The auditorium buzzed with restless energy, excitement swirling in the air like a charged storm. The lights overhead cast a faint yellow glow on the worn seats, and the stage, though modest, bore the weight of the moment.
Students whispered, prayed, and shifted in their seats, exchanging hushed whispers and nervous glances.
Today was the most important day of their lives.
Their future and everything they might become would be determined by the bloodline they unlocked today. In a world where strength determined survival, this was a make or break moment.
This was the Awakening Ceremony.
The day seniors across all schools touched the Primordial Core and unlocked the bloodline hidden within their bodies.
Bloodlines were unique abilities encoded within a person's very essence, passed down through generations or created through special occurrences.
They grant extraordinary powers—like enhanced speed, strength, elemental control, or special skills. All of which go beyond what normal humans can achieve.
A student's bloodline tier determined their future potential.
The higher the tier, the more influential their path. Those with high tier bloodlines were hailed as elites, destined to make names for themselves beyond their home cities or bastions.
Irongate Bastion was one of the lower-tier bastions that had begun to show cracks in its once-reliable defences.
Life here was far from luxurious, and though it wasn't a slum, it was a far cry from the gleaming megacities that protected the wealthiest regions of New Earth.
Irongate's school system was no exception. They hadn't produced a high-ranking talent in years, and many students knew today's ceremony would bring more disappointment than hope.
Yet hope still flickered in the auditorium. Every student on stage silently prayed for at least a C or B-tier awakening. They desired a chance to escape the stagnant life of Irongate and rise through the ranks in a better bastion.
A chance to unlock their future and escape the shadow of mediocrity.
Anything was possible today.
On stage, the ZMA—the Zone Management Authority—officers stood like statues in dull grey uniforms, faces stony with boredom.
They did this every year in every bastion, awakening bloodlines across the country. For them, it was just routine.
A glowing Primordial Core floated midair at the centre of the stage. Its surface shimmered with strange symbols that pulsed slowly like a heartbeat.
The ritual was simple: touch the core, let it read your essence, and awaken the bloodline that slept within you.
With each successful awakening, glowing circles would form beneath the student's feet. The number of circles that formed also indicated the tier of the bloodline.
"Lisa Montrell!" The officer called another name from the roster. A girl with green braids practically skipped to the stage, radiating confidence. She placed her hand on the core, and the room watched with baited breath.
One circle. Two. Three. Five glowing rings materialized beneath her feet.
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.
"B-tier!" the officer announced.
B-tier was like hitting the lottery in Irongate. It was a solid and respectable bloodline that definitely had potential.
Lisa grinned like she was already halfway out of the city, basking in the admiration and envy of her soon-to-be-forgotten classmates.
The ceremony continued, the nervousness building and deflating in waves as more students stepped forward.
There were dozens of E-tier and D-tier bloodlines. One poor soul even got an F-tier, prompting an awkward silence only broken by someone trying—and failing—to stifle a laugh.
At the back of the auditorium, Ares Solovar leaned against the wall, his posture relaxed and unreadable. He stood just shy of six feet, with an athletic frame and tousled black hair that always seemed a little out of place.
But even so, his presence carried a strange weight. His classmates had always treated him with an odd sort of respect, though he never asked for it.
As the ceremony dragged on, Ares's gaze stayed steady, observing the students being called with mild detachment.
"Barry West!" the officer called, flipping the page of his roster.
The nervous kid came on stage and touched the core. One circle. The officer didn't even bother making eye contact as he muttered, "F-tier."
Another polite round of clapping from the audience, and the poor kid slunk off the stage with his dreams of grandeur effectively crushed.
Another name was called. Another burst of light. This time, four rings—C-tier. The buzz in the room grew louder, excitement building as students imagined their own turn.
Bloodlines ranged from F to S, with most people falling somewhere between D and B. An S-tier was practically unheard of, but hope still lingered in every heart. After all, what if this was their lucky day?
More names. More awakenings. The officers moved with clockwork precision, and the core never faltered, its glow as steady as the rising sun.
And then, finally—
"Ares Solovar."
The murmurs hushed, and heads turned toward the back of the room.
"Oh, here we go…" someone muttered with excitement.
Ares exhaled softly through his nose, like a guy forced to do a chore his mum had been nagging him about.
He moved through the aisles with unhurried steps, hands in his pockets, ignoring the murmurs that followed him.
The soft thud of his shoes on the floor seemed to echo louder than the others before him, like the air had thickened in anticipation of something inevitable.
He climbed the steps to the stage and stopped in front of the core.
The swirling, glowing mass radiated an unsettling warmth, like the heat of something ancient and dangerous locked inside. The ZMA agent gave him a curt nod.
"Whenever you're ready," he said.
Ares stared at the core, the swirling patterns almost hypnotic. His hand hovered over it for a moment.
The air seemed to pulse, each beat in time with the glow of the core. A small bead of sweat ran down his temple.
Then, with a deep breath, he pressed his palm against the core.
The surface felt cold at first, like smooth glass pulled from ice. But then— heat.
A strange warmth surged through his hand, creeping up his arm like tendrils of fire, threading into his veins, his bones, his very essence.
It was as if the core was digging into him, searching for something buried deep within.
His breath hitched as the warmth turned into a searing blaze, and his vision blurred. He could hear a faint ringing in his ears, as if a bell had been struck somewhere far away, followed by the soft hum of power unfurling around him.
And then—
Light exploded beneath his feet.
A brilliant flash of light burst from the core, so bright it blinded half the audience. A magic circle formed beneath Ares's feet—and then another. And another.
The officers straightened. The students leaned forward in their seats, breathless.
"Five rings!" someone whispered. "No, wait—six!"
The crowd erupted into chaos. This was A-tier! A six-ring awakening was a thing of legends—enough to guarantee Ares a ticket out of Irongate and straight into the upper echelons of society.
But the circles didn't stop.
A final seventh ring spun into existence beneath Ares, glowing with brilliant light.
The entire auditorium froze.
Seven rings. That was impossible.
The murmurs turned into a tidal wave of whispers, disbelief spreading like wildfire. Even the ZMA officers looked rattled. Seven rings meant S-tier, the absolute pinnacle.
There was no way someone in Irongate—a city barely hanging onto relevance—could awaken such a bloodline!
But while everyone else was reeling with disbelief, Ares stood frozen, his calm expression shattered by something none of them could see.
His mind screamed as a new set of symbols appeared before his eyes, burning bright as day.
[Ding!]
System Initialization!
Assimilating with SSS-grade bloodline!]
Ares went pale. His stomach twisted. This wasn't supposed to happen.
The principal said something to Ares, but he couldn't hear him.
All he could hear was the sound of his own heartbeat hammering in his chest. And all he could see were the words flickering in front of him, as clear as a knife's edge.
SSS-grade.
The kind of bloodline no one was meant to have.
And now, it was his.
'Holy Shit...'