The year was 2112. Technology had advanced in ways that made the impossible seem mundane—hovercrafts zipped through the air, teleportation was commonplace, and the world seemed to hum with the energy of progress. But for Zeke, the hum of the world was distant, muffled, as though he were on the outside looking in.
From the rooftop of Sphere Academy, Zeke gazed at the city sprawling below, bustling with life. People moved about their day, unaware of the quiet struggles of those who lived in the shadow of their powers. Zeke was one of them—an "awakened" student at the academy, but his gift wasn't something anyone would call a blessing.
Zeke's power was a curse.
Every time he blinked, the world around him stopped.
It wasn't teleportation, like people assumed. It was far more complicated—and far more isolating. Time froze for as long as his eyes stayed closed. He could move, think, and act while the world remained suspended in a single moment. But there was no joy in it. It wasn't a power he controlled, and it certainly wasn't one he ever wanted to use. The feeling of time freezing felt too much like the night everything changed—when Chrono, the god-like being, had erased his family. That sensation of time grinding to a halt reminded him of the emptiness he'd felt when he lost them, and it was something Zeke could never bring himself to embrace.
Today was no different. He stood on the roof of the academy, trying to ignore the creeping anxiety that came whenever he thought of using his powers. The others didn't know. No one knew the truth about Zeke's abilities. To them, it just looked like teleportation, but the reality was far darker.
Zeke's gaze shifted when he heard a voice.
"Zeke!" called Luca, approaching with his usual grin plastered on his face. "You're up here again? Drills start in fifteen!"
Zeke didn't smile. He couldn't. His mind was elsewhere, lost in the ever-present shadow of his powers. He simply nodded, acknowledging Luca, and they both made their way down to the combat training grounds.
At Sphere Academy, students were routinely tested in combat scenarios, especially with holographic enemies designed to simulate real-world battles. It was a way for the awakened to hone their skills—yet for Zeke, these drills felt more like a cage. He didn't want to use his powers, and the constant drills forced him to confront that urge.
The other students were gearing up, some joking with each other, others serious about the training. As they formed teams, Zeke found himself paired once again with Luca, his long-time training partner. Luca, with his daggers and quick reflexes, was a contrast to Zeke's long sword, which he carried as a standard weapon.
"Ready to show them what we've got?" Luca asked, bouncing lightly on his feet, clearly excited. He had always enjoyed the fights, the rush of battle.
Zeke barely nodded. He wasn't ready. But he couldn't back down.
The drill began, and Zeke tried to keep his mind focused. His fingers tightened on the hilt of his sword as they were surrounded by the holographic enemies. Zeke didn't need to move fast; his swordsmanship was efficient, calculated. The problem wasn't the enemies; it was the need to fight without relying on his time-freezing power. He didn't want to use it. He couldn't. Every time he felt the pull of his powers, it reminded him of that moment—the moment when his family was erased from existence by Chrono.
When the holographic enemies began to close in on him, Zeke gripped his sword and stepped forward. His movements were precise and deliberate. His sword cut through the first few enemies with ease. His training had made him efficient, and he could handle the enemies with his skills alone. But every swing of his blade brought with it the reminder of how much easier it would be if he just blinked. Time would stop, and he could cut them down without any challenge.
But no. He wouldn't do it.
He kept his eyes open, focusing all of his energy on the fight.
Luca darted around, using his speed and agility to avoid attacks and strike with his daggers. He was quick, fluid, a stark contrast to Zeke's more grounded approach. But Luca couldn't move when Zeke's power was activated. Time was frozen for everyone, including him. All the other students believed that Zeke's teleportation was a special skill, but no one knew that his real power was far darker—and far harder to control.
Zeke's thoughts were interrupted by a sudden lunge from an enemy, and he parried with his sword, narrowly avoiding a hit. The simulation ended shortly after that, with all enemies deactivated.
Luca looked over at him with a grin. "Nice work, Zeke! We make a good team."
Zeke didn't respond. He couldn't. He wasn't proud of the fight. It hadn't been a victory; it had been a reminder. A reminder of what he could do, but wouldn't. And, most painfully, a reminder of what he couldn't control.
"Zeke?" Luca asked, noticing the quiet. "Everything okay?"
Zeke forced a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine."
But he wasn't fine. He wasn't fine at all.
As the other students celebrated their victories, Zeke walked away, his heart heavy. They didn't know what he carried. They didn't know about Chrono. About the curse. About how every time he closed his eyes, he was reminded of the worst day of his life.
He had learned that he couldn't control his power. And he would never let anyone else find out the truth.
As Zeke made his way to the training hall's exit, he noticed Eliza waiting by the door. Her eyes were filled with concern, but he didn't want to talk about it. Not now. Not when his mind was still on the simulation and the haunting pull of his abilities.
"Zeke, you need a break," Eliza said, her voice soft but firm. "You've been at it for hours. You're pushing yourself too hard."
Zeke gritted his teeth, forcing himself to look away. "I'm fine," he replied shortly, before walking out into the corridor without waiting for a response.
Eliza's concerned gaze lingered as she watched him leave, but Zeke didn't look back. The thought of resting, of letting himself feel the weight of his exhaustion—both physical and emotional—was too much. He couldn't afford to stop. Not when it meant facing the truth about what had happened.
He would keep moving forward. No matter the cost.