Chapter 1 – Mockery of the Weak
The morning sun crested over the Meridian Academy's central courtyard, spilling its golden light across the cobblestone floors, gleaming against the crystalline spires of the awakening halls. The courtyard was alive with anticipation — today was the Meridian Awakening Ceremony, a rite that separated the strong from the weak, the destined from the mundane.
Tommy Oliver stood at the central circle, heart hammering in his chest, palms slick with sweat. Around him, dozens of his peers awaited their turn, whispers and barely concealed smirks passing between them. At his side, Kimberly's hand rested lightly on his shoulder, an anchor in the storm of expectation.
"You'll do fine," she said softly, her voice brimming with confidence. Stage 8 skin reinforcement made her seem untouchable even in this tense atmosphere. Her body radiated a subtle aura of hardened vitality, a shield that had been earned through years of disciplined training.
Tommy forced a smile, but it was brittle, shattering under the weight of his own fear. His pulse throbbed erratically. Stage 1 — Weak Pulse. Barely able to sense the faintest trickle of Aether within himself. Most civilians never even reached this stage, and yet here he was, about to face the world with less than a spark in his veins.
The crystal orb at the center of the Meridian Circle shimmered as each initiate approached. Legends claimed it reflected the true essence of one's core, the color revealing their potential. Blue for a steady pulse, gold for rare affinity, and black — the curse of a crippled core.
Tommy's turn arrived. He swallowed hard and stepped forward, trying to summon courage. The elders' gazes fell upon him with measured judgment. Stage 1, Stage 2 — they could sense the weakness before the orb even activated.
He placed his hands on the orb, feeling its chill sear through his fingertips. Energy coiled faintly around his palms, a thin, trembling thread of Aether. His breath caught.
The orb flickered… and turned black.
A gasp rippled through the courtyard.
"Ha!" The sound cut through the tension like a blade. Johansson, the academy's golden boy and Tommy's rival, stepped forward with his usual smirk. His Stage 7 Internal Focus allowed him to command Aether with his very intent, his body humming with barely restrained power. "Trash like you shouldn't even call yourself human," he spat.
The juniors around him erupted into laughter, some pointing, some nudging each other in disbelief. Even Zack Johansson, his friend, chuckled, Stage 5 Aether Circulation allowing him to mimic basic martial forms while barely using his energy.
Tommy's face burned. Humiliation was a fist striking his chest, leaving a hollow ache behind. He wanted to sink into the cobblestones, disappear. Kimberly's hand tightened on his shoulder.
"Don't listen to him," she said, voice firm but gentle. "This… this doesn't define you."
Tommy tore his gaze away from the mocking crowd, feeling the faint pulse of Aether in his body. Weak, barely perceptible, but it existed. A flicker of hope, buried under layers of shame.
Mike, a senior at Stage 1 Elemental Awakening, stepped forward to demonstrate. Fire crackled along his hands as his elemental affinity flared — small, yet far more potent than Tommy's trembling thread. Even Riya, at Stage 3 Flame Manifestation, could summon a Fire Punch with enough force to singe a trainee's robe.
He felt small. Insignificant. Broken.
"Stage 1," Johansson sneered again, stepping closer. His presence pressed down on Tommy's chest like a physical weight. "You'll never be more than a joke. Your Aether is barely alive. Look at the others."
Emily, hovering nearby, flaunted her Stage 6 Aether Surge. Her energy flared in brief surges, enhancing even her mundane movements into displays of raw strength. Her smirk was sharp, filled with arrogance and the thrill of superiority. "Really, Oliver, are you even trying? Or is this some kind of performance?"
Tommy clenched his fists. The first instinct was anger, but what could anger do against a current he could barely feel? The orb had condemned him. The crowd had laughed. The world had whispered its verdict.
And yet, somewhere deep inside, something ignited. A seed of determination, fragile but persistent.
He remembered the mornings in the training grounds with Kimberly, the quiet nights spent practicing alone, the countless times he had struggled to awaken even a flicker of his Aether. This was his crucible. If he crumbled now, it would mean surrender — but surrender had never been in his nature.
