Outside the Awakening Center, the streets filled with people. Awakening Day drew thousands of teenagers and their anxious parents to the association's headquarters. The border in the outer rim from Maharlika City's heat was uncomfortable, but the tension in the air was far worse.
The chatter around Cardo shifted and flowed like a rising tide. For many, this was no ordinary event; it was a lottery that determined their fates, and everyone present prayed for good news.
"I heard the Prime Light Guild has scouts stationed right outside," someone whispered beside him. " They're offering direct invitations and signing bonuses to anyone who awakens a C-rank core or above."
"I just want a C-rank core or a mid-tier combat talent," another replied, desperation edging their voice. "I refuse to go back to the factories."
"Don't get your hopes up. Last month, my cousin awakened an E-rank support talent. Now he's mining Aether ore in the Dead Zones. People die out there."
The conversation reminded Cardo of the world's grim reality. The fear of manifesting a low-tier ability or a weak core hovered over the crowd.
Keeping his head down, Cardo navigated through the dense crowd of people. His six-year-old sister, Clarissa, barely reached his waist. She gripped his sleeve tightly, her knuckles white as he guided her through the sea of people.
Inside the building, the outdoor heat vanished, replaced by a sterile chill. Buzzing fluorescent lights irritated Cardo's eyes, and the air smelled of damp concrete and the nervous sweat of teenagers waiting for the association to decide their futures.
"Stop shaking, you big dummy," a sharp voice pierced the din.
Cardo looked down. Clarissa glared up at him, her bright red ribbons a stark contrast to the somber atmosphere. "If you fail to awaken and become a civilian, I'll have to work twice as hard just to feed you. You're already a bottomless pit."
He forced a weak smile and reached down to tousle her hair. "Don't worry, Clarissa, I'll be fine. It's just a drink."
"Don't touch me! You'll mess up my ribbons!" she snapped, swatting his hand away.
As she marched to the waiting area, the tension in her small shoulders was obvious. Her hands clenched into fists, and she refused to look back. The massive Iron Aegis guards patrolling the halls in heavy armor dismissed her as another noisy child, entirely missing the way she bit her lip to fight back tears.
"Test Taker 502, Cardo Dalistan!" a voice rang over the intercom. "Make your way to the Awakening Chamber."
Cardo took a deep breath. Just as he approached the entrance, a quiet voice stopped him.
"Hey."
Clarissa had halted at the edge of the waiting area. The scowl was gone; instead, she watched him with wide, shining eyes, gripping her red ribbons like a lifeline.
"You'd better come out with a high rank," she called out, her voice shaky but defiant. "Don't you dare lose! I know you won't. You're the strongest person I know, dumbass!"
The weight pressing on Cardo's chest lifted a fraction. Warmth flooded back into him. He smiled genuinely and gave her an exaggerated salute. "Understood, boss. Wait right here. I promise I'll make you proud."
Clarissa sniffed, scrubbing her eyes with her sleeve before turning away. "Just go already!"
Cardo took one last look at her before stepping through the doors, carrying that warmth with him.
The chamber felt like a cage of cold glass and metal. An association official stood in the center, the gold lightning bolt crest on his uniform gleaming. He held a tiny vial of Aether serum—a viscous liquid resembling black glass.
"Drink this," the official instructed blandly. "Try not to choke."
Cardo swallowed the serum. It tasted nothing like medicine; it felt like forcing down molten lead that tried to claw its way back up his throat.
[NOTIFICATION: AETHER-ELIXIR DETECTED. INITIATING EVOLUTIONARY SPIKE.]
Fire ignited in his right wrist. A grinding pressure surged through his arm, as if his bones were rearranging themselves. He dropped to the floor, gasping, while the Awakener Detector emitted a shrill whine that drowned out his frantic heartbeat.
The official's gaze flicked to the monitor. The apathy on his face softened into pity. "Hold on. What's this? The resonance is flat."
Cardo clutched his burning wrist. Instead of a glowing crest of power, a dark, unsightly smudge marred his skin. It looked like spilled ink—a broken tattoo that failed to take shape.
"Core Capacity: 1.2 points. Rank E," the official announced, clicking his pen with a sigh. He checked his tablet. "Talent Level: Low. Natural absorption rate is clogged. Innate Ability: Basic Shadow Clone."
