"Really?"
Jordan let out a slow breath, staring up at the cracked ceiling above his bed.
The orphanage room was small—barely enough space for four boys. Two bunk beds pressed against opposite walls, a single flickering light overhead. Luka and Joey were already asleep across the room, soft breathing filling the quiet.
Riven lay on the bed beside Jordan, staring at him in disbelief.
"It sounds like you don't believe me," Riven muttered.
Jordan turned his head slightly. "How can I?"
Riven had just finished explaining everything—the box, the light, the strange space, the screen that appeared in front of him. To Jordan, it sounded like a dream stitched together from imagination and stress.
Riven pushed himself up onto one elbow.
"Okay. Let me recap something."
He pointed across the room toward Luka's sleeping figure.
"Blood manipulation."
Then his finger shifted toward Joey.
"He can shoot powerful beams of light."
Finally, he poked Jordan in the chest.
"You control ink."
Jordan didn't react.
"In a few months," Riven continued, lowering his voice so he wouldn't wake the others, "we're going to an academy where people have even crazier abilities than that. So tell me… is it really that insane to think I might've had some kind of vision from touching a weird box?"
Jordan stayed quiet for a moment.
When Riven put it like that… it didn't sound completely ridiculous.
"…Fair," Jordan admitted.
He rubbed his face tiredly. "But what do you think it means?"
Riven's eyes lit up instantly.
"It means I evolved. I'm finally on the same level as you three."
He grinned, almost laughing. The excitement in his chest refused to calm down.
Jordan watched him carefully. He wanted to believe him. He really did.
Riven suddenly stiffened.
"It's still here."
"What is?"
"The screen."
Jordan sat up slightly. "You're serious?"
"Yeah."
Riven's eyes moved slightly as if reading something only he could see.
"I can move it," he whispered. "With my mind."
Jordan frowned. He saw nothing. No glow. No projection. Just his twin staring into empty air.
They both already knew the truth.
If Jordan couldn't see it… no one else probably could.
Riven focused.
A translucent screen hovered before him.
⸻
[System]
Riven Harlow — Level 1
XP: (0/400)
Race: Human
Evolved Ability: None
Strength: 10
Speed: 10
Defense: 7
Health: 20/20
Energy: 20/20
⸻
Riven swallowed.
"It says I don't have an evolved ability," he muttered.
Jordan blinked. "Then what's the evolution part?"
"That's what I'm trying to figure out."
The words Evolution System still echoed faintly in his mind.
Why call it that… if he wasn't an evolver?
Before he could think further, the screen shifted on its own.
A new message appeared.
⸻
[System: Requirements Met]
Pick One Ability.
⸻
Riven's heart nearly jumped out of his chest.
Four glowing cards materialized in front of him, floating in a straight line.
Lightning Manipulation
Fire Manipulation
Earth Manipulation
Water Manipulation
Jordan saw nothing—but he could see the reflection of excitement in his brother's eyes.
"What is it now?" Jordan asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.
"Four options," Riven said breathlessly. "Elements."
Jordan stared at him for a long second.
"…You're not joking."
"I swear."
Silence filled the room again, broken only by Luka's soft snore.
Riven quickly explained the options, whispering the names of the elements.
Jordan listened carefully.
Then—
Nothing.
Riven looked over.
Jordan was asleep.
"…Seriously?" Riven muttered under his breath.
He stared at his brother for a moment, then shook his head with a small smile.
"Well… I guess it's just me and you now, System."
His gaze returned to the glowing cards.
Lightning crackled faintly on one. Fire flickered on another. Earth pulsed with steady weight. Water shimmered calmly.
His heart pounded.
This was real.
Whatever this was—it was real.
And this choice would decide everything.
A boy with light blue hair walked down the long marble corridor, hands in his pockets, expression blank with boredom.
The ceiling above shimmered with embedded crystal lights, reflecting off silver-trimmed walls engraved with the Voss crest—an ancient spiral of wind and water twisting together. His boots echoed faintly with every step.
Harkel Voss sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
"What is this about?" he muttered to himself.
He already knew.
He just didn't care enough to feel nervous about it.
The doors at the end of the corridor opened as he approached, revealing a grand chamber carved in circular layers like an old council court. Rows upon rows of seats curved around the center platform. Nearly every seat was filled.
Blue hair dominated the room.
Some shades were deep ocean blue. Others leaned toward icy silver. His own was lighter—closer to sky than sea.
Six elevated stands faced the chamber, reserved for the elders. Behind them, tall banners hung from the ceiling, each marked with symbols of past leaders.
Harkel quietly made his way to the back row.
He preferred it there.
Less attention. Less expectation.
More members filtered in until the low murmurs faded and the chamber settled into silence.
"All rise."
The command came from one of the elders.
Everyone stood instantly.
The grand doors behind the central aisle opened again.
A man with dark blue hair stepped inside.
His cape flowed behind him like a moving tide. The air itself seemed to shift as he walked forward. As he passed each row, heads bowed in synchronized respect.
Power wasn't spoken in the Voss Clan.
It was felt.
From the back, Harkel bowed as well.
But he did something no one else dared to do.
He kept his eyes open.
Lowered head. Eyes forward.
Watching his father's back as he walked.
The man moved with controlled authority, stopping before the elders. He bowed first to them before ascending to the central seat.
"Be seated."
The elder spoke again, taking his own seat. The chamber followed.
