The opulent weight of Nidhi's expectations felt heavier than the crystal chandelier hanging above her marble entryway. I managed a weak farewell, dodging another offer of a guaranteed position, and stepped out into the humid evening air. The *WHOOSH* of the maglev transport passing overhead sounded like a sigh of relief.
Adit had followed me out, still munching on his fourth samosa. "Seriously, man, just take the job. Logistics division gets amazing benefits. Plus, you'd be close to Nidhi. That's like, tier-one relationship XP."
"I'd rather be stuck in a Level 1 Dungeon with a rusty spoon than be Nidhi's father's pet project," I mumbled, pulling my worn jacket tighter. The air was warm, but a familiar chill settled deep in my core.
"Dramatic," Adit said, but his tone lacked conviction. He knew me too well. He knew the transmigrator story—the one I'd shared only with him and Nidhi—was already a fragile secret. If I failed to awaken *anything*, that secret might become explosively irrelevant.
We walked away from the high-rises, the air growing thicker with the smells of street food and ozone. The city of Neo-Delhi was a collision of ancient culture and hyper-advanced spiritual tech. Neon signs flickered over crumbling, century-old brickwork. The massive, tiered structures of the Azure Phoenix Guild headquarters loomed in the distance, bathed in a confident, pulsing blue light.
"Look, about that meditation thing," Adit began, nudging me. "You really should try the temple. Tonight. It's got residual energy from the pre-Awakening era—old magic, maybe. Maybe your… unique makeup… needs something different."
"I've tried everything, Adit. Every technique, every crystal, every bogus spiritual tea. It's like trying to connect to a Wi-Fi network that doesn't exist."
"But this is different. It's not about drawing energy; it's about *absorbing* the ambient stuff. Passive accumulation. The old Kali Temple down in the lower districts—it's abandoned, but the stone itself still hums. I felt it last week."
*Hums.* That cursed, frustrating sensation everyone else experienced. The low, resonant thrum of the world breathing spiritual energy. I never heard it, never felt it. My reality remained muted, flat, soundless.
"Fine," I conceded, desperation finally winning out. "One last time. If nothing happens, I'm spending the next two weeks playing vintage video games and accepting my fate as a glorified accountant."
Adit's face lit up. "That's the spirit! I can't come, though. I've got to finish calibrating this salvaged mana-converter for a client. Big payday." He slapped my shoulder. "Go get your spiritual breakthrough, Ankur. I'm rooting for you."
I watched him jog off toward the bustling market district, his optimism a sharp contrast to the cold dread settling in my stomach. ***
The Kali Temple was a forgotten relic, tucked away in a narrow alleyway where the city's light pollution couldn't reach. It was a place where the concrete gave way to ancient, moss-covered basalt. The air here was cooler, heavy with the scent of mildew and decaying flowers left years ago.
I pushed open the massive, iron-studded door. The hinges groaned, a deep, mournful sound: "*SKREEEEE-OOOOH*."
Inside, the silence was absolute. No street noise, no distant maglev *WHOOSH*. Just the vast, dark space. The central idol was long gone, but the intricate carvings on the walls—depicting fierce goddesses and swirling cosmic energies—seemed to writhe in the faint moonlight filtering through a crack in the ceiling.
This was exactly the kind of place that should be saturated with residual spiritual power. If Adit was right, the very stones should be vibrating.
I walked to the center of the sanctuary, sinking cross-legged onto the cold, dusty floor. I closed my eyes and forced myself to breathe slowly, deeply, focusing on the emptiness within.
*Come on. Just a flicker. A spark.*
I tried to recall the instructions Nidhi's father had paid a guru to teach me—the complex visualization of drawing the ambient energy into the *Dantian*, the spiritual core.
I visualized the world outside: the shimmering, invisible currents of Aether flowing through the city, the powerful surge around the nearby dungeons. I imagined those currents, thick and golden, rushing toward me, entering through my skin.
Nothing.
I focused harder, straining my mind until a dull ache bloomed behind my eyes. I felt the rough texture of the floor beneath my fingers, the cold air on my neck, the faint, metallic scent of the old iron door. But the spiritual energy? It was an abstract concept, a word without meaning.