Tommy lifted his gaze, focusing not on the black orb, not on the laughter, not on Johansson. He focused on the faint pulse beneath his skin, the whisper of Aether threading through his veins. Stage 1 — weak, yes, but real.
"I… I may be weak," he said, voice barely above a whisper, but trembling with conviction, "but I'm not nothing."
A murmur ran through the juniors, some curious, some skeptical. Johansson's smirk faltered, if only for a heartbeat, and Zack tilted his head, confused at the sudden defiance.
The elders watched silently. Stage 1 was pitiable, but rare in its own way. It required patience, perseverance, and a resilience most lacked.
Tommy closed his eyes. He could feel the faint flow of Aether — sluggish, scattered, like a candle struggling against the wind. He visualized it, coaxing it to flow, to obey. Slowly, torturously, a thread of energy began to shimmer along his limbs. It was dim, but it pulsed.
Kimberly's eyes widened. She felt the slight vibration through the air — Tommy was barely moving, yet he had summoned something. A whisper of Aether, a weak pulse that spoke of untapped potential.
Johansson stepped forward, sensing the shift. "What…?" His voice was sharp, incredulous. Stage 7 warriors did not often see raw defiance manifest before true power.
The orb flickered slightly, but did not change color. Black still glowed ominously. Yet, for the first time, Tommy did not flinch. Instead, he let the pulse spread. His arms lifted, trembling, yet determined. A faint light glimmered around his palms.
Emily's smile faltered. She stepped back instinctively. Even Riya tilted her head, sensing the subtle flow of energy.
"You think a flicker makes a difference?" Johansson hissed, stepping closer, internal Aether coiling, ready to crush whatever feeble surge Tommy produced.
Tommy did not respond. He took a breath. Each inhalation a mantra. Each exhalation a vow. *I will not be defined by this moment.*
Then, in a sudden pulse, the Aether in his body reacted to his intent. Not strong. Not brilliant. But tangible. A faint ripple along his skin. The orb shivered under his touch, its blackness trembling like a shadow disturbed by light.
Gasps echoed. Some juniors fell silent, watching in awe. Stage 1 had awakened *something*. A whisper of energy, but unmistakably present.
Johansson's eyes narrowed. Stage 7 should have crushed him. But even now, the boy stirred. There was *stubbornness* in him, a raw defiance.
The elder overseeing the ceremony leaned forward, voice low and resonant. "Interesting… Stage 1, yet alive. Perhaps… a delayed bloom."
Tommy opened his eyes. Sweat dripped down his forehead, but he held the pulse. He felt weak, yes, but alive. More importantly, he felt *capable*.
Kimberly exhaled slowly, relief washing over her. She stepped forward, encouraging, yet careful. "See? You're not nothing. You have… potential."
Tommy's lips curved in a faint, determined smile. This was only the beginning. Stage 1 was weak, but every master had once been a beginner. Every warrior had once faced mockery. Every legend had endured humiliation.
Johansson's face twisted in anger. "We'll see how long that lasts," he spat. "Weakling."
Tommy straightened. "We'll see," he replied, tone firm, steel underlying the words.
The courtyard fell silent, tension thickening like a storm waiting to break. Even the elders' eyes glimmered with interest. This boy — broken by the orb, humiliated by his peers — had sparked something. Something faint, fragile… but undeniable.
And Tommy Oliver knew one thing for certain: no one would look down on him again.
The crowd remained wary. The juniors whispered, shocked at the faint yet undeniable surge of life in the boy they had already dismissed. Stage 1. Weak Pulse. But alive. And determination flowed through him like fire.
Johansson clenched his fists, his internal Aether thrumming in warning. A rival had appeared where none was expected. The next time they faced each other, the mockery would not stand.
And deep within Tommy's chest, a heartbeat of promise echoed: This is only the beginning.
---
Johansson stepped closer, eyes burning with fury. "Trash like you shouldn't even call yourself human."
Tommy's fingers brushed against the crystal orb again, faint pulse glowing faintly. He lifted his head, met Johansson's glare, and whispered under his breath, "We'll see about that…"