The world had changed.
Since 2030, power had begun to stir in every corner of existence. Humans discovered abilities hidden within themselves—though only a few learned to use them. For most, the gift slept, waiting for the right moment to wake.
Animals shifted. Plants grew minds. The land twisted to mirror its new masters.
Nations fell. Cities burned. Fifty years of war—Awakened against those desperate to control them. Civilizations vanished, replaced by systems built on fear and power.
Some called them heroes. Others, monsters. Most were both.
Now, borders were suggestions, and trust was rarer than gold. Every human—Awakened or not—had to ask themselves one quiet question: what would I do if the world listened when I spoke?
Ren blinked, dragging himself back into the lecture hall. The teacher's voice rolled over him like white noise.
"And that, students," the man said, "is how the world became what it is today. Power is not a gift, nor a curse—it's a force. How you wield it will decide your place in the world."
Ren rested his chin on his hand. He'd heard this speech before. Same tone. Same message.
A force, power, ability… sure. He almost smiled. All philosophy until somebody blows a hole through your roof.
From the front row, a girl raised her hand.
"Sir, there are only two Awakened in this class. Why are the rest of us here? Isn't this Awakened history?"
The teacher smiled like he'd been waiting for it.
"Because the history of the Awakened is the history of mankind. They're not another race—just us, one step further. And one day, any of you could awaken. You should know the story you might step into."
A few students chuckled. One leaned back toward Ren.
"Hey, Ren, what was your thing again? On-off or something?"
He laughed at his own joke.
Ren didn't answer. Everyone already knew he'd awakened years ago—his ID said Level 2, Ability: Trigger.
Nobody asked what that meant. They just assumed it wasn't much.
He preferred it that way. Most people only cared about ranks and spectacle.
His gaze drifted to the window. The sun caught the academy's high walls, bright and cold.
History of humankind, he thought, the corner of his mouth twitching. Yeah. More like history of whoever's strong enough to write it.
The lecture ended on a tired note, words dissolving into the scrape of chairs and half-hearted chatter. Ren slid his notebook into his bag and left without waiting for anyone. The hallway smelled faintly of chalk and cheap deodorant.
Outside, the academy's main gate buzzed with the evening crowd. Students streamed out in packs, laughing too loud, trying too hard. Ren walked alone, earbuds in but no music playing—just habit to keep people from talking to him.
The sky had started to fade orange when he cut through the narrow street beside the convenience store. That's when he heard it: a scuffle, the kind of noise that didn't belong to laughter.
He slowed.
A group of students stood around someone near the wall, five of them, uniforms messy and attitudes worse. One was shoving another boy—a smaller kid with glasses—back against the bricks. The leader's wrist gleamed faintly red, the telltale shimmer of an Awakened ability simmering under his skin.
He stopped. Exhaled.Not my problem. Not my mess. Not today.
Then came the sound—someone's head hitting stone, followed by that sharp, mean laugh people make when they know no one will stop them.
Ren stopped. Looked back.
And sighed.
He dropped his bag against a lamppost and walked over, hands in his pockets.
"Hey," he called out. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried. "That's enough."
The leader turned, smirk curling up like he'd been waiting for a reason. "Look who it is. The quiet guy from Class B. You got business here?"
Ren's eyes flicked to the boy on the ground. "Yeah. You're standing in my way."
That earned a few laughs. The leader cracked his knuckles, red light pulsing along his arm now—his ability starting to surface. "You think you're tough because you're Awakened too, huh? What was it again—on and off something?"
Ren didn't answer.
One of the others lunged first, maybe to impress the leader. Ren sidestepped, caught the guy's wrist, and used his own momentum to throw him into another. Both went down hard.
The laughter stopped.
The leader frowned. "Fine. Let's see how good that little 'on-off' trick really is."
His arm ignited fully now, heat warping the air as he swung.
Ren didn't move until the last second. He caught the punch with both hands—skin sizzling for an instant before the red light blinked out. The Awakened boy froze, confusion spreading as the glow in his arm vanished.
Ren tilted his head slightly. "You done?"
The guy stumbled back, clutching his now-normal hand. His friends took one look at Ren's expression and decided they'd had enough.
They dragged the leader away, muttering curses that sounded more scared than angry.
The boy with glasses wiped blood from his lip, staring at Ren like he'd just seen a ghost.
"You should go," Ren said.
"...Thanks."
Ren slung his bag over his shoulder again. "Don't mention it."
As he walked off, he could still feel the faint burn in his palm. It faded quickly. He flexed his fingers and glanced at them once.
Avoid trouble, huh? he thought, almost amused. Yeah, I'm doing great at that.