The streets outside the academy were quieter than the halls had been, yet Zael could still feel the echo of every whispered insult and skeptical glance that had followed him during the awakening. The cobblestone paths, bathed in the fading golden light of the late afternoon, seemed to stretch endlessly, giving him the illusion of solitude that he desperately needed. Students and nobles passed by occasionally, offering polite nods or cold stares, none daring to approach him directly. Their judgments were obvious, though—he was the boy who had awakened a common talent. The one they could mock, the one they could underestimate.
Zael's mind, however, was elsewhere. Each step he took toward his quarters was deliberate, measured, weighed with calculation. This world was unfamiliar, yet it felt like the second chance he had been waiting for—a chance to correct mistakes, a chance to rise where his past self had fallen. Even now, he could feel the residue of the life he had left behind in the normal urban world: the sharp edges of failure, the moments he had been powerless, the sense of inevitability he had lived with. That life was gone, and yet it had shaped him. Here, he could be stronger, smarter, untouchable—but only if he played the game correctly.
When he arrived at his quarters, the familiar door and polished wooden steps greeted him like an old friend. The apartment was not modest; far from it. Kael had provided him with comfort befitting his status as a prodigy's younger brother. Tall windows framed the city beyond, filtering the sunset through flowing curtains, casting patterns across polished wooden floors. Shelves lined with rare tomes, some in languages Zael did not yet know, stood beside crystal figurines and a small training area. The apartment was quiet, organized, and utterly serene. It was a space designed for growth, thought, and concealment.
Zael allowed the door to click softly behind him, shutting out the murmurs of the city. Here, he could breathe. Here, no one could see the turmoil within him, the mixture of humiliation, pride, and barely contained excitement that churned inside.
He closed his eyes and sank into the armchair Kael had provided, letting the comfort of the room envelop him. The humiliation at the hall, Seraphina's cold dismissal, the snickers from the nobles—all pressed against him like a heavy weight. He could still hear the whispers in his mind: common talent… weak… unworthy. But beneath the weight of scorn was something else—something dangerous and exhilarating.
The system… it activated.
A soft, almost imperceptible hum filled his mind, the kind of vibration that made his pulse quicken in ways no human observation could detect. The presence was calm, mechanical, yet brimming with potential.
System: Talent Bank — Initial upgrade complete. Talent: Multiplier — Supreme Blessing.
Zael's lips curved into a faint smile, one entirely unseen by the outside world. Supreme Blessing. The words felt small, almost understated, yet the implications were monumental. The talent he had feared would define him as common, useless, had quietly transformed itself, upgraded to a level far beyond any he had seen in the hall.
He focused on the shimmering interface that appeared in his mind, subtle and precise. The system laid out the details:
Multiplier. Base: 10% increase in received effects.
Zael's mind absorbed the information quickly, recalling every theoretical application he could imagine. He concentrated again:
Upgraded: Supreme Blessing. All received effects amplified by 10,000 times in quality or quantity. Stats are not directly affected. Skill points, resources, objects, energy… all are affected.
A thrill surged through him. 10,000 times… invisible to anyone else. Entirely silent. Entirely mine.
For a moment, he allowed himself a private sense of triumph. He leaned back, letting the armchair support him as he absorbed the enormity of what had just happened. The city outside was unaware. The academy, with its nobles and prodigies, believed him common. He was hidden in plain sight, cloaked in mediocrity.
And no one can know… not yet.
He studied the Talent Bank interface further, analyzing possibilities, limitations, and hidden patterns. Many enhancements were locked, requiring experience or triggers that Zael did not yet understand. Others hinted at applications he could only theorize about, invisible amplifications of the mundane into the extraordinary.
Every thought circled back to the hall and Seraphina. Her disappointment had cut deeper than the mockery of the nobles. She had seen him, expected more, and recoiled when the world judged him unworthy. Zael did not resent her entirely; society had trained her well. Expectations were everything in this world. And he knew, better than anyone, how to manipulate expectations, perceptions, and appearances.
Tyron, by contrast, lingered in his thoughts like a calm anchor. Unlike Seraphina, he had seen the truth behind the surface, even if only partially. Zael understood the value of a friend who did not react with emotion or envy, who measured and adapted. Tyron's steady presence was a reminder that not all judgment was shallow, not all attention a trap.
Zael's mind drifted outward. Beyond the city walls lay forests rumored to conceal dungeons, ancient ruins, and creatures of legend whispered about in the quiet corners of the academy. Beyond the forests, mountains rose like jagged teeth, hiding secrets only the bold or foolish dared explore. Even as a common boy, he now carried a power hidden to all others, a silent advantage he could exploit when the academy trials began.
The world measures talent by appearances. I measure it by outcome.
Hours passed in thought and contemplation. Zael did not test the talent physically—its use would first manifest in the academy trial, where dungeons, skill points, and real competition would give him the perfect arena. For now, he focused on strategy, on the calculations that could turn every insult and underestimation into advantage.
He considered every detail:
How he could silently amplify resources, objects, or rewards in the future.
How he could allow others to take notice while he quietly prepared in the shadows.
How patience, observation, and concealment could become his greatest weapons.
Lowkey. Hidden. They must underestimate me.
Even in his luxurious apartment, the echoes of the academy haunted him. The whispers, the laughter, Seraphina's cold dismissal—all were fuel for his strategy. Every slight, every sneer, every judgment became a mental ledger, a reference point for what he would do when he was ready to reveal his true strength.
Zael also reflected on the life he had left behind, the urban world of his past. He remembered failure, regret, and the helplessness that had defined him. That life had ended in death, yet it had gifted him perspective and understanding—knowledge few others could claim. He had lived once, failed, and now he had a second chance. That second chance was his to wield wisely.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the polished floors, Zael remained in silence. He let the hum of the Talent Bank resonate within him, letting its quiet energy mingle with the plans forming in his mind. He had no need for immediate action, no reason to reveal his edge prematurely.
Patience, observation, and strategy. These were his rules. Every mocking glance, every dismissive whisper, every moment of underestimation was another piece in the puzzle of his rise.
The world hasn't seen anything yet. And when it does… it will be too late.
Shadows flickered across the walls, the city lights glimmering in the distance. Zael Nightshade sat, outwardly common, inwardly extraordinary, holding a secret the world could not see—and would never suspect.
The first day of his second life was over. The awakening had occurred. The Talent Bank had revealed itself. And Zael smiled faintly, a predator hiding in plain sight, ready to rise when the world least expected it.
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