeepers. They weren't Awakened, and they didn't care about that world of powers and prestige. They taught me to live modestly, to keep my head down, to work hard, and to be content.
And for most of my life, I believed that was enough.
School was school. I got average grades. I had a small group of friends, one of whom—you'll hear a lot about him later—was very far from average. His name is Shiva Mizuiro, and if fire had a human form, it would be him.
But me? I was the quiet one. The one people forgot in group photos. The one who blended into the background.
I didn't mind. Or at least, I told myself I didn't.
Because in a world where gods walked among men, being invisible felt safer.
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The Awakened Culture
You have to understand—our lives were shaped around powers, whether we had them or not.
There were Academies for young Awakened, where they trained to master their gifts. Entire industries revolved around ability-users—security firms, sports leagues, even entertainment shows where Awakened competed in dazzling displays.
Every child was tested at age ten. A simple procedure: you placed your hand on a crystalline device, and it measured whether you had an awakened core—the spark of energy that signified power.
I still remember that day.
The crystal lit up for my classmates, one by one. Some brighter than others, some dim, but at least it glowed. Cheers, tears, celebrations. Teachers congratulated them, parents wept with pride.
And then it was my turn.
I placed my hand on the crystal. Waited.
Nothing.
The silence was heavier than any sound.
The teacher gave me that look—the one I'd see again and again in my life. Pity, mixed with relief that it wasn't their child. My parents hugged me afterward, told me it didn't matter. That I was special in my own way.
But I saw it.
I saw the disappointment in their eyes.
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Looking back now, I realize the signs were always there.
The way I could sometimes see movement in the corners of rooms, flickers of darkness that no one else noticed. The way shadows seemed to stretch toward me when I was scared, or coil protectively when I was angry.
I thought it was my imagination. Just tricks of the light.
But deep down, a part of me knew.
Something was wrong with me. Or maybe… something was hidden.
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Why I'm Telling You This?
So why am I telling you all of this? Why waste words on history lessons and personal anecdotes when I could just say, "I got powers one day" and be done with it?
Because I need you to understand.
This world wasn't built for people like me.
A Norm has no place in a stage filled with gods. And even among the Awakened, there are ranks, hierarchies, unspoken rules about who gets to shine and who gets forgotten.
The truth is, I wasn't supposed to matter.
Yet here I am.
Because what sleeps inside me isn't normal. It isn't fire or water or wind. It isn't earth or lightning or mind tricks.
It's something else. Something older. Something darker.
A power that doesn't belong to this world.
And I—idiot that I am—am the key to unlocking it.
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They call people like me Catalysts. Rare individuals whose existence alone is enough to stir the balance of the world. Most Catalysts burn out before anyone realizes what they were. But a few survive long enough to trigger… events.
Cosmic events.
Events that reshape history the way The First Dawn once did.
I don't know why I was chosen. I don't know what it means for me, or for the people around me.
But I know this much:
The shadows that follow me aren't just tricks of the light.
They're waiting.
And the day they wake fully, the world will never be the same again.
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So this is my confession. My warning. My truth.
My name is Kurohiko Sato, and I am not what I seem.
I am the boy you overlooked. The Norm you dismissed. The shadow you ignored at the edge of your vision.
But shadows have a way of growing when the light fades.
And soon, you'll see me for what I really am.
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