Arin opened his eyes to smoke.
Not fire.
Not burning.
Just smoke in the air, dry and sour.
His head ached.
His mouth was dry.
His back hurt like he'd slept on bricks.
He blinked.
Once.
Twice.
The ceiling above him was cracked and yellow.
The walls were stone, old and chipped.
The floor under him was rough and cold.
He wasn't home.
He sat up, slow.
His body was... wrong.
His arms were thinner than he remembered.
His chest was flat.
His hands were small, like they hadn't done a day of real work.
This wasn't his body.
And this wasn't his world.
He stood.
The dizziness came fast, like water in his ears.
He grabbed the edge of the bed to steady himself.
"Okay," he muttered. "Okay."
His voice was younger too.
There was a dirty mirror on the wall.
He walked toward it, bare feet cold against the stone.
Looked at the reflection.
The face staring back was eighteen.
Dark hair, tired eyes, bruised lip.
Pale skin.
A scar under the chin.
This body had seen some things.
Not recent, but not healed either.
And the eyes… there was something there.
Something stubborn.
A knock came.
Not polite.
Just one loud, fast hit on the metal door.
"Get up!" a voice snapped. "Formation starts in ten!"
Another knock.
"You wanna miss Awakening? Fine by me. They'll brand your neck and toss you with the scrubs!"
The footsteps moved off, fast.
Arin stared at the door.
"Awakening?" he said quietly.
More noise outside.
Heavy boots.
Shouts.
Murmurs.
He went to the window.
Bars.
But no glass.
Just open air.
Outside, a narrow alley.
People were walking, all headed the same direction.
Most wore dark red tunics.
Some had metal straps over their shoulders.
Young.
Maybe his age.
They all looked serious.
Nervous.
Some excited.
Most not.
The city beyond was ugly.
Gray buildings.
Stained walls.
Wires and steam pipes everywhere.
It looked like a factory that someone had tried to live in.
In the distance, a tower floated in the sky.
Not a building.
A tree.
A massive, glowing tree that hovered with its roots wrapped in light.
It pulsed.
Slowly.
Like it was breathing.
He felt that pulse in his chest.
He stepped back from the window.
"What the hell is this place," he whispered.
Then the memories came.
Not all at once.
Not a wave.
Just pieces.
Fragments.
Like flashes from a broken screen.
The boy this body used to be he grew up in Blackthorn District.
Lived in a small shelter with concrete walls and broken lights.
His father was someone important, once.
Now he was gone.
There had been war.
Monsters.
A sky that broke open.
Something called a Spirit Tree.
The world had changed.
No. It had ended, and restarted.
And now everything ran on power.
Not money. Not science.
Talent.
Arin sat back down on the bed. It creaked.
He pressed his fingers against his temples.
He was from another Earth.
No monsters.
No Talents.
Just a broken apartment and a slow life.
School. Work. Coffee. Anime.
Training at home, even when no one cared.
He died at twenty-two.
He remembered that now.
Hit by a car. Middle of the street.
Fast and stupid.
And now… here.
Eighteen years old. In another boy's body.
On a planet where people used something called "Spirit Energy" to survive.
Where kids lined up to get their powers ranked.
Where everyone either Awakened or got left behind.
Another knock.
Softer this time.
He opened the door.
A boy stood there.
About his age. Blond hair, neatly cut.
Wearing a clean red uniform.
His face was sharp, but bored.
"You're Arin, right?" the boy said.
Arin nodded.
The boy looked him up and down.
"You don't look ready."
"I'm not."
"Too bad. Ceremony's in five."
Arin didn't move.
The boy raised an eyebrow. "They'll record your lateness. Goes on your markcard."
"Thanks," Arin said flatly.
"You're welcome." The boy turned to leave. "Try not to cry when they give you an F."
Arin watched him go.
He closed the door.
His jaw was tight now.
The word stuck in his head.
F.
What kind of place gave a rank to your entire life at age eighteen?
He changed into the uniform on the bed red shirt, black pants, a dull metal strap that clipped over the shoulder.
The material was rough.
It didn't fit well.
He left the room. Walked into the alley.
Other students were moving toward the main plaza.
He followed.
The streets were packed now.
All young.
All walking the same way.
Some talked in pairs.
Some walked alone.
He heard pieces of conversation.
"I want a fire-type."
"Anything above C, I'll be fine."
"I heard someone last year awakened Mind Control. They gave him a house."
"They say if you get F, they send you to waste teams."
"Better than no Talent at all."
The plaza was large.
Black stone.
Wide and circular.
Guards stood at every corner.
They wore gray armor and long blades on their backs.
A glowing ring floated above the plaza.
It spun slowly, dropping tiny golden sparks that faded before they hit the ground.
That was the Spirit Tree.
Or at least part of it.
A platform stood in the center.
A man in silver robes spoke into a device.
His voice echoed across the stone.
"All candidates, step to your node."
The ground had glowing circles carved into it.
Names floated above each one.
Arin found his.
Node 147.
He stepped on it.
The light under his feet turned dull orange.
Candidates lined up around him.
Maybe two hundred in total.
Some whispered.
Some stared straight ahead.
The man on the platform raised his hand.
"Awakening begins now."
A low hum filled the air.
The Spirit Tree flared once a wide ripple of light that passed through the plaza like wind through grass.
Then the nodes started glowing.
One by one.
The first boy's node turned blue.
The screen next to the platform flashed.
NAME: JEK TORREL
TALENT: SHADOW ARMOR
RANK: B
The crowd clapped.
Another. Red light.
NAME: SERA VAIN
TALENT: FIRESTEP
RANK: A
More clapping. A few cheers.
Another. Another.
C. B. A. B.
Then someone's node flickered dull gray.
NAME: THAN MARL
TALENT: NULL SKIN
RANK: F
No one clapped.
Someone laughed.
The boy looked down.
Didn't speak.
Arin looked at his own feet.
Still orange.
Still waiting.
He looked at the glowing tree above.
It felt like it was watching.
Then his node turned white.
Not bright. Just… light.
The screen flashed.
NAME: ARIN
TALENT: CRADLE SPARK
RANK: F
TYPE: PHYSICAL
Silence.
A few chuckles.
A whisper behind him.
"Cradle Spark? Is that real?"
"That's not even on the tier charts."
"That's a trash Talent."
"I thought they removed that one."
He didn't move.
Didn't flinch.
He just stared at the screen.
Cradle Spark.
F.
Physical.
No elemental traits.
No aura signature.
No compatibility with Spirit weapons.
No future.
The announcer barely looked at him.
"Next," he said.
And that was it.
Arin stepped off the node.
A girl with bright silver hair smiled at him as she passed.
Not kind.
Mocking.
"Cute name," she said. "Like a baby's first burp."
Arin didn't answer.
He kept walking.
His hands were still at his sides.
Loose. Calm.
But inside something was moving.
A pulse.
Not pain.
Not fear.
Something else.
Something quiet.
Something… waiting.
He didn't know what it was yet.
But he would.