The first thing Aiden Cross heard every morning was the sound of water dripping into a bucket.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
It was strangely comforting.
Some people woke up to alarms.
Others woke up to the smell of coffee or the voices of family members moving through the house.
Aiden woke up to the sound of a leaking roof in a one-room apartment on the edge of New Haven City’s eastern district.
He opened his eyes slowly and stared at the ceiling.
Still there.
That was good.
In New Haven, old buildings had a habit of collapsing when people least expected it.
The digital clock beside his mattress read 5:02 AM.
“Another day,” he muttered to himself.
His room wasn’t much to look at.
A single mattress sat in one corner beside a rusted fan that only worked when it felt particularly motivated.
A folding table occupied the center of the room, buried beneath utility bills, notebooks, and a stack of Hunter magazines dating back nearly five years.
The newest magazine rested on top.
Its cover featured Arthur Blackwood.
The youngest S-Rank Hunter in history.
Nineteen years old.
Handsome.
Rich.
Strong.
Everything Aiden wasn’t.
The headline beneath the photo read: «BLACKWOOD HEIR TO LEAD HUMANITY’S NEXT GENERATION.» Aiden stared at it for a few moments before letting out a laugh.
“Talk about setting unrealistic expectations.” He sat up, stretched his arms above his head, and immediately regretted it as his shoulder popped loudly.
He was eighteen.
His body had no right making those noises.
The apartment’s refrigerator contained precisely three things: – Half a loaf of bread.
– One egg.
– A bottle of ketchup.
“Looks like we’re eating like kings today.” He cooked the egg, placed it between two slices of bread, and called it breakfast.
Life had never been particularly kind to him, but it hadn’t been especially cruel either.
He’d grown up in Saint Aurora Orphanage after being found on its doorstep as an infant.
There had been no note, no explanation, and no clues about who his parents were.
Mrs.
Palmer, the woman who ran the orphanage, often joked that the universe had simply misplaced him.
“If your parents are out there,” she’d once told him, “I hope they’re embarrassed.” He smiled at the memory.
Mrs.
Palmer had raised dozens of children over the years, but she’d always treated him as though he were her own.
Aiden checked the calendar hanging beside the door.
One date had been circled in red.
July 22.
Awakening Day.
Tomorrow.
His smile faded slightly.
For most people, turning eighteen meant getting a driver’s license, attending college, or finding their first job.
For people born after the Gates appeared, turning eighteen meant discovering who they were.
Every year, millions underwent the Awakening Ceremony.
Some became Hunters.
Others didn’t.
It wasn’t fair.
It wasn’t equal.
But neither was the world.
Forty years ago, Gates had opened across the planet without warning.
Humanity had discovered very quickly that bullets meant very little to creatures capable of breathing fire.
Then came the Awakening.
Classes.
Skills.
Mana.
Humanity’s answer to extinction.
The rest was history.
Aiden grabbed his jacket and headed for work.
The city was already awake.
New Haven stretched endlessly beneath the gray morning sky.
Towering skyscrapers stood alongside massive anti-monster barriers.
Giant holographic advertisements floated between buildings, promoting Guilds and famous Hunters.
One advertisement displayed a smiling woman in white armor.
SAINT HELENA.
SS-RANK HUNTER.
THE SHIELD OF HUMANITY.
Another featured the Eclipse Guild accepting new recruits.
People loved Hunters.
They had become celebrities, soldiers, and symbols of hope all at once.
Aiden couldn’t blame them.
Hunters were the reason humanity still existed.
His first job was at a convenience store.
His manager, Mr.
Hollow, was a sixty-year-old man who had perfected the art of looking disappointed.
“You are two minutes late.” “It’s 5:59.” “Exactly.” “Work starts at six.” “You’re still late.” Aiden had stopped trying to understand the old man years ago.
By noon, he’d restocked shelves, cleaned the floor twice, and prevented a child from accidentally stealing seventeen candy bars.
The child had cried.
His mother had cried louder.
Mr.
Hollow had somehow blamed Aiden.
It was a normal Tuesday.
During his lunch break, he sat outside the store eating instant noodles while scrolling through Hunter forums on his phone.
The discussions were exactly what you’d expect.
“I heard an SS-Rank awakened in Japan!” “My cousin’s friend’s brother became a B-Rank!” “There’s no way Arthur Blackwood isn’t secretly a time traveler.” Aiden snorted.
The internet remained undefeated.
A notification suddenly appeared on his screen.
UNKNOWN NUMBER.
He answered immediately.
“Hello?” “Aiden, dear.” His expression softened instantly.
“Mrs.
Palmer.” “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” “Just having lunch.” There was a brief pause.
“You’re nervous about tomorrow.” It wasn’t a question.
Mrs.
Palmer had always possessed an annoying ability to read him.
“Maybe a little.” “That’s normal.” “What if I don’t awaken?” “You will.” “And if I don’t?” “Then you’ll still be Aiden.” Simple.
