Kael Morgan woke to the bell and the reek of mold, knowing with perfect clarity that he’d never escape.
Not the orphanage.
Not the debt.
Not the morning ritual that sorted them by minor humiliations before carrying them into a future that would not make room for him.
But this was the day of the Awakening Ceremony, and a pathetic sliver of hope was all he had left.
A hope that for once, his boots wouldn’t have holes, his breakfast wouldn’t be sour, and Noah would still stand beside him after the announcement—looking at him the way he used to, back when neither of them was worth anything yet.
He rolled out of his cot before the second bell, already sweating.
The dorm’s air was humid as always, the summer rot working through the cracked foundations of the Blackwood Facility.
“Stop shaking.
You’re making the bunk rattle.”
Kael looked up.
Noah was already dressed in his threadbare uniform, aggressively straightening his collar in the cracked mirror.
Unlike Kael, Noah carried himself with a quiet confidence.
They had shared this miserable corner of the room for ten years.
They had stolen bread together, taken beatings from the debt-master together, and whispered into the dark about the day they would awaken strong abilities and finally leave this hell behind.
“I’m not shaking,” Kael lied, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“Just…
thinking about the debt.”
Noah scoffed, a confident smirk breaking through his nerves.
“Forget the debt.
Today’s the day it disappears.
D-rank or higher, Kael.
That’s all it takes.
Then we’re heroes—actual heroes.
And we’re never seeing Mr.
Graves, or this mold, ever again.”
Kael offered a weak smile.
Noah had always been the optimist.
But Kael couldn’t shake the heavy dread in his chest.
In a world where your worth was dictated by the mana in your blood, orphans from Blackwood rarely amounted to more than E-rank cannon fodder.
The Central Plaza of the capital was a world away from the slums.
Massive crystal spires pierced the sky, and the air hummed with refined mana.
Today, in a rare display of “public generosity,” the elites opened the main Awakening Ceremony to the dregs of society.
It was all for show.
The wealthy families sat in hovering VIP boxes, draped in silk and enchanted jewelry, looking down at the rows of terrified orphans as if they were livestock up for auction.
At the center of the plaza stood the Monolith—a towering shard of obsidian that measured the soul’s potential.
“Noah of Blackwood!” a mechanical voice boomed across the plaza.
Noah gave Kael a quick, firm nod.
“See you on the other side,” he whispered, before jogging up the pristine white steps.
Kael held his breath.
He watched his best friend place a trembling hand against the cold surface of the Monolith.
For a second, nothing happened.
Then, a brilliant, piercing azure light erupted from the stone, washing over the entire plaza.
The dull murmur of the crowd instantly vanished, replaced by collective gasps.
“The mechanical voice rang out, stripped of its monotone and laced with programmed enthusiasm: “Noah Vance!
Rank: C!
Ability: Kinetic Acceleration!”
The plaza erupted.
A C-rank from the slums!
It was a statistical anomaly.
Within seconds, representatives from the Hero Academy were already swarming the steps.
Noah looked dazed, staring at his glowing hands, before a pristine man in an Academy uniform ushered him away toward the VIP section.
Noah didn’t look back.
He did it, Kael thought, a genuine rush of joy fighting through his own paralyzing anxiety.
He actually did it.
“Morgan, Kael!”
The joy drained out of him so fast he felt light-headed, leaving only a hollow chill.
He stumbled slightly on the first step, acutely aware of thousands of eyes on his scuffed, oversized boots.
He reached the Monolith.
The stone was warm from Noah’s touch.
Kael closed his eyes, prayed to whatever ancient gods still listened, and pressed his palm flat against the obsidian.
He waited for the light.
He waited for the rush of power.
Nothing happened.
A heavy, oppressive silence fell over the plaza.
Kael opened his eyes.
The Monolith wasn’t glowing blue, or red, or even the dull green of an E-rank.
It was letting out a sickly, sputtering gray pulse—like a dying candle fighting for air.
The mechanical voice buzzed, glitching slightly before delivering its verdict with absolute, crushing apathy.
“Kael Morgan.
Rank: F.
Ability: Adaptation.”
The silence held for exactly one second before the laughter started.
It didn’t come from the orphans; they were too terrified.
It came from the VIP boxes.
Rich teenagers pointed and sneered.
“F-rank?
Did the machine finally give up and start handing out pity scores?” “Adaptation.
So what, he’ll learn to mop in two directions instead of one?” “They let this one through the gates just to watch it fail.”
Kael couldn’t breathe.
The blood rushed in his ears.
F-rank.
The lowest possible classification.
The rank of manual laborers, of slaves bound to lifelong debt.
“Move it along, useless.” A guard shoved Kael down the steps.
Kael stumbled, his scraped knees stinging against the marble.
He pushed himself onto his hands just as a shadow fell over him.
A heavy boot planted itself on his back, grinding him into the stone.
“Well, well, well,” the greasy voice said.
Mr.
Graves.
Of course it was.
“Looks like your tab just got extended, Morgan.
I’ve got a spot in the mana-mines with your name on it.
You’ll be chipping rocks until your bones turn to dust.”
Kael scrambled out from under the boot, his eyes frantically scanning the VIP section.
He just needed Noah.
Noah was a C-rank now.
Noah could sponsor him, buy his debt—they had promised!
He spotted Noah standing among a group of young, elegantly dressed elites.
Kael took a step forward.
“Noah!” he called out, his voice cracking.
Noah froze.
The rich kids around him turned, their faces twisting in disgust as they looked from Kael back to Noah.
“You know this rat?” a tall boy with a silver crest on his chest asked, his tone dripping with disdain.
Noah stared at Kael, and for a split second, Kael saw the boy he’d shared a decade of misery with.
Then Noah’s gaze flickered to the silver-crested boy beside him, and the recognition vanished, replaced by a cold, calculating blankness.
A flicker of shame crossed his face, so quick Kael almost missed it, before it was buried under a mask of indifference.
Noah took a deliberate step back.
“No,” Noah said, his voice loud enough to carry.
“I don’t know him.
He’s just some trash from the facility.”
The words hit Kael harder than Graves’ boot.
The air left his lungs.
He stood completely frozen as Noah turned his back on him, walking away with the elites, laughing at a joke Kael couldn’t hear.
The world went quiet.
The laughter of the elites, the jeers from the crowd, Graves’s grip on his collar—it all faded to a dull roar.
There was nothing left.
Mr.
Graves grabbed the back of Kael’s collar, hauling him up like a stray dog.
“Fun’s over, rat.
Back to your cage.”
As Kael was dragged away from the gleaming plaza and back toward the shadows of his impending slavery, the world seemed to slow down.
His vision blurred, a mix of unshed tears and a strange, creeping static.
Then, right in the center of his vision, the world stopped entirely.
A translucent blue screen materialized in the air, glowing with an unnatural, cold light.
[Ding.]
[Error detected in societal evaluation algorithm.]
Kael blinked, his breath hitching.
What?
[F-Rank: Adaptation registered.] [Processing…
Processing…
Error.]
The text flickered rapidly, turning from a sterile blue to a deep, ominous crimson.
A voice—the same that had delivered his verdict but now stripped of its public echo and resonating inside his skull—suddenly shifted.
It took on a tone that sounded entirely too sentient.
And faintly sarcastic.
[Congratulations.
Humanity has officially underestimated you.]
[Restriction: Broken.] [The Infinite Evolution System is now online.]