105 AG…

Tomorrow is my sixteenth birthday.

Well, technically, it's my second time being sixteen. But in this world, it's my first. And tomorrow? Tomorrow matters more than I care to admit.

It's not about having some cake and pretending everything's okay. It's not about the fake cheer and empty greetings that flood my inbox.

No, tomorrow is about the Talent Awakening—an event that will determine my value, my worth, my future.

The world likes to pretend that your life is your own. But in reality, you're nothing but a cog in a machine that GAIA built. Everyone's on a track laid out for them from birth. Talent Awakening is the day they decide what track you'll be on.

Not that I'm thrilled about it. Hell, nothing about this feels like a "celebration."

I shifted my gaze to the tablet in front of me, its sleek interface glowing with its usual eerie precision. I could practically hear GAIA whispering behind the screen, guiding my every thought, predicting my next move before I made it.

Every tap filled in the blanks. Predictive algorithms were practically begging me to stop thinking altogether. It made everything feel so... sterile, so automated.

Sure, the technology here was efficient.

But that's all it was—efficient.

There was no challenge. No creativity.

Just a life running on rails GAIA laid down for us. A life that's been curated so carefully that it's impossible to see any cracks—unless, of course, you're paying attention. And trust me, once you see them, you can't unsee them.

The usual blue hologram flickered to life in the corner of my vision. It was another reminder from GAIA's Talent Bureau, flashing in bold, oversized letters.

"REMINDER: Talent Awakening. Report tomorrow at 0900 hours."

I swiped it away with a grunt, irritation gnawing at me. This was the seventh reminder since yesterday. It was like GAIA couldn't trust me to remember something so important.

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered under my breath. "I get it, Big Brother GAIA. Miss it, and I'm toast."

Failure to show up for Talent Awakening wasn't just discouraged. It was a one-way ticket to becoming an example. The stories of those who skipped the awakening were passed around like whispered urban legends. Those poor souls didn't just face punishment—they were... reset.

GAIA's enforcers didn't just toss you in some cell.

No. They "reset" you.

The tech they used to do it?

No one knew the details. And frankly, I didn't want to find out.

I'd learned one thing in my six months here: there's no room for rebellion in a world like this. You either play by the rules or disappear.

I still missed my old life. The one where I was a hacker—where I had control.

Now?

Well, now I was stuck in a world where everything felt more like a digital prison.

I couldn't help but recall the night I died. The apartment I came home to—ransacked. My equipment trashed. My files, everything I'd spent years building... all gone in an instant.

I was furious. Devastated.

Then an assassin showed up.

Clean shot. No warning. Just a bullet in my chest.

And then, the world went black.

And when I woke up again, I was Noah Adler, sixteen years old, with pink hair and a body that felt like it had just been thrust into someone else's life.

A new world, where an all-powerful AI named GAIA ran everything, from the economy to careers to health to the very talent you'd awaken on your sixteenth birthday.

Some people would call it a gift. Others, like me, would call it a curse.

But hey, I've always been good at adapting. That's what kept me alive, even in my last life (well before I died).

And this? This world wasn't any better. It was just a different kind of hell.

But there was something comforting about the routine here, even if it was built on a foundation of control. A bit of stability. Maybe that's why I couldn't help but feel... something when I thought of tomorrow.

The Talent Awakening, the event that would decide the next chapter of my life.

I could still feel the faint pulse of the system humming around me, reminding me just how insignificant I was in the grand scheme of things.

*********

A knock at the door broke through my thoughts.

"Noah, time for dinner!" Brixley's voice was muffled but cheerful, as always.

I sighed and got up, stepping out of the quiet solitude of my room. It was time for one of those family dinners I'd come to tolerate—and, in some twisted way, look forward to.

The dining table wasn't much. Worn edges, chipped corners. It wasn't some grand, elegant piece, but it was ours. And for the first time in my life, I felt the weight of that.

Damian, my older brother, was already seated. His military-grade boots lay kicked off to the side, worn down from another day as a low-ranked awakener in a small guild. He looked exhausted, but there was something comforting about his presence. His gruffness was a constant in this strange world.

Across from him, Brixley bounced in her seat like a kid on a sugar high. Her middle-school enthusiasm was almost infectious, despite the world we lived in. The sight of her—so innocent, so full of hope—made my chest tighten in a way I wasn't ready to face.

In the center of the table was a lopsided cake, decorated with candles that were