The room smells like steel, sweat, and scorched mana.
Dozens of recruits stand shoulder to shoulder inside the Rank Assessment Hall of the Fifth Hunter Division. The space is industrial and imposing—high ceilings reinforced by exposed iron beams, rust flaking like scabs at the edges. Walls lined with worn plates of mana-insulated alloy stretch skyward, like a cage built to hold something dangerous.
Flickering mana bulbs dangle from overhead fixtures, casting stuttering shadows across the stained concrete floor. Cold air seeps from hidden vents in the walls, sterile and sharp. The whole place feels lifeless—like a battlefield pretending to be a lab.
Nobody talks. Nobody dares to even breathe too loudly. The tension isn't just thick, it's sharp. Taut enough to slice through flesh. It hums through the air, amplified by the low whine of mana charging the pylons that ring the raised assessment platform.
At the very back of the line, a boy stands still. Quiet. Watchful.
Eyes dull, yet too alert.
His posture is stiff, like he's holding himself together with threadbare will.
What am I doing here?
Why can't I remember anything?
He doesn't remember his name.
He doesn't remember where he came from, or how he ended up alone in a dorm room, staring into a mirror at a face that felt... borrowed.
Blonde hair. Blue eyes. A faint, curved scar just above the heart.
It throbbed sometimes. Not painfully, but persistently. A cold, dull pulse. Like a drumbeat out of sync with the rest of him.
Not a heartbeat. A pressure. A quiet resistance. Like something coiled tight inside his chest, resisting the rhythm of his body.
Like it didn't belong.
The mirror hadn't lied. But it hadn't told the whole truth either.
That reflection looked human. Normal. Too normal. Clean face. Straight posture. No wounds. No blood. Just… ordinary.
But the eyes... for one fleeting second flickered black.
Not shadow. Not light trick. Just black. Deep and absolute.
Like the void blinked.
That was hours ago.
The unease hasn't faded.
If anything, it's blooming—spreading through his ribs like ink in water. Curling into his spine. Threading every limb with a restless charge.
The boy ahead of him fidgets. His boots squeak slightly. He rubs his arms like he's cold... or scared. Maybe he feels it, too.
He glances back. "What is this place?"
The boy stares, slow to answer. Words feel foreign in his throat.
"The Fifth Division," the recruit says, confused. "You passed the prelims, right? We're here to be Ranked."
Ranked...
The word feels wrong. He doesn't remember any test. No written exam. No combat trials.
Yet there's a sigil on his wrist—a dark coil burned into the skin. It glows faintly beneath the cuff of his uniform.
Dim. Subtle. But alive.
It reacts to the hall. To the pylons. To the humming platform. It pulses—like it recognises something here. Like it belongs.
Maybe I do too...
Or maybe that's the problem.
"Next!" barks the examiner up front.
The line lurches. Everyone steps forward. So does he.
The cold pressure in his chest tightens. His skin goes clammy. His lungs fight for shallow breaths. Thoughts spiral into static.
Then—he stops mid-inhale.
Something inside him stills.
He presses a hand to his chest.
Nothing.
No beat. No rhythm.
Only silence.
A hollow emptiness, where life should echo.
He staggers. Vision narrows at the edges. The world tilts but he catches himself before he falls. No one notices. No one cares.
The line moves again.
Another recruit steps forward. A flare of blue mana. The screen above flickers.
B+
"No way…" someone whispers. "That's a rare B+! She's gonna get scouted."
The recruit stumbles off the platform in stunned silence. A badge of honour on his screen. The next boy slinks away with a crimson D burning behind him like shame.
Then—his turn.
The examiner frowns. "Name?"
He doesn't answer.
The man scowls. "Step in."
He obeys.
The platform vibrates beneath his boots. A low hum rises through his soles. Mana lashes the air—thin invisible threads brushing across his skin.
Every hair stands upright.
He lifts his hand. Hesitates.
The pressure in his chest grows violent. Not just resistance—something clawing outward. Pressing against bone like it wants out.
Still… he lowers his palm to the stone.
The moment flesh meets surface... everything explodes.
A blast of raw energy erupts from the pedestal. Black and violet mana streak skyward like a pillar of lightning. Wind tears through the chamber. Screams rise. Recruits scatter.
Mana bulbs overhead burst. Glass rains down in glittering shards.
And then—darkness.
Silence.
The platform hums beneath him. Its stone scorched and cracked. Smoke coils up from beneath his boots. Sparks dance in the air like insects.
The screen above glitches. Stutters.
Finally, it stabilizes.
E
A single letter. Cold. Dismissive.
Someone snorts. Then laughter.
"All that drama for an E-Rank?" a voice jeers. "Thought he was about to ascend to godhood."
The room cracks into laughter like glass breaking.
But he doesn't hear it.
He's staring at his hand.
The stone beneath is warm. Still pulsing. Alive.
Something responded.
The buzz lingers in his fingertips. Too soft for the others to notice. A private frequency. A whisper.
He pulls his hand back slowly.
The lights above flicker again, but only above him.
The examiner watches, brow furrowed. Narrowed eyes.
He feels it too.
Whatever is beating inside this boy's chest... it isn't normal.
It isn't human.
And it's waking up.
Later that night...
The boy sat alone on the dorm rooftop.
The city below pulsed with light and motion. Mana trams glided between towers. Neon signs blinked in layered languages. Drones whispered past in formation. Steam curled from alley vents like spirits escaping.
But up here above it all it was still.
Like the world had forgotten he existed.
The wind bit at his skin. Cold. Real. The stars above burned too bright. Closer, somehow.
He looked at his hand.
For a second, his veins flickered black.
Faint. Fast. Like lightning under his skin.
Then—gone.
A glitch? A hallucination?
No.
I saw it. I felt it.
Something inside me reached out today... Not panicked. Not afraid.
Hungry.
A vision struck him like a dagger in the base of the skull.
Not a memory. Not his.
Fire. Bone. A black throne.
Kneeling shadows cloaked in smoke. Whispering.
"My Lord."
The words echoed still. Low and reverent. Heavy with dread.
But he wasn't a lord. He wasn't even sure he was human.
Just a boy with no past.
With someone else's heart.
A heart that shouldn't beat.
A heart full of something ancient. Buried.
Starving.
He clenched his fist. Pale under starlight.
E-Rank.
It was a lie.
The system didn't recognise him. Couldn't categorize him.
That wasn't a verdict.
It was a warning.
[SYSTEM INITIALIZED…]
Welcome, User.
Synchronization: 7.4%
Title Unlocked: Unknown Entity
Rank Detected: Interference.
Masked Output: E.
Awaiting further integration…
Please survive.