Thirty years ago, the world broke.
Black fractures tore open across the sky, the ground, and the sea—wounds in reality that hovered in place, unmoving and permanent. They didn't collapse buildings at first. They didn't explode.
They just opened.
People called them Gates.
From the Gates came monsters.
At first, humanity fought back the only way it knew how. Guns. Bombs. Armies. Live broadcasts showed tanks firing point-blank, jets screaming overhead, entire city blocks turning into war zones.
It didn't work.
Some monsters shrugged off bullets. Others regenerated faster than explosives could tear them apart. The more humanity fought, the more obvious it became—
This wasn't a war they were equipped to win.
Then people changed.
A few survivors came back from Gate encounters altered. They could lift cars. Run faster than vehicles. Burn monsters alive with their hands. Swing weapons that didn't exist moments before.
They were called the Awakened.
Each Awakened manifested a Talent—a fixed ability that defined how they fought and how far they could go. Fire. Ice. Regeneration. Weapon creation. Spatial tricks. The stronger the Talent, the higher the rank.
Society reorganized itself overnight.
Talents became status.Talents became careers.Talents became everything.
Cities were protected by guilds. Schools trained children to fight. Rankings were broadcast weekly. Talent strength determined income, influence, even marriage prospects.
And if you didn't Awaken?
You stayed normal.
Which meant weak.
Which meant disposable.
I turned eighteen today.
I stood inside the Awakening Hall with hundreds of others, the air thick with nervous sweat and anticipation. The crystal hovered above the pedestal at the front, glowing softly, waiting to decide our futures.
Names were called one by one.
A boy stepped forward. The crystal flared red.
"Talent: Flame Control. B-rank."
Cheers.
A girl followed. Blue light.
"Talent: Water Manipulation. A-rank."
Applause. Phones came out. Someone was already recording.
When my name was called, the noise died down.
I stepped forward and placed my hand on the crystal.
It was cold.
The light flickered.
Once.
Then went dark.
Silence filled the hall.
An official frowned and checked the device. He tapped it, waited, then looked at his tablet.
"Talent…" He paused. "…None."
For a second, no one reacted.
Then someone laughed.
Quiet at first. Then louder.
Another voice muttered, "Did it break?"
The official shook his head, already bored. He stamped my file and slid it across the desk.
AWAKENING FAILURE
A few people stared at me. Others lost interest immediately. Someone behind me whispered, "That sucks," like they were commenting on the weather.
I didn't say anything.
I just walked out.
That night, I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling.
No Talent.
No future in a guild. No combat license. No ranking. Just another civilian in a world built for monsters and the people who hunted them.
I exhaled slowly.
"At least I'm alive," I muttered.
Something flickered in front of my face.
A translucent screen snapped into existence.
I jolted upright, heart slamming.
Text scrolled across the air.
[Stat Allocation System Initialized]
I froze.
The screen continued.
"Congratulations.""You failed spectacularly."
I stared at it.
"…What?"
The screen pulsed, as if sighing.
"No Talent detected.""No special ability detected.""Still alive. Curious."
My mouth opened. Nothing came out.
Another line appeared.
"Welcome, user.""You have been granted freedom."
I swallowed.
Freedom sounded expensive.
Then the final line appeared, glowing faintly.
"Try not to waste it."
I sat there, staring at the empty air, wondering if I'd finally snapped—
And completely unaware that this was the moment my life stopped making sense for everyone else.
[End of chapter 1]