*CENTRAL PORTAL ACADEMY – AWAKENING HALL – 09:00*
The hall is white. Circular. No windows. No sound except breathing and the low hum of the Awakening Orb.
Seven hundred first-years stand in formation. Black uniforms. Empty sleeves. No ranks yet.
Above us, the Awakening Orb floats. Crystal sphere. Blue light. Pulse steady. It determines everything.
Instructor Vance stands on the platform. Level 6. Face carved from stone.
"Step forward when your name is called. Place your hand on the orb. Do not resist. The orb will determine your rank. Level 1 to 8. S to F. Skillless if nothing appears."
One by one, they go.
Kieran Voss. Serpent Dominion. S-rank.
The orb flared gold. Light filled the hall. Military recruiters stood up at once. Kieran didn't smile. He just stared ahead like he expected it.
Mira Celeste. Lightning Weaver. A-rank.
Blue lightning crawled across the orb's surface. A squad leader contract was already in her hand before she stepped down.
Darius Thorn. Iron Skin. B-rank.
Stone plated his forearms. The crowd murmured approval.
C-rank. D-rank. F-rank.
Each flash brought a different reaction. Respect. Pity. Silence.
Skilless got no reaction. Just silence. And the mark.
*[POV: DAMIEN]*
_Probability of awakening: 0.3%._
_Probability of skilless: 99.7%._
_Status: Pending._
My name is called.
"Damien Pathfinder."
I step forward.
The floor is cold. The orb is warm. My palm touches the surface.
Silence.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
The orb flickered. Red.
*SKILLESS.*
The word appeared above my head in crimson light. Big. Clear. Visible to everyone.
Laughter rippled through the hall.
"Skilless. Another waste."
"His parents were both strong. Genetics failed him."
"Two combat bloodlines. Zero result."
I don't look at them. Don't move. Don't breathe differently.
Instructor Vance's voice cut through the noise. Flat. Final.
"Next."
I step down.
Fred catches me at the exit. Hand on my shoulder. Forced smile.
"You're still you, kid. Skill doesn't define—"
"Save it, Fred."
I walk away.
---
*CENTRAL PORTAL ACADEMY – TRAINING HOUSE – 04:00*
Two weeks later.
The room is cold. Concrete walls. Metal floor. One pull-up bar. One sandbag. One weight rack.
No one else is here. No one comes at this time.
I stand in the center.
Sweat drips from my chin. Shirt clings to my skin. Breathing is heavy. Lungs burn.
Set 47 of 50.
Push-ups. 100.
Sprints. 50 meters x 20.
Weighted strikes. 50kg x 100.
Body screams. Muscles tear. Pain is data. Nothing more.
*[POV: DAMIEN]*
_Skill: None._
_Mana Reserve: 0%._
_Physical Enhancement: 0%._
_Level: 1._
Two weeks of this. Same result.
The red label still burns in my memory.
*SKILLESS.*
I don't clench my fists. I don't grind my teeth. Retaliation means expulsion. Expulsion means no path.
So I endure. Observe. Adapt.
The door slams open.
Four students walk in. B-rank uniforms. Smirks.
"Look at this. Skilless. Still here."
I don't stop. Don't acknowledge.
"Stand still, trash. We need a training target."
I stop. Turn.
Four against one. No weapons. No rules. No witnesses.
The first one moves. Fireball. Palm-sized. Accelerated.
It hits my shoulder. Skin blisters. Pain registers.
The second one moves. Wind slash. Thin. Sharp. Cuts across my thigh.
Blood wells. Fabric tears.
The third one moves. Earth spike. Rises from the floor. Punctures my foot.
Pain is sharp. Clear. Localized.
I don't move. Don't flinch. Don't retaliate.
*[POV: DAMIEN]*
_Pain: Data point. Damage: 3%. Mobility: 97%._
_Retaliation = Expulsion. Expulsion = Failure._
_Endure. Observe. Adapt._
The fourth one steps forward. Raises a fist.
"Hit him. Make him cry. Skilless don't deserve to be here."
The fist comes down.
I catch it. Bare hand. No skill. Just reflex.
His eyes widen.
I release. Step back.
*[POV: DAMIEN]*
_They see prey. Prey doesn't survive. Predators do._
_I am not prey._
The four freeze. Then laugh harder.
"Look at this. Skilless trying to fight back."
They leave. Laughing. Talking about their next target.
I stand in the blood and sweat. Alone.
I look at my hand. Blood on knuckles. Not mine.
I clench it.
*[POV: DAMIEN]*
_No skill. No bloodline. No backing._
_Just flesh. Just bone. Just will._
I walk to the sandbag. Start punching again.
One. Two. Three. Four.
Set 48 of 50.
---DAMIEN'S ROOM – 22:00*
The room is small. Bed. Desk. Bag.
The book is on the table.
Leather. Black. No title. No lock.
I found it in my parents' house after the funeral. The only thing left of them.
Father died on a quest before I was born.
Mother died two years after.
No memories. Only pictures. Only Fred's stories.
_Mother: Fire Mage. S-rank. Combat specialist._
_Father: Swordsmage. A-rank. Hybrid class._
Two combat bloodlines. Two strong awakeners.
One skilless son.
Contradiction.
I sit on the edge of the bed. Stare at the book.
I haven't touched it since I brought it here. Didn't know why I kept it. Didn't know what it was.
Tomorrow is the first outing. Blue Portal #7. Seventy-two hours. Ten goblin cores. Return or die.
If I survive, I'll open it.
If I don't, it won't matter.
*[POV: DAMIEN]*
_Still human. Still normal. Still nothing._
_But not done._
I close the book. Place it in my bag.
Tonight is sleep