First day at the stupid academy.
I already hate it.
I tripped. Fell flat on my face.
Everyone laughed. Laughed like I was nothing. My ears burned. My chest felt heavy. Every laugh felt like a punch. I wanted to crawl under the floor and disappear forever.
"Look at the weak kid!"
Someone shouted. More laughter. My stomach twisted. My hands shook. Why did this always happen to me? Why me?
I'm Kai. I'm supposed to be a magic student. Big academy. Big dreams.
But right now… I feel small. Tiny. Useless. I'm looking at everyone else and they're perfect. Smooth magic, confident smiles, easy spells, laughter that isn't at their expense. Me? I look like a mistake. A joke.
The teacher handed out a simple magic test. "Nothing too hard," she said. Yeah, right. Everyone waved their hands and sparks danced in the air, colors swirling, lights flashing. Magic like it was nothing. Me? I barely managed a spark. Just a tiny flicker that sputtered and died.
A voice behind me. "Pathetic."
Some jerk. Someone I'll never forget. I wanted to hit him. Couldn't. I'm weak. Always weak. Every day, every year, I'm weak.
Lunch. I ate alone, of course. Everyone else talked and laughed like they belonged. I stared at the wall. I tried to eat. Food tasted like ash. My hands shook too much to even lift the spoon properly.
After class, I hid in the corner, tried not to cry. The laughter still echoes in my head. I hate it. Hate myself. Hate that my hands shake when I try magic. Hate that I can't even make a tiny spark. Hate that I always fail.
That night, alone in my tiny dorm room, I slammed my fist on the desk. Hard. My knuckles hurt. My chest ached.
"Why me? Why me? Why am I always useless?" I whispered. My voice broke. I wanted to scream. I wanted someone, anyone, to tell me I wasn't a complete failure.
The room was quiet. Too quiet. Only the wind outside. Only the faint creak of the dorm floorboards. Then… something happened.
A voice. In my head. Not real? Maybe. But real enough.
"Weakness is not the end. Weakness is the start."
I froze. My heart pounding. My hands shaking. I looked around the empty room. No one there. But the voice… it was real. It felt alive.
"Hidden System Activated: Weakest to Strongest."
Something inside me stirred. Angry. Hungry. Something that whispered: You're not done. You're not weak forever.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I wanted to laugh. My emotions tangled into a knot so tight I could barely breathe.
For the first time… hope. Tiny, flickering, fragile hope. I clutched my desk. My knuckles white. My chest tight. My brain screaming that this couldn't be real.
I couldn't sleep that night. I stared at the ceiling, thinking about the test, about the laughter, about every time I'd failed before. But the voice… that voice kept repeating, steady, calm: Weakness is not the end. Weakness is the start.
I thought about tomorrow. About the academy. About the bully, the teacher, the kids who laughed. My chest tightened. My hands curled into fists.
Tomorrow… I won't just be the weak kid.
Tomorrow… I'll fight.
I imagined myself standing in the hallway, sparks flying from my hands. Imagined the bully's face when he realizes I'm not the same weak kid anymore. Imagined the teacher staring at me, surprised, maybe impressed. My chest raced.
But fear… fear clawed at me. What if it's a trick? What if I fail again? What if the system doesn't actually work? My heart pounded with every terrifying possibility. I wanted to run. I wanted to hide.
No. Not this time.
This time… something inside me burned differently. Something raw, angry, alive. A small spark, faint but stubborn. I clenched my fists. My nails dug into my palms.
Tomorrow… they'll see.
Tomorrow… I'll show them.
And maybe, just maybe… the weak kid will stop being a joke.
I swallowed hard. My throat dry. My chest tight. My hands shaking.
I whispered again, almost to myself, almost like a prayer:
"I'll show them. I'll make them see."
The night passed slowly. Too slowly. Every creak of the floor, every sigh of the wind, every distant laugh in the dorm felt like it was aimed at me. But the voice stayed. Calm. Persistent. Real.
Weakness is not the end.
Weakness is the start.
And I believed it.
For the first time in my life… I believed I could fight back.