Harkel leaned back slightly, his gaze settling on his father.
Then it clicked.
Right.
This was it.
His father's tenth year as leader.
Which meant—
A successor would be named today.
Harkel glanced around.
His uncles. His aunts. Members of his father's generation. All seated closer to the front, posture straight, expressions prepared. Some looked calm. Others looked like coiled blades waiting to be drawn.
This was the Voss Clan.
A dominant force in the new world.
Every ten years, leadership passed on.
The current leader was not allowed to extend their reign.
No loopholes. No votes for extension.
When ten years ended, so did their rule.
The former leader would then take a guaranteed seat among the elders upon retirement.
It was one of the newer reforms. In the past, leaders had held too much unchecked authority. The Voss had paid for that arrogance more than once, sometimes standing on the wrong side of history.
They had learned.
Now, while the leader still held influence, all major decisions required consultation with the elders.
But one rule remained untouched.
The successor was chosen solely by the current leader.
No votes.
No outside opinions.
No interference.
And traditionally—
The successor came from the same generation.
Harkel didn't mind that rule.
Some did. Those older or younger often whispered about fairness. But Harkel had never wanted the seat.
At least…
That's what he told himself.
His father rose from his chair.
"As you all know, my time as leader is nearing its end."
His voice carried naturally through the chamber without strain.
"In a few years, I will step down and take my place among the elders."
He turned slightly, gesturing toward a man seated near the front.
"I was given this opportunity by my older brother, Shen."
Shen inclined his head calmly.
"And I thank him for allowing our generation to lead. These past years have been prosperous for the Voss Clan."
The chamber remained silent, respectful.
His father's gaze swept across the room.
"I intend to continue that prosperity."
A subtle tension filled the air.
"With the choice I have already made."
Several of Harkel's relatives straightened further.
Some hands tightened on armrests.
Harkel felt something shift in his chest.
Not fear.
Not excitement.
Something heavier.
His father stepped forward.
"The successor of the Voss Clan… will be announced in time but not in a normal way."
The chamber held its breath.
From the very back row, Harkel Voss watched without blinking.
The meeting hall of the Voss estate felt heavier than usual. Chandeliers of crystal light hovered above, reflecting off the long obsidian table where every branch of the family sat in tense silence. Uncles. Aunts. Grand uncles. Cousins. All of them dressed in blue and silver, the colors of their bloodline.
Harkel's fingers tightened slightly at his sides.
Would his father really make them fight for it?
Would he force brothers and sisters to turn against each other for the position of clan leader?
The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.
At the head of the table, Shen Voss stood slowly. His presence alone was enough to silence even the elders.
"This selection of a leader will be different," Shen announced, his voice calm but firm. "I will base it on my brother Lin's foundation… but I will add my own spin."
The eagerness drained from several of his siblings immediately.
If he was basing it on Lin's philosophy, then he wouldn't choose from their generation.
He would choose from the next.
"I am making a game."
The words dropped into the room like a stone into still water.
"A game?" Axel muttered under his breath. The resemblance between father and son was uncanny—same sharp jaw, same calculating eyes—but Axel's surprise was visible.
Across the table, Lin narrowed his gaze. He already knew what this meant. The children would be returning to the academy soon. Some would be entering their first year. And the academy allowed no outside contact. No interference. No family influence.
"What are you planning?" Lin asked quietly.
Shen clasped his hands behind his back.
"I know some of you hate this idea already. But listen carefully. The next generation cannot inherit a clan like ours without first learning how to survive on their own. Power without independence is weakness."
The hall remained silent.
"All of our children will attend the academy as usual," Shen continued. "During their outings, the beast gemstones they gather will be recorded and sent back to us for ranking. This game will last one year. When my term as leader ends, the highest-ranked member of the next generation will step forward prepared to lead."
Murmurs spread across the table.
One of the elders leaned forward, stroking his beard. "It is a strong plan. But there is a flaw. Will the academy agree to such a thing?"
Shen's lips curved slightly. "They already have."
A few heads turned in surprise.
Another elder spoke up. "And what of fairness? Who is to say none of us will secretly aid our children? Or that their income as Voss heirs won't give them an advantage?"
Shen's gaze hardened.
"They will be cut off."
The room froze.
"We will provide no units. No resources. No support. They will earn everything themselves. If they cannot survive without us, they do not deserve to lead us."
The finality in his tone left no room for argument.
Some disagreed. Harkel could see it in their expressions. But the elders nodded one by one. And once the elders agreed, the matter was sealed.
Shen straightened.
"Good. Then prepare yourselves. The Clinton Games begin now."
A faint smile crossed his face.
"Dismissed."
Chairs slid back. Conversations erupted in hushed tones. Strategies were already forming in the minds of ambitious parents.
Harkel stood before anyone else and walked out.
He didn't look at his father.
He didn't look at Axel.
He didn't look at anyone.
The long hallway felt colder than before as he made his way to his room. Once inside, he shut the door and dropped onto his bed face-first, burying his head into the pillow.
He didn't care about becoming leader.
He didn't care about rankings.
He didn't care about the Clinton Games.
But he had seen something in his father's eyes.
Not ambition.
Not cruelty.
Conviction.
Shen truly believed this was right.
Harkel's voice came out muffled against the pillow.
"If I try my best…"
His fingers tightened into the sheets.
"If I win this…"
He swallowed.
"Will you finally be proud of me?"