An E-Rank core. A trash-tier talent. An innate ability is utterly irrelevant for high-level combat. It was a mathematical death sentence.
The official gestured toward the back door. "Kid, it's not the combat role you wanted, but it isn't the end. You can join the civilian logistics corps or work agriculture in the safe zones. There's honest work out there. Don't lose heart."
Cardo stared at the ugly mark on his skin. The room closed in on him, suffocating and cold. The man's pity cut deeper than disdain.
He had failed.
But as he pushed himself off the floor, he noticed something strange. His shadow stayed crouched where he had been, hesitating before slowly rising like a detached specter.
It had no face, made no sound, and gave off no heat. It was an empty silhouette waiting for commands Cardo didn't know how to give. It felt like a puppet woven from ink, yet a thrumming connection linked him to it.
Exiting the room, his shadow glided behind him like a dark stain across the tiles. He was the lowest rank in the city, marked with a broken tattoo and followed by a silent shadow.
But he was alive. And Clarissa was still waiting for him.
The commuter train departing Maharlika City didn't glide. It wheezed, rattled, and shook, as if on the verge of breaking down. Cardo slouched against the scratched window, resting his head against the vibrating glass.
Behind them, the elegant, Aether-lit streets and gleaming glass skyscrapers of the inner city faded. A deep hum of magical energy resonated as the train passed through the kilometer-thick Fortified Wall. Beyond that protected barrier lay the Outer Rim.
For the millions trying to scrape by, the Outer Rim didn't look like a dystopian nightmare. It looked like any other contemporary town, really. Asphalt roads stretched out, perfectly paved. Concrete townhouses lined the streets in neat rows. The glow of the sign illuminated the convenience store windows, and the parks echoed with the laughter of children.
It was almost pleasant to live in. But that false sense of security vanished the moment you looked up. There was no Aether shield protecting the sky here.
Security on the outer rim was a joke. The privileged Gold and Platinum Guilds couldn't be bothered to patrol the borders, leaving the area to rely on Bronze and Silver-tier guilds operating out of strip malls. They could handle the stray F- and E-rank void beasts that wandered close to the neighborhoods. But if a true calamity struck? The Outer Rim would be wiped off the map before the elite Awakeners bothered to deploy.
Cardo looked down at his right wrist. A rough, unsightly ink stain mark stared back at him—the permanent brand of his E-Rank Core Capacity.
Basic Shadow Clone. A mindless puppet. He let out a heavy exhale and sank deeper into the plastic seat. His Awakening was supposed to be their ticket out of poverty. He was supposed to join a major guild, secure a combat affinity, and move his family inside the Fortified Walls. Now? He was doomed to work logistics for minimum wage for the rest of his life.
Thwack!
"Ow!" Cardo jolted, grabbing his left shin.
Beside him, six-year-old Clarissa let her legs swing back over the edge of the seat. She crossed her arms, glaring at him with a solemn pout, her bright red ribbons bouncing.
"Stop moping," she demanded, sounding like a tiny drill sergeant. "You're being a nuisance and ruining the ambiance of the train car."
Cardo grumbled, rubbing his sore leg. "Clarissa, you just kicked me with steel-toed boots."
She sneered. "And I'll do it again if you keep staring at your wrist like your puppy died. So what if the machine gave you a tiny core capacity? The device is flawed. 'E-Rank' doesn't mean you're inferior."
Cardo raised an eyebrow, a faint smile touching his lips. "Are you serious? Then what does it mean?"
Leaning in, Clarissa pointed a small finger at his nose. "Obviously, it stands for 'Elite in disguise.' It's brilliant. You're just playing the long game so your enemies don't see you as a threat. I read it in a comic book, so it's a proven strategy."
Cardo couldn't help himself. A genuine laugh bubbled up from his chest, breaking the sorrow that had gripped him since leaving the Awakening Center. He reached over and ruffled her hair, ignoring the way she swatted his hand away.
"Elite in disguise," he repeated softly. "Sure. Let's go with that."
With a loud screech, the train pulled into the La Paz terminal.
The moment they stepped off the train, the air hit them with a wall of smell: synthetic pork skewers sizzling on street corners, a pungent mix with the ever-present exhaust. The streets were a sea of weary laborers heading home, their faces drawn, and a few Bronze-tier mercenaries, their armor scuffed and clearly mass-produced, moved among them.
