Aurel sat nervously in the sterile chair of Room 27, his heart pounding against his ribs. The faint scent of antiseptic filled the air, mingling with the muffled voices and distant hum of machines beyond the door. The nurse beside him was prepping the injection, her movements calm, methodical—completely unaware of the chaotic storm brewing inside him.
This was it.
The Mana Vaccine.
The injection that would break open his genetic potential, allowing him to cultivate mana and, hopefully, make him more than just a nobody. He'd seen it happen to others—watched as ordinary people became extraordinary overnight. He had dreamed of this moment for two long years.
"Alright, Mr. Aurel, just relax," the nurse said, her voice flat, clinical. "You'll feel a slight pinch."
She didn't know that Aurel's pulse was racing, his mind flashing with every possible outcome. He gave her a stiff nod and forced his body to remain still, his muscles tensing involuntarily as she inserted the syringe into his arm.
The pinch was nothing.
The real pain began immediately after.
As soon as the vaccine entered his bloodstream, it felt like liquid fire surging through his veins. Aurel gasped, his body jerking in the chair, hands clutching the armrests as the burning sensation tore through him. Every nerve in his body ignited at once, like someone had set his entire being on fire from the inside out.
He couldn't scream. His throat was locked, his jaw clenched so hard his teeth might shatter. The world around him blurred, the nurse's voice distorting as she shouted something, but he couldn't make out the words. His vision dimmed, reduced to a kaleidoscope of shifting colors, and then—nothing.
He was falling into the void.
And then the real agony began.
It wasn't just pain. It was the complete unraveling of his body. His muscles, his skin, his bones—they felt like they were melting. Every cell in his body tearing apart, liquefying, then knitting itself back together in a grotesque, endless cycle. There was no relief, no end to the torment as his body broke down and reformed itself over and over again.
For what felt like an eternity, he floated in that world of suffering, reduced to nothing more than raw, searing pain. His senses abandoned him; there was no sight, no sound, no touch—only the blinding intensity of his body dissolving and reconstructing itself from the ground up.
And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped.
Aurel sucked in a ragged breath, his lungs burning as if he'd been drowning. His entire body felt... different. Every inch of him thrummed with energy, every muscle tight and coiled like a spring. The pain was gone, replaced by an overwhelming sense of power.
He blinked, his vision swimming back into focus. The world around him sharpened, colors brighter, edges clearer. The nurse was staring at him, her face pale and her eyes wide with shock.
"What... happened?" he croaked, his throat raw as if he hadn't spoken in days.
The nurse didn't answer immediately. She was still staring at him, eyes flicking over his body with something between awe and fear. She finally managed to find her voice. "Y-You... changed."
Changed? He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers experimentally. His skin, which had once been an unremarkable pale shade, now seemed... different. Healthier, with an odd, subtle glow to it. And his muscles—he had muscles now. Defined, taut. His clothes felt tighter, like they were barely fitting him.
He pushed himself up from the chair, his legs wobbling slightly as he stood. The nurse gasped, stepping back as she got a full look at him. Aurel stumbled to a nearby mirror mounted on the wall.
His reflection looked like someone else entirely.
He was taller—maybe five centimeters taller than before. His shoulders were broader, his posture straighter. His body, which had been on the scrawny side before, now rippled with lean muscle. His face... it was him, but not. His features were sharper, more defined, and his black hair was now a shining silver, cascading over his forehead in a mess of untamed strands. But what shocked him most were his eyes—once black, now a deep, unnatural red that glowed faintly under the harsh clinic lights.
"What... the hell?"
He didn't even recognize his own voice—it was deeper, more controlled, as if the very timbre of it had been altered in the transformation. Aurel lifted a hand to his face, his fingers trembling. This was... beyond what he had expected. Far beyond.
The nurse was still frozen in place, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. "That... that isn't normal," she whispered, almost to herself. "Not for a first transformation."
"What do you mean?" Aurel's voice was steady, though his mind was racing. He had expected to feel different after the vaccine, sure, but this... this was something else.
The nurse quickly snapped out of her stupor and grabbed a tablet, her fingers flying over the screen as she pulled up the data from his injection. Her eyes widened again, even more panic in her voice now.
"Your first trait..." She paused, shaking her head in disbelief. "It's... it's Adaptability."
"Adaptability?" Aurel frowned. "Is that... good?"
"It... it's not ranked." Her voice dropped to a whisper, eyes flicking up to him with thinly veiled terror. "All traits have rankings—common, rare, elite—but yours... yours has no ranking at all."
Aurel stared at her, his heart skipping a beat. No ranking? That wasn't possible. Every ability, every skill had a rank. They were always classified, always measurable.
But not his.
The nurse stepped back, clutching the tablet to her chest like it might shield her from something. She was obviously at a loss for what to do next. Her fingers twitched nervously as she typed something, probably contacting the higher-ups for guidance.
Aurel's head swam with confusion. He was suddenly aware of every sensation in his body—the weight of his clothes, the light pressure of his shoes against the floor, the smoothness of his skin. He could even hear the faint buzzing of electricity in the walls, his senses dialed up far beyond what they had been before.
Adaptability. What the hell did that even mean?
The nurse finally turned to him, eyes darting around like she expected something else to happen. "I... I think you should leave for now. We'll... we'll contact you."
Her voice was jittery, and Aurel could tell she had no idea what to do with him. He gave her a slow nod, still trying to adjust to the weird disconnect between his mind and this new body. His movements felt smoother, faster, but also slightly alien, like he wasn't quite used to the strength behind every step.
He left the clinic without another word, stumbling slightly as he tried to adjust to his new, heavier body. The sun had started to set, casting a warm orange glow over Citico City. People bustled around, some already showing off the subtle changes from their own vaccinations. No one gave Aurel a second glance, even though he felt like a completely different person.
As he walked down the street, every breath he took seemed charged with mana, every step rippling with newfound energy.
But inside, he felt uneasy. This wasn't what he had imagined at all.
His first trait wasn't strength, or speed, or anything he could immediately understand. It was Adaptability, something with no ranking, no precedent.
And he had no idea what it would mean for him.