The rusted pipes of Chen Xi’s cramped slum apartment groaned in protest as he scrubbed the toxic grime from his skin with harsh, abrasive soap. The icy water did nothing to cool the simmering energy in his veins.
He stared into the cracked mirror above the sink. His physique hadn't drastically changed—he was still lean—but the muscle density beneath his pale skin felt like woven steel cable.
"Zero," he muttered, pulling on his only clean set of faded grey utility clothes. "The city's System Monolith scans biomagnetic fields during the Awakening Ceremony to assign classes and determine potential. Can you spoof the scan?"
"Affirmative," Zero’s cold, melodic voice echoed in his mind. "The public-access terminals operate on an outdated heuristic model. I will construct a biometric firewall. Your [Martial Artist] class, anomalous stat growth, and my presence will be entirely scrubbed. What parameters do you wish to project?"
"Mechanic. Rank-C potential," Chen Xi answered without hesitation. "High enough to gain entry into the Lower Military Academy's logistics division, low enough that the megacorporations and syndicates won’t put a tracking collar on me."
"Parameters locked. Initiating localized dampening field."
An hour later, Chen Xi stood in the sprawling, neon-lit Sector 4 Awakening Plaza. The stark contrast between the towering, pristine Obsidian Monolith in the center and the surrounding shantytown was a bitter reminder of Earth’s hierarchy. Thousands of seventeen-year-olds were herded into the square by heavily armed Peacekeepers in powered armor.
The crowd was split. On one side stood the orphans and slum-dwellers, eyes wide with the desperate hope of a lottery winner. On the other side, separated by a physical barricade, were the syndicate heirs and corporate descendants, wearing climate-controlled smart-suits and sneering at the rabble.
Chen Xi kept his head down, blending perfectly into the sea of grey-clad scavengers.
"Look at this trash. Hoping the System will bless them when they haven't ingested a single nutrient-enhancer in their lives."
The arrogant voice cut through the murmurs. Chen Xi didn't need to look up to know who it was. Zhao Ming. The young master of the Ironfang Syndicate, the ruthless gang that controlled Sector 4's scavenging routes and underground black markets. Zhao Ming was built like a tank, his arms already sporting expensive, military-grade cybernetic neural-links.
Zhao Ming’s eyes swept over the scavengers and landed on Chen Xi. A cruel smirk twisted his face. "Hey, rat. You met your scrap quota yesterday?"
Chen Xi forced his shoulders to slump slightly, adopting the submissive posture he had perfected over years of survival. "Yes, Young Master Zhao. Dropped it at the eastern depot."
Zhao Ming snorted. "Good. Pray you awaken as something useful, like a Loader. My hounds need someone to carry their gear when they hunt."
Chen Xi offered a weak, obsequious nod. In his mind, however, the golden UI flared to life.
[Target Locked: Zhao Ming]
[Estimated Threat Level: Low]
[Vulnerability Scan: Cybernetic neural-links installed poorly. Striking the C4 vertebrae with 120 lbs of force will cause catastrophic nervous system feedback and instant paralysis.]
Not yet, Chen Xi told himself, suppressing the icy killer instinct the breathing technique had honed. Let the loudmouth have his stage.
The ceremony began. Names were called. Most of the slum kids touched the Monolith and received devastating news.
Unawakened.
F-Rank Cultivator.
Unawakened.
Then it was Zhao Ming’s turn. He swaggered up to the towering black stone and slammed his palm against it. The Monolith violently pulsed, erupting in a blinding crimson light. A holographic projection materialized above the plaza.
[Awakened: Zhao Ming]
[Class: Plasma Esper]
[Potential: Rank-A]
The plaza erupted in gasps, followed by cheers from the Ironfang Syndicate members. A Rank-A combat class meant guaranteed entry into the Elite Inner City Academy. He was instantly untouchable. Zhao Ming turned back to the crowd, his hands already crackling with raw, unstable plasma. He looked like a conqueror.
"Chen Xi." The automated drone voice called out.
Chen Xi walked past the gloating Zhao Ming, keeping his face entirely blank. He reached the Monolith. Up close, it hummed with a synthetic vibration. He placed his hand flat against the cold stone.
For a fraction of a second, the Monolith flickered, a dangerous gold light threatening to bleed through the black stone.
Suppress it, Chen Xi ordered mentally.
"Firewall engaged. Feeding false data block now," Zero replied.
The gold vanished, replaced by a dull, steady green glow. The holographic text manifested lazily above him.
[Awakened: Chen Xi]
[Class: Novice Mechanic]
[Potential: Rank-C]
A collective sigh of absolute disinterest rippled through the crowd. Rank-C Mechanic. A glorified repairman. Useful enough to draft into the military’s supply chain, completely useless on a battlefield.
"A wrench-monkey," Zhao Ming barked out a laugh as Chen Xi stepped down, tossing him a mocking salute. "Perfect! You'll be fixing my plasma-rifles, rat. Don't worry, the Ironfangs will make sure you don't starve in the logistics division."
Chen Xi bowed his head in mock gratitude. "Thank you, Young Master Zhao."
A Peacekeeper drone buzzed over to Chen Xi, dispensing a dull bronze wristband—his admission token to the Lower Military Academy. He snapped it onto his wrist, hiding the faint silver scar where the black polyhedron had merged with his bloodstream.
Zhao Ming saw a weak, destined-to-be-exploited mechanic. The Peacekeepers saw another cog in the Pan-Asian war machine.
They were all wrong. The bronze bracelet meant access to the Academy's lower-tier workshops, free alloy rations, and high-voltage power grids. It was all the fuel Zero needed.
Chen Xi walked out of the plaza, his mind completely calm. Zhao Ming could have his plasma and his applause. Chen Xi was going to build an empire of steel, and the Ironfang Syndicate was just going to be his first source of raw materials.