Card let Clarissa hold the edge of his jacket to keep her close as they navigated the congested streets. Ten minutes later, they stood before a modest, single-story house. It wasn't dilapidated, but it had seen better days. A fissure spiderwebbed across the concrete driveway, and the exterior paint peeled from the humidity.
However, the front porch was cleanly swept, and a few stubborn potted plants clung to life by the door.
Cardo pushed the front door open. "We're home!"
"Finally!" a warm voice called from the kitchen.
Aunt Maria stepped out, wiping her flour-caked hands on her apron. The exhaustion of working double shifts in the inner-city laundry district was etched into her face, making her look older than her years. Her smile, however, was as bright as ever. She scooped Clarissa up, ignoring the girl's protests about no longer being a child.
"How did it go?" a gruff voice asked from the living room sofa.
Uncle Jun sat at the coffee table, tinkering with a malfunctioning Aether battery. He had broad shoulders, a thick beard, and a ruined left leg. A decade ago, he'd been a D-Rank Vanguard fighter—cannon fodder for the military on the front lines outside the safe zones. His career ended when a stray Void-Hound breached the perimeter, shattering his knee and sending him back to the Outer Rim on a meager government pension.
A silence fell over the room. Aunt Maria set Clarissa down, twisting the fabric of her apron. Uncle Jun set his tools on the table, his hands pausing.
Cardo drew a deep breath. This was it. The moment of truth. He approached the table, exhaled, and pulled back his right sleeve, angling his wrist beneath the living room light.
The crest did not glow. It was just a dull blemish.
"E-Rank Core Capacity," Cardo said, his voice barely above a whisper. He couldn't meet their eyes. And a clogged talent rate. My innate ability is a basic shadow clone. The official said it might be useful for manual labor. I'm sorry. I failed."
For a long moment, the hum of the air conditioner was the only sound in the house.
Then, Uncle Jun let out a deep, trembling breath. He slumped back into the couch, dragging a calloused hand down his face. He didn't look angry. He looked like he had just dodged a bullet.
"Thank God," Uncle Jun breathed.
Cardo blinked in confusion, his head snapping up. "What?"
Aunt Maria rushed forward, wrapping him in a tight, warm hug. "Oh, my sweet boy," she whispered into his shoulder. "We don't care about the rank. We really don't."
"You don't get it, kid," Uncle Jun said, leaning forward and tapping his ruined leg. "If you had awakened with a combat innate ability or even a solid D-rank core, the Vanguard recruiters would have swooped in. They prey on desperate people from the Rim, offering fat sign-on bonuses for the most dangerous deployments. And to pay our bills, I know you would have taken the bait."
Uncle Jun's voice grew strained. "They act like they're giving poor kids a chance. But they just hand you a cheap weapon, drop you deep into a battlefield station in the Dead Zones, and tell you to hold the line against the breaches." He met Cardo's gaze with steady gravity. "A low-level Vanguard soldier isn't a hero, Cardo. You're just meat meant to slow the monsters down. We were terrified they'd trick you into enlisting, and we might lose you forever."
Cardo stood frozen in his aunt's embrace. They weren't disappointed. They were relieved. Relieved he wouldn't be sent to die in the mud.
"But... the money," Cardo stammered, guilt gnawing at his gut. "With an E-Rank core and a civilian ability, I can only get a job in logistics. The pay is barely anything. How are we going to afford Clarissa's schooling? How will we pay the Aether bills?"
The relief on Uncle Jun's face faltered slightly. Surviving the Awakening and dodging the draft was one thing; paying rent was another beast entirely.
"We'll figure it out," Aunt Maria said fiercely. She pulled back and cupped Cardo's face in her warm hands. "We always do. You're safe, and you're home. That's all that matters right now."
Not wanting to ruin the moment, Cardo nodded. But as he looked at Uncle Jun's shattered leg, the stack of final notices on the kitchen counter, and Clarissa stubbornly retying her red ribbons in the corner, a quiet fire ignited in his chest.
He ran his thumb over the rough brand on his wrist. "Safe isn't enough," he thought. I won't let them drown in debt just to keep me out of harm's way.
He had a low-rank core. A trash talent level. He was a nobody.
But Clarissa had called him an elite in disguise. Starting tomorrow, Cardo was going to figure out exactly what this "useless" shadow clone could really do.