I woke up to a dim light filtering through the ventilation shaft.
But it wasn't morning light, just pale, like the reflection of a sky forgotten centuries ago.
I didn't know how much time had passed. No windows. No clock. No sound to tell me the world outside these walls was still moving.
Everything was the same. The hard floor. The same worn-out mat. The same crumbling wall and low ceiling. My cold room hadn't changed.
I sat up slowly. My body didn't ache, but it felt heavy. As if the air itself had thickened.
Then I heard a sound. Faint. Like footsteps echoing on the stairs or in the nearby hallway. I didn't move. I just listened.
Then…
A single knock on the door.
I hesitated. Stood up. Placed my hand on the handle… It moved on its own. The door opened with a soft sound, as if whoever was behind it didn't want to disturb the silence.
Outside, the same hallway I knew too well. Dim blue lights. Faded tiles. Walls that had memorized my gaze.
At the end of the hallway… a woman.
Tall. Hair tied back. Wearing a tight gray coat. In her hand, a small device pulsing with a green light.
She didn't smile.
She simply said: "You woke up earlier than expected. Good."
I didn't know what to say, or even how to ask the right question.
She continued: "Your data was sent to us. You've been assigned a seat among the new trainee batch. A two-month preliminary program. If you pass, your eligibility as a Scavenger will be considered."
I replied slowly: "I didn't ask for this."
She raised an eyebrow, as if she'd heard that sentence many times before.
"You haven't asked for anything since leaving the orphanage, have you? And yet… here you are."
"Who are you?"
She said: "We don't matter. The place does. And what we offer… is a single opportunity."
Then she turned around.
"Follow me."
I did. Without asking.
We descended together down the creaking metal stairs, each step whining softly like it was tired of being walked on.
We crossed an empty lobby, a long corridor lined with rusted pipes leaking thin mist, then stepped out into the street.
The city was just as I left it yesterday: gray, silent, unbreathing. Cars moved, but no one looked. Faces walked, but the eyes had no direction.
I walked behind her. She didn't glance back. And I didn't need to know where we were going.
There was nothing remarkable about the path… but it felt different. Maybe because I was being led to it, not running from it.
We passed a wall covered in old symbols, some forbidden, some etched in mana ink, then she turned into a side gate I hadn't noticed before.
There was a guard. He didn't look at us. Just touched a small panel with his hand, and the door opened.
We stepped inside.
The air changed.
Sterile scent. Polished concrete walls. White lights gleaming above me.
She said without looking: "The place you'll sleep in is different from where you slept. And here… begins the next phase."
We passed through another corridor, this one going upward.
On the sides, metal doors. Each with a number. Then she stopped in front of one.
She pressed a small button, and the door slid open.
She said: "Your room. Your uniform and schedule are inside. Adjust quietly. Don't talk much. Don't ask questions that change nothing. Here, silence is strength."
The room wasn't any warmer. But it was equipped.
A metal bed, a locker, a screen hanging in the corner, and a paper file on the desk.
I opened it.
A strange emblem was on the cover: a black circle crossed diagonally by a thin silver line.
Below it, my name — or what remained of it:
"Reis — Experimental Program (Batch G)"
I flipped through the pages.
Training Schedule:
06:00 — Run through the lower tunnel 07:00 — Advanced physical drills 08:00 — Environment Analysis (Second World) 09:00 — Survival Simulation 10:30 — Short Break 11:00 — Medical Evaluation 13:00 — Low-Level Mana Adaptation Training
At the bottom, a single line of warning:
"Late arrivals will have their eligibility for continuation re-evaluated."
I sat on the bed, reading the paper again and again.
I didn't understand everything… but I understood what mattered.
I had been chosen. Or at least… thrown into a place most considered impossible.
And I didn't know why, but a part of me, the part that hadn't died yet, whispered:
"If you weren't good enough for them… then prove they were never good enough for you."
I woke up before the alarm rang.
I didn't need a sound to tell me the day had begun.
My body, despite the hard bed, felt charged. Not with energy… but with something sharper.
I put on the uniform: gray, rough, tight at the shoulders, like the old coat… but without the smell.
On the chest, a small badge engraved with a symbol: a flame inside a circle.
I left the room.
The corridors were wider this time, but empty. No familiar faces. No one watching. Only me, my shadow, and the dim blue lights leading me downward.
I reached the lower courtyard.
There stood a group of boys and girls — their ages between ten and maybe thirteen.
All wore the same uniform, but their eyes were different.
Some afraid. Some composed. Others staring like they'd entered a museum they didn't understand.
I was the last to arrive.
But no one turned.
Not even the instructor, who stood at the edge of the platform.
A tall, bald man with a scar from his ear to his neck.
His voice, when he spoke, didn't come from his throat… but from the wall behind him:
"Welcome to the first preparatory station."
He paused.
"Officially, none of you are considered Awakened. Some of you carry dormant cores, some carry nothing. But your bodies… might adapt to mana over time. Or might not."
Silence.
"We have two months to decide: who is worth keeping… and who is not worth our time or resources."
A girl raised her hand, hesitantly: "Does that mean… we're Scavengers?"
He gave a dry, low laugh.
"Scavenger? A scavenger returns alive from the Second World. You? You're far less than that. You're just… possibilities."
Then he pointed behind him to a small gate opening into a foggy tunnel.
"Go through that corridor. Your first test. Physical. Simple. If you don't reach the other side within ten minutes… don't bother coming back."
I stepped forward.
The air inside the tunnel was thick, filled with the scent of rust and warm steam. The walls were slightly damp, like they were breathing.
I ran.
The footsteps behind me were uneven. Some gasping, some limping. But I didn't look back.
All I thought was…
I didn't ask for this place. I wasn't chosen for any skill. I was thrown here, like I was thrown into the orphanage… like I was discarded by a mother who never touched me.
But this time, I wouldn't stay still.
My legs were heavy. My breath fast. But ahead, a faint light appeared.
The end of the tunnel.
I pushed with everything I had left.
I leapt out, gasping, knees trembling.
Then I heard his voice behind me, cold, like he was recording, not speaking:
"Reis. First to arrive."
I didn't smile. I didn't look at him. I just looked up at the gray sky above me… and felt, for the first time, like I was carving out a place with my bare hands.
A place… for me.
Mine alone, like my room on the sixth floor. Like my voice echoing through empty hallways.
But the difference was: this place… would listen.
Even if they all ignored me, they'd know I passed through here.
I sat on the ground after crossing the tunnel, breathing slowly, watching the other trainees arrive, collapsing near the gate, panting, some crying.
But I didn't look at them. I didn't want to see them. Didn't want to be with them.
I don't know if anyone noticed me. I don't need them to.
I'm here… not to be part of something.
I'm here to become something they can't ignore.