Frustration, hot and acidic, began to bubble up. I gripped the sides of my knees, my knuckles white. A year of this. A year of pretending, of hoping, of failing.
"Why?"
I whispered into the silence. I remembered the hospital room, a year ago. A nurse had held a small, specialized device to my chest. It was designed to measure nascent spiritual power. Her face had been a mask of confusion.
"It's flatlining, sir. Are you sure you're eighteen? Sometimes pre-Awakened teens register low, but this… this is zero."
Everyone on Blue Star, regardless of age, registered *something*. A baseline, a pulse. I had none. I was spiritually dead.
Two weeks until my eighteenth birthday. Two weeks until the System, the omnipresent interface that governed this world, would attempt to interface with my spiritual core, assign my Affinity, and grant my starting levels.
What happens when the System tries to connect to zero? Does it crash? Does it ignore me?
A low, guttural sound escaped my throat. It wasn't a word; it was a sound of pure, trapped misery. "*HMMMMMM*."
I slammed my fist against the dusty stone floor. The impact stung, but it released a tiny fraction of the pressure building inside me.
And then, something shifted.
It wasn't external. It wasn't the ambient spiritual energy rushing in. It was internal.
The pain from hitting the floor, the physical shock—it triggered something deep within my consciousness.
Instead of the golden currents I was trying to visualize, I saw a flash of code. Not the clean, elegant interface everyone else described, but a chaotic, broken mess.
A window materialized in my mind's eye, a stark, white text box overlaid on the darkness of the temple.
**[ERROR: SYSTEM CORE INITIATION FAILED. SPIRITUAL RESERVOIR: 0/100.]**
**[ATTEMPTING EMERGENCY PROTOCOL: TRANSPLANTATION INTERFACE ENGAGED.]**
**[FOREIGN ENTITY DETECTED. CORE INTEGRITY: EXTREMELY LOW.]**
My breath hitched. My heart hammered against my ribs. This wasn't the smooth, welcoming interface everyone else got. This was a panic alarm.
A second window flashed, overlaid on the first, red text screaming urgency.
**[WARNING: HOST ENTITY DEEMED UNSUITABLE FOR SYSTEM INTEGRATION.]**
**[INITIATING REBOOT SEQUENCE. DATA PURGE IMMINENT.]**
*Data Purge?*
Was the System trying to expel me? To delete the transmigrator anomaly?
Terror seized me, cold and absolute. I felt a dizzying pull, like the very essence of my being was being stretched thin, ready to snap.
"No!" I didn't shout, but the sound ripped from my lungs, sharp and involuntary: "*AIIIIIEEE*!"
In that moment of panic, something deep and hidden, something I hadn't known I possessed, fought back. It wasn't spiritual energy. It was raw, desperate will. The memory of the crash, the screech of tires, the feeling of being violently displaced—it all surged forward.
The windows in my mind fractured, shattering like glass. The red text dissolved into static.
The thrum returned, but this time, it was different. It wasn't the ambient hum of the world. It was a single, intense vibration originating from the deepest part of my consciousness, a fierce, protective beat.
When the mental static cleared, the error messages were gone. In their place, a single, simple, black text box appeared, small and discreet, almost hiding itself in the corner of my vision.
**[FOREIGN SYSTEM CORE INTEGRATION: COMPLETE.]**
**[SPIRITUAL RESERVOIR: 1/100 (MINIMUM VIABLE)]**
**[TALENT ACQUIRED: SYSTEM ERROR (UNIQUE)]**
My eyes snapped open. The temple was the same—dark, dusty, quiet. But the air felt different. It was no longer a void. It was thin, almost imperceptible, but I could feel a faint, metallic taste on my tongue, the barest trace of spiritual energy.
I had 1 point. One single, solitary point of spiritual energy. It was pathetic, less than a newborn baby on Blue Star, but it was *mine*. And my Talent?
*System Error (Unique)*?
A wave of dizzying euphoria and profound confusion washed over me. I had forced the System to accept me. But what did a 'System Error' do? Was it a joke? A curse?
I pushed myself to my feet, the cold stone floor now feeling like a solid anchor. The deadline was still looming, the stakes still impossibly high, but now, I had a secret weapon: a broken, unique, unwilling connection to the System.
I had survived the purge. Now, I just needed to figure out how to survive the world.