The Hall of Ascension shimmered with ceremonial firelight, its arched obsidian ceilings carved with ancient runes that flickered faint blue every time a new candidate stepped forward. Suspended crystals hovered in the air, humming softly as if they too anticipated greatness. Banners bearing the sigils of noble clans hung heavy against the walls, each one a silent reminder of the bloodlines that shaped this fractured world.

  Today was the Awakening—a rite of passage where every sixteen-year-old was called to the Sigil Pillar and shown what kind of future they’d been dealt. Some would be chosen by the Arcane Threads and given legendary classes. Others would walk away with rare stats, or a unique skill or affinity that catapulted them into guild invitations, political favor, and a life most of us could only daydream about.

  And then, there was me.

  Jaxon Vale. Son of no one important. Student of nothing useful. Known for slipping through hallways like a ghost and scoring just low enough in combat class to avoid getting expelled or killed. I hadn’t come to the ceremony expecting glory. I just wanted to leave with my dignity still breathing.

  No one told me that would be too much to ask.

  I lingered in the back of the crowd, hands shoved deep in the pockets of my outdated tunic, staring up at the glowing Sigil Pillar like it might have a mercy setting. One by one, the names were called. Each candidate stepped forward, placed their hand on the crystal slab, and watched their stats appear mid-air in glittering gold text.

  "Aria Montclaire. Class: Flameblade. Strength: 16. Intelligence: 14. Unique Skill: Infernal Bloom."

  The crowd roared. A girl two heads taller than me twirled in place, her flaming sword already summoned before the applause finished.

  Another name. Another talent. Another future written in numbers and awestruck gasps.

  The Elders—stoic figures cloaked in crimson and black—nodded in satisfaction with each announcement, recording the outcomes on floating tablets. Their expressions ranged from smug approval to the occasional bored shrug when someone mediocre stepped forward and I could already imagine their faces when I was called.

  If I was called at all.

  Then, as if the universe heard my thoughts and decided to parade me in public, the High Evaluator’s voice rang across the chamber.

  “Next: Jaxon Vale.”

  It felt like a spell had been broken. Conversations stopped, Heads turned and a ripple of laughter spread through the students—quiet at first, like they were trying to be polite about it. Then someone didn’t bother hiding it. A snort. A full laugh. And just like that, I became the entertainment.

  I kept my expression flat as I walked to the pillar, each step pounding against the polished obsidian floor like a countdown to a very personal apocalypse. My fingers curled as I approached the crystal, hesitating for a moment before finally pressing my palm flat against the cool surface.

  The scan was instant. No dramatic lights. No lingering hum.

  Just results.

  Name: Jaxon Vale

  Class: Unranked

  Level: 1

  Vitality: 1

  Strength: 1

  Agility: 1

  Endurance: 1

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  Perception: 1

  Intelligence: 1

  Charisma: 1

  Luck: 1

  Evaluation: Laughable

  It took all my focus not to flinch. The room went silent for half a second before erupting into laughter so loud it drowned out my heartbeat. One of the noble kids clapped mockingly. Another whispered “zero-core” loud enough for everyone to hear. I didn’t need to look up to know that the Elders were already turning their eyes away, their interest gone like a breeze slipping past a locked door.

  There was no fixing it. No retry button. No second chance.

  I turned to leave, trying not to let the weight in my chest turn into something stupid like tears. But then the orb pulsed. Just once. Barely visible. Just enough for me to stop walking.

  A new line of text blinked into existence, faint and green, almost ghostlike.

  [Hidden Trait Activated: Mirror Core]

  Ability Unlocked: Mimic Touch (Lv. 1)

  Condition: Must touch target. Cooldown: 6 hours.

  My breath caught.

  Was this real?

  No one else reacted. No one saw it. The system had spoken only to me. And as I stared, another message slid across the display—this one sharper, colder, and somehow more aware.

  Do not share this Trait.

  The orb’s light dimmed.

  The pillar stopped glowing and Whatever that was—it was hidden for a reason.

  I backed away slowly, masking my face with the same bored detachment I’d perfected over years of being background noise. But my thoughts screamed. Copy skills? With a touch? If this wasn’t a prank or a glitch, it was something powerful. Maybe even illegal.

  I scanned the room. Warriors flexed their newly summoned weapons. Mages conjured sparks for fun. Healers glowed with soft light as they hugged their families.

  If I could touch one of them—just once—I could take what they had. Not forever, maybe, but for long enough.

  Long enough to prove that a 1 across the board didn’t mean I was worthless.

  .

  .

  .

  The walk home was quieter than usual. No cheering classmates. No proud parents waiting outside the hall. Just the sound of my boots scraping against gravel and the system’s words echoing in my mind like a whisper that wouldn’t leave.

  When I opened the door to our tiny flat, the light was already on. My mother sat at the table, flipping through job listings on a dusty screen, while my father stood at the counter, sipping instant coffee like it was a funeral offering.

  They looked up when I entered—but not in anticipation.

  Just… confirmation.

  “Well?” my father asked. He was not hopeful, Just tired.

  I hesitated. My mouth opened, then closed. The silence stretched too long.

  My mother sighed and turned off the screen. “We heard.”

  Of course they had. News spread faster than stats around here.

  “1s across the board,” my father said, as if reading from a death certificate. “No class. No prospects.”

  “I—” I started, but I didn’t even know what I wanted to say. Actually, I might be able to copy the abilities of the most powerful people in the world? Sure. That would go over great.

  “You’re not a fighter,” my mother said, gently but firmly, like a nurse delivering bad news. “Maybe it’s time to stop dreaming about becoming someone you're not.”

  My chest tightened at her words.

  “There’s an opening at the district archives,” she continued, not meeting my eyes. “Steady pay. Safe work. You’re good with numbers. Filing requests, maybe data entry. You’ll have time for hobbies. Maybe even move out in a few years.”

  The words felt like a door slamming shut.

  Not cruel. Just final.

  “Better to be realistic,” my father added. “Not everyone’s cut out for the guilds and there's no shame in it.”

  But there was shame. So much of it I could barely breathe.

  They weren’t angry. Even that would’ve been easier. They were disappointed—but worse than that, they were resigned. Like they’d been expecting this outcome since the day I was born.

  I nodded once as I didn’t trust myself to speak.

  After a few awkward moments, my mother stood and kissed the top of my head. “We love you, Jax. But maybe it’s time to stop chasing stories.”

  I managed a smile but It still hurt.

  And then I went to my room, closed the door behind me, and stared at my reflection in the cracked mirror on the wall.

  A boy with no power.

  No strength.

  No future.

  Unless… I made one myself.

  [Mirror Core Active]

  [Potential: Undefined]