Varen watched his parents leave for work in the morning.
"I'll take advantage of this opportunity and study at home, he he he," Varen thought, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
He had done this many times before and always gotten away with it. His grades were excellent, and his parents weren't particularly strict. His life could be summed up in two words: pretty leisurely.
Varen returned to his room, rummaging through the place where he had hidden the evidence of yesterday's mess. He searched for a while before finding what he was looking for.
In his hands lay a book titled Introduction to the Awakened. Even though Varen knew there was no chance for him to awaken an ability at his age, youth was full of imagination. Most people wished to be the protagonist of their own story, and awakening an ability was the clearest path to realizing those fantasies.
The book's cover was worn along the edges, a clear sign of how many times it had been flipped through. And this certainly wouldn't be the last.
"…Yesterday I stopped at this section," Varen muttered. "Ability tiers… It seems simple enough, but with how random awakenings are, I wonder who even decided these standards, and why everyone agreed to them."
As he read about ability tiers, Varen couldn't help but imagine himself awakening a top-tier ability. According to the book, such an awakening would propel him straight to the pinnacle of humanity, making him one of the rarest elites and earning him focused nurturing from the nation's most prestigious academies.
Awakening an ability was not dependent on any known factors.
"Heh. That just means no one actually knows the reason behind it," Varen scoffed, continuing to read.
Anyone could potentially awaken an ability, and the forms it could take were endless. As long as one could imagine it, someone out there had likely awakened something similar.
Because of this, the grading system described in the book focused not on the nature of the ability itself, but on its impact on the world.
All abilities were classified into four tiers, each representing the potential height an ability could reach.
Tier 1: The most commonly awakened abilities, still within the realm of what ordinary humans could manage.
Tier 2: Solid powers that bordered on the inhuman.
Tier 3: Those who awakened Tier 3 abilities were the elite of humanity, roughly one in ten thousand. Their powers were known for their vast range and overwhelming effects, and at their peak, they were no different from the mythical creatures described in fairy tales.
Tier 4: A legendary level not seen for ages. Abilities capable of affecting the world on a fundamental level, often tied to disasters and calamities recorded in history.
Before he realized it, Varen had become completely engrossed, reading through the examples listed for each tier, fascinated by the bizarre and diverse powers people had awakened.
Varen spent hours reading Introduction to the Awakened, only noticing the passage of time when hunger clawed at his stomach.
"That's enough for now. Dinner's already prepared. I'll eat quickly, then head out."
Thinking of the food his mother had made, a smile spread across his face. Varen loved his parents deeply. Even though they forbade him from delving too deeply into the world of the gifted, he knew it came from concern. They couldn't bear to watch him be disappointed if his awakening never came.
Their love was unconditional, and Varen was grateful for it. These thoughts lingered as he finished every last bite of dinner.
Sssrrinnng
Just as he was about to head out, the sound of the doorbell echoed through the house.
"…Who could that be?"
Varen stood still for a moment, staring at the door as the sound faded.
Visitors were rare. He was an only child, and whatever relatives he had were little more than names in old records. Still, he felt no fear. Security in the city was tight, and besides, if someone truly meant harm, they wouldn't bother knocking. According to his own logic, they would simply tear the door apart and walk in.
With that thought reassuring him, Varen walked over and opened the door.
A tall figure stood roughly two meters away from the entrance. The man's presence was overwhelming. Varen felt the steady breath brushing his neck, sending a chill down his spine. He wore a tight, dark uniform that clung to his body, glowing lines tracing along the fabric and over his bulging muscles like veins of light. It was neither civilian attire nor anything Varen had ever seen before.
Varen's first thought was simple.
This was not a normal person.
The man's face was stern, his posture rigid, his eyes fixed on Varen with professional detachment.
"Varen Locke?" he asked.
"Yes," Varen replied, confused but still unafraid.
"I am a representative of the Order of Continental Defense, Silverhaven Branch," the man said evenly. "I regret to inform you that your parents were caught in the aftermath of a pursuit earlier today."
Varen blinked.
The words entered his ears, but they did not settle.
"We were in pursuit of Jonah Mercer, a Second Tier awakened with vibration-based abilities," the man continued. "He escaped into the crowded southern district of Lumenharbor. Jonah attempted to use the concentration of valuable researchers in that area as leverage for his survival. Unfortunately, a criminal must be neutralized regardless of collateral damage to preserve public safety."
He did not notice the color draining from Varen's face.
"During the chase, a section of the street near your parents' research center collapsed as Jonah Mercer's final act of resistance."
"Dozens of civilians were killed," the man said. "Your parents were among them."
"In cases such as yours," he continued, "where a citizen is orphaned as a result of a criminal suppression operation, you are required to accompany us for remuneration processing and documentation related to your new status. Your parents will be posthumously awarded—"
Silence followed.
At least, for Varen.
He didn't scream. He didn't cry. He didn't even breathe differently.
The same words hovered before him. Parents. Killed. Aftermath. Street collapse. They didn't connect. They couldn't. His parents were at work. They said they might come home late. They always did.
This didn't fit.
The man continued speaking, but Varen heard nothing. His gaze drifted past the glowing uniform, past the quiet street beyond, into nothingness.
This is wrong.
No. This is a mistake.
Mom made dinner.
Dad turned off the TV.
They said goodnight.
They said don't worry.
Why does that matter?
Why is he here?
Why is the door open?
Something twisted violently inside his chest. Anger surged, then collapsed into emptiness. Sadness tried to surface but found no shape to cling to.
Nothing made sense.
Varen stood frozen, his mind trapped in a loop of shattered thoughts that refused to form meaning.
Life, it seemed, did not care for fairness or preparation when it decided to strike.
Peace was never guaranteed, and safety was nothing more than a fragile illusion. As long as one lacked power, all they could do was wait, unaware of when the world would suddenly decide to take everything away.