The grinding screech of metal on concrete was Jonah's only warning.
He hid behind a mountain of rusted plating just as the Ant soldier stomped past, its red optical sensor scanning across the ruined land. The huge drone was old tech, probably from before the Great Collapse, but its legs could still crush a person into paste. Jonah held his breath, the air filled with the smell of rust and decay.
He was deep in the Undercroft, the forgotten and collapsed sector of the bright city above. Down here, sunlight was a myth, and the only currency that mattered was survival.
The Ant soldier continued its patrol, its heavy steps fading into the messy rubble. Jonah let out a quiet breath and peeked over his cover. The coast was clear. His prize was just a few feet away: a faintly glowing crystal stuck in the chest of a dead drone.
Weak, but worth a meal.
With practiced speed, he darted out and then pulled the core free with his rusty multi tool, and stuffed it into his scrap bag alongside a handful of tech scraps. It wasn't much, but it would have to do.
Today was not a day for risks.
Back in his shelter – a small space carved out behind a fallen support pillar – Jonah laid out his small savings. A few credits and a dozen of low grade Beast Cores. Enough for a week's food, maybe.
It was the sum total of his sixteen years of life.
He looked up, through a crack in the broken ceiling, at the bright, fake glow of Cinderfall City.
Today was Awakening Day.
His one and only chance to escape the Undercroft.
His one and only chance to make a name for himself, to see if he was unbelievably lucky to join the prestigious Mystic Phoenix Academy.
It was a long shot, the kind of foolish hope that got people killed down here. But it was the only shot he had.
The journey to the city's central plaza was always a shock to the system.
One moment, Jonah was navigating the dark maze of the Undercroft. The next, he was stepping off a service elevator into a world of blinding light and fresh air.
Towers of reflective glass and white steel pierced the sky. Magnetic powered vehicles hummed silently along elevated tracks. People walked with their heads held high, dressed in fabrics that didn't have a single tear or stain.
They looked through him as if he were a ghost. He pulled the hood of his worn jacket tighter, feeling a familiar mix of awe and resentment.
Thousands of other teenagers, all sixteen year olds like him, were already gathered in the plaza. Their faces were a mix of desperate hope and fear. They came from all walks of life – from the wealthy to the working class and even a few other scrappers like him, trying to scrub the ruin dust from their skin.
But they were all here for one reason.
In the center of the plaza stood the Awakening Pillar.
It wasn't just a pillar; it was a mountain. An impossibly tall tower of black, humming stone that rose from the heart of the city and disappeared into the clouds. It was the source of all power.
The ceremony began. A stern-faced official called out names, and students moved forward in small groups. They placed their hands on the cold surface of the Pillar.
For most, nothing happened.
A flash of disappointment, a quiet shame, and then they were escorted away, their one chance gone forever.
For a lucky few, it was different.
A hand would touch the stone, and a faint glow would answer. A simple mark – a stylized flame, a sharp-edged blade, a solid shield would appear on their skin.
A murmur of envy and excitement would ripple through the crowd. These were the successful ones. The new Awakened. The future Elites.
Jonah watched, his heart pounding a nervous rhythm against his ribs. He had seen beasts in the Undercroft that could tear a man apart. He had fought for every scrap of food he'd ever eaten. All that hardship, all that struggle, it had to count for something, right?
The Pillar measured potential, and if he had anything, it was the will to survive.
"Group 74!" the official called out. "Jonah Aldrich, Kai Cenat, Lina Del Ray, Ren Sonya, Sora Mccabe!"
He walked forward, his footsteps feeling light on the polished stone. He took his place next to four other nervous teenagers, their faces pale with anxiety. He spared them a glance. They looked soft.
"Place your hand on the Pillar," the official said, his voice flat.
Jonah took a deep breath, the clean air feeling foreign in his lungs. This was it.
Everything or nothing.
He pressed his palm against the black stone.
It wasn't cold. It was electric.
And then came the pain.
It was not a spark. It was a supernova.
A flood of chaotic energy flooded his mind, a deafening roar of pure power that felt like it was tearing him apart from the inside out. His vision exploded into a kaleidoscope of screaming colors. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. It felt less like an Awakening and more like his entire soul was being grabbed, shredded, and violently rewritten into something new.
A huge gasp came from the crowd.
A blinding pillar of golden light erupted from where his hand touched the stone, shooting straight into the sky. It was not the faint glow of the others.
It was a disaster. Alarms all over the plaza started ringing loudly, a sharp scream of emergency
Through his blinding pain, Jonah looked down at his arm
It was burning. Not with heat, but with golden light. He could see the impossible image of a tattoo burning itself into his skin – a complex sigil of a great, nine headed beast, its form blurry and ancient.
The world spun. A loud roar filled his head, blocking everything out.
Then, darkness took him.