"Hah..." Waylen, a young man with slouched shoulders and downcast eyes, trudged along the desolate street. The townsfolk around avoided him like the plague, unwilling to lend a helping hand.
'Why did this have to happen now... I'm so unlucky.'
The young man, Waylen, was rather frail, clearly not having lived in the best conditions. The tattered clothes clung to his form, and his worn-out shoes scuffed against the uneven pavement. However, what stood out the most, was the glowing red symbol carved straight into his forehead.
As he continued down the street, with a clear destination in mind, people around him were looking at him with pity. After all, it was not his fault.
"Waylen, don't die out there."
It was a familiar voice, Jared, it was the owner of an inn he had frequented often.
"I won't die in a place like that, you know me."
He looked at Jared, an older guy he's known for pretty much his entire life.
"Sure, tough guy."
Jared's eyes bore a mix of concern and understanding, realizing the trial that awaited Waylen.
Waylen had grown up in poverty, abandoned by his parents and had to survive on his own. He had grown rather tall, considering the average person out here, but never managed to fill out his frame due to lack of food.
He was approaching a relatively outstanding building, every district had one of these, it was a mandatory requirement after all. The building was of clear superior quality compared to the almost broken down houses around it, this district was rather poor.
A guard was standing at the entrance, eyeing Waylen with pity in his eyes. Waylen was not very likely to survive the trial he had been forced to take.
The building was known as the gateway. It might very well end up being the end of Waylen, but he had no choice.
"Kid, follow me."
The guard's voice held a note of sympathy, and Waylen obediently trailed behind him, the symbol on his forehead heating up gradually.
Not responding, Waylen was lead into the building, to the reception area.
"Do you have an ID?" asked the receptionist, as she was noting something down in a nearby computer of some sort.
"No..." replied Waylen.
"Name? Age? Family?" she then asked.
"Waylen, just Waylen. I'm 16... Maybe? I'm an orphan."
"I assume you have no address either?" she sighed.
Silently nodding, the receptionist then noted down the minimal information he had.
"Please follow him."
The receptionist pointed to another guard standing next to the desk.
He was brought into a room, where he was thoroughly questioned about his life, and the guard continued losing hope the more he heard.
"When did your sigil appear?" he asked.
"Just this morning..."
The guard was writing down everything in a hurry, since Waylen was practically a ticking time bomb.
"So, how much do you know about the trial?"
"Don't I just need to survive?" said Waylen with slight hesitation.
"Ha... You should know there's more to it than just that. You need to make an impression, surviving alone isn't always enough. Do you know how you're given a rating at the end? If it's not good enough, your soul might collapse." the guard explained in a serious tone.
"Just remember that the trials are never impossible, everyone can make it if they take the right decisions, don't give up hope just yet. We don't know what you might face in there, as it's different for everyone. Just stay calm and think it through; I can tell you're resilient."
Waylen had never had an actual education, so he knew next to nothing about all of this. All he knows, is that he'll be put through a trial to awaken his sigil.
"I got it... I don't think I have much time left."
"Alright, just remember to check your runes first thing first, once you're in there, you should instinctively know how. Use the given traits to your advantage, they won't be completely useless no matter what type."
The burning sensation in Waylen's forehead was steadily increasing, and he was having trouble dealing with the pain.
"Your time is up, come with me quickly."
The guard dragged Waylen along into a rather large hall, and in front of him was... Empty space. Literally nothing there, not even light could travel through it. This was a gateway, something that humanity can't yet comprehend.
"You got this, I'll be here when you've made it back out."
The guard then gestured towards the gateway, and Waylen approached it.
Darkness. Darkness flooded his vision, and Waylen was nowhere to be seen.
---
One day, people all around the world woke up with a burning symbol seemingly carved into their forehead. The ones afflicted by this would feel the symbol heating up gradually, and after a short while they would suddenly burst into flames if nothing was done about it.
The sigils weren't the only thing that appeared, gateways were opened up all around the world, and the afflicted were beckoned towards them, almost knowing by instinct where to go.
Many of the afflicted just entered the gateways out of desperation when the burning became too much, somehow they just knew that this was their only option.
Sadly, most didn't return from there, and they had seemingly been erased from the world. Those that did, however, returned with superhuman capabilities.
These gateways were an entrance to the place called the Fractured Realm, according to the runes found within. Entering the Fractured Realm required you to have an awakened Sigil; if you didn't, nobody knew what happened, but you'd disappear never to be seen again.
However, these sigils and gateways weren't the only thing that appeared. Abominations, creatures nothing like humanity had ever seen before, would storm out of the so called entrances, tears in reality that had opened up at random places-just like the gateways.
Modern weaponry was capable of dealing with most of them, but some of them required weapons of mass destruction. Humanity was thrown straight into the apocalypse, and fighting back against these monster was becoming increasingly more difficult.
And that's how the world was thrown into crisis, barely recovering after an entire century, trying to assimilate with this new reality that no science could explain.
---
"Wake." he heard a voice... One that was very oddly familiar to Waylen.