When Rain comes to, a blinding white light is shining from directly overhead, and the cold and pain from before has subsided. As he struggles to open his eyes, the surroundings slowly come into focus. He's stuck in what vaguely reminds him of a police interrogation room from popular media. He's reclined in a dentistry-like chair, and the room is all white with no other furniture. There's what he assumes is one-way glass on the wall he's facing.
Feeling a slight sense of panic start to creep in, Rain cranes his neck to frantically look around the rest of the large room. He appears to be alone, but there's no telling if someone is watching him from behind the mirrored glass. As if to confirm his suspicion, a disembodied male voice rings out from a crappy speaker.
"Oh good, you're awake. Young man, can you tell us your name?"
Rain peers intensely into the darkened glass in front of him, but he's unable to make out anything other than his own reflection. He tries to lean forward for a closer look, but realizes he's unable to move. Looking down, he finally notices...his legs and arms are firmly strapped into the chair, restraining him. A cold hand grips his heart as the severity of his situation finally sets in.
'Ohhhh...just how fucked am I? Did I get arrested? Surely I couldn't have done anything to warrant that. The last thing I remember is.....crawling towards the city entrance.'
At that moment, Rain remembers his grievous stab wound and hurriedly glances down at his body. To his shock, he's been changed into an all grey tracksuit, and there's no sign of blood anywhere on his body. He also can't feel any pain from the wound anymore. In fact, his body feels...great.
'Did they give me drugs?'
Before Rain can contemplate his situation any further, the disembodied voice echoes in the room again.
"Ehem...young man...your name?"
Rain's attention quickly snaps back towards the one-way glass in front of him, and he feels the anxiety from before wash over him once again.
"Uhm....Rain...my name is Rain."
There's a pause from the voice, then the speaker crackles again.
"Good, good...thank you Rain. Can you tell me where you're from? How old are you?"
'How old am I? Are they not going to arrest me if they find out I'm still a minor?'
"I'm...uh, 17. I lived in the orphanage until a few months ago, but I've been in the Rim ever since."
There's another, shorter pause, then a regretful sigh escapes from the speaker.
"I see, only seventeen.....I'm sorry to hear that, Rain..."
As the voice's silence seems to linger, Rain's mind begins to race, and he can't help but frantically blurt out all the questions gnawing at his mind.
"Uhm...sir...I appreciate having my wounds treated and everything, but...can I ask what's going on? Where am I? Who are you? Why am I strapped to this chair? Am I under arrest? I was just trying to make it to the city entrance after I got hurt. If I did something illegal, I apologize, but I don't remember."
After a short delay, there's a response over the speaker. The voice sounds almost...sad.
"You...don't know....I see. You're not under arrest, Rain. You're in a containment facility, inside the military sector of the city. I'm Chosen Aron, a member of the government Marked forces here in HSW-3. As for everything else, well...you've been Marked, Rain. The Marking is what healed your wounds, not anything we did. And I won't beat around the bush, you're here so we can easily safeguard the city from you...in the event that you die during your Trial."
Rain's brain subconsciously processes all the familiar words, struggling to come to terms with what it means for him. HSW-3, or the Third Human Stronghold of Weston, is his city. The man over the speaker, Aron, called himself Chosen...that's the honorific for a specific rank of Marked, called a Paragon.
As for the rest of what Aron said...about Rain...
Rain suddenly remembers the burning chest pain he experienced before losing consciousness, and the implications send a shiver up his spine.
'Marked...that was me being Marked. I'll have to undergo a Trial...'
Even a nobody orphan like Rain knows what that means – he's probably going to die soon, in some unimaginably gruesome fashion. Every remnant of humanity knows the story of the Marked...the tale instills as much fear as it does awe.
Decades ago, when humanity was already teetering from environmental and economic collapses, a new horror emerged – the Rifts. Large distortions in reality that appeared in random places across the globe. The distortions themselves only lasted a few days, and weren't inherently dangerous, but they brought the true terror of humanity to Earth.
Hundreds of hideous, bloodthirsty creatures of all shapes and sizes, now known as the Fel, poured out of the Rifts. Even when the Rifts closed, the Fel they brought would remain. They were unimaginably strong, and even the weakest of them were almost immune to human weapons. Their very physiology seemed to defy the laws of physics, and it was as if they had a singular urge...to devour humanity. In the span of less than a year, the Fel and the mayhem they caused killed off 30% of the world population.
As humanity suffered under this new world order, another change in the fabric of society was taking place – the Marked. At first, it was just rumors of people suddenly screaming in agony for no apparent reason, then later disappearing without a trace. However, with time the frequency and documentation of these disappearances increased, until it was realized that those who were Marked were doomed to fall into a coma and transform into humanoid Fel, wreaking havoc on everything around them.
With this realization came fear of the Marked, and even preemptive executions of them. The world was in absolute, lawless turmoil. This lasted until the first Marked managed to wake from his coma, without transforming into one of the Fel. It was this man who provided the first glimmer of understanding about what was happening in the world, and what was in store for it.
The man revealed that his mind hadn't been inactive during his days-long coma. Instead, he'd spent months navigating a dangerous, otherworldly maze called the Labyrinth, guided by an eerie voice in his head that he called the Echo. What he experienced was known as a Trial.
After overcoming the Trial and returning, he possessed strength, speed, and resilience at the absolute pinnacle of humanity, despite being physically unremarkable before. In addition, he exhibited abilities that could only be described as supernatural. According to him, the Echo said it was his reward for passing the Trial.
His experience was eventually corroborated by other Marked who survived the Trial. As more so-called Champions emerged, it wasn't long before people realized their effectiveness against the Fel. A single Champion could take out a small group of low-level Fel, whereas an entire cohort of heavily armed soldiers would crumple under the same challenge like paper. It was as though the Champions were bred to aid humanity in surviving the Rifts.
With this revelation, Marked transitioned from subjects of fear and violence, to glorified superheroes of humanity. Now, they're virtually guaranteed status and wealth within society. However, that's only for the fraction of them that survive the horrors of their first year after being Marked...
'From what I remember, about one in five people survive the Trial. Honestly, my odds are probably much worse. After all, I'm not a Legacy or even a citizen...I'm just some orphan.'
Within a couple decades of the first Marked emerging, one thing that became apparent was that children of Marked are much more likely to become Marked themselves later on. Between that and the venerated statuses enjoyed by humanity's new Champions, several warrior-like clans ultimately arose, led by the most powerful Marked families. The children of these families, representing several generations of uninterrupted Marked, are known as Legacies.
Given the dangerous state of the world, nowadays all children with citizenship get basic survival and combat training in school. The Legacies' preparation within their own clans is many times more extensive, plus they are showered with invaluable resources. Meanwhile, though the orphanage Rain grew up in was better than being left in the Rim, they didn't provide anything close to the level of training that even normal citizens' children experience.
Rain lets out a shaky breath, realizing that he's been tensely quiet for several moments since Aron explained his situation. If he'd known he was just going to die some horrific nightmare of a death, alone in an otherworldly maze, he wouldn't have struggled to survive his stabbing so much. Honestly, he feels as bitter about it as he does fearful.
"Uhm...I understand the situation now...thanks for clarifying how screwed I am, Chosen Aron. So, how much longer do I have left before.....before the Trial?"
He was going to say 'before I die', but he can't quite bring himself to face it. Call it optimism, stubbornness, or ignorance, or even downright pettiness, but he has a strong aversion to just rolling over, even when it might be in his best interests. He's never heard of any Marked that grew up as orphans or came from places like the Rim, but maybe it happens. Maybe they're smart, and they're just flying under the radar instead of chasing strength and fame.
Oblivious to Rain's mounting bitterness, or at least pretending to be, Aron lets out a thoughtful sigh through the speaker.
"Ohhh....it's hard to say. Based on when the guard found you, when I'm guessing your Mark first appeared, and how long you've been unconscious since you arrived here..."
The crackling of the speaker falls silent, as though Aron is making honest to gods calculations. After a moment, he responds with a confident ring to his voice.
"...hmm...about twenty minutes!"