Straightforward.
Very Mrs.
Palmer.
He leaned back against the wall.
“Easy for you to say.” “No, dear.
Easy for you to forget.” Her voice grew gentler.
“Do you know what I remember about the day we found you?” Aiden frowned.
“You’ve never told me.” “You were smiling.” “What?” “You couldn’t have been more than a few days old, and somehow, you were smiling.
The officer who brought you in said it was impossible.” He didn’t know what to say to that.
“I’ve spent eighteen years watching you help people despite having every reason not to.
Whatever happens tomorrow, don’t let the world convince you that your worth can be measured by a Class.” His grip tightened around the phone.
“I’ll try.” “I know.” By the time the call ended, his noodles had gone cold.
The rest of the day passed quickly.
After finishing his shift at the convenience store, he spent three hours delivering food across the city.
His final delivery took him to the Blackwood District.
The difference was impossible to ignore.
Clean streets.
Private security.
Mansions large enough to house entire apartment complexes.
People often said Hunters protected humanity.
What they didn’t mention was that powerful Hunters lived like royalty.
As he handed a customer their order, he caught sight of a massive holographic billboard nearby.
Arthur Blackwood stood atop the corpse of a dragon, his silver sword pointed toward the sky.
“The future belongs to those strong enough to seize it.” Aiden stared at the advertisement for a few moments.
“Must be nice.” “Jealous?” He nearly jumped.
An elderly man sat on a nearby bench feeding birds.
“A little.” The old man chuckled.
“That’s healthy.” “You think so?” “Of course.
The day you stop wanting more is the day you stop moving forward.” Aiden considered that.
“Did you awaken?” “Many years ago.” “What Class?” The old man smiled mysteriously.
“An old man’s class.” “…That’s not a real answer.” “It’s the only one you’re getting.” People in this city were strange.
As he turned to leave, the old man spoke again.
“Tomorrow will be difficult.” Aiden froze.
“How do you know?” The man simply smiled.
“You have the eyes of someone standing at a crossroads.” By the time Aiden looked back, the bench was empty.
“Okay.” He glanced around.
“That’s officially the weirdest thing that’s happened today.” Night had fallen by the time he reached Saint Aurora Orphanage.
The moment he opened the door, several children tackled him simultaneously.
“AIDEN!” “Did you bring snacks?!” “You always ask that first.” “Because it’s important!” He laughed and produced a bag from his jacket.
The room immediately descended into chaos.
For the next few hours, he helped with homework, repaired a broken bookshelf, and listened as twelve-year-old Emma confidently explained why she would become the world’s greatest Mage.
“What if you become a Tank?” he asked.
“Impossible.” “Why?” “Because Tanks are boring.” Mrs.
Palmer nearly choked on her tea.
“You should never say that around a Tank.” “I’ll apologize after I become an S-Rank.” Aiden smiled.
Children really did make everything seem simpler.
As he prepared to leave, Mrs.
Palmer stopped him near the door.
“You’ll come tomorrow after the ceremony?” “Of course.” She adjusted his collar.
“You’ve grown up.” “I’d certainly hope so.” “I’m serious.” Her expression softened.
“No matter what happens tomorrow, remember that there will always be a place for you here.” For some reason, those words stayed with him long after he’d left.
The rain had returned by the time he started walking home.
The streets shimmered beneath the glow of neon signs and passing vehicles.
For the first time in weeks, he allowed himself to imagine it.
A Class.
Any Class.
Swordsman.
Mage.
Healer.
Even Tank.
Just something.
Something that would tell him he belonged in this world.
His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden emergency broadcast.
Every screen in the city flickered simultaneously.
WARNING.
GATE INSTABILITY DETECTED.
DISTRICT SEVEN.
PLEASE REMAIN CALM.
People barely reacted.
Gate incidents happened almost every week.
Still, Aiden found himself staring at the image on the screen.
A Gate floated above an empty street, its blue surface swirling endlessly like an ocean suspended in the air.
Beautiful.
Terrifying.
Humanity had spent forty years living beside miracles and nightmares.
Somewhere beyond that Gate, monsters waited.
And somewhere far beyond even them, something ancient opened its eyes.
It had no name.
Not anymore.
Names were for creatures that lived among others.
It had slept for so long that time itself had become meaningless.
Then, suddenly— It felt him.
A soul unlike any it had encountered before.
Bright.
Stubborn.
Unyielding.
For the first time in thousands of years, the Primordial Chimera became curious.
Countless golden eyes opened within the darkness.
And somewhere in New Haven City, completely unaware, Aiden Cross stood beneath the rain searching for his apartment keys.
Tomorrow, the world would tell him what he was.
Tomorrow, he would stand before the Awakening Crystal alongside thousands of others.
Tomorrow, his future would finally begin.
Or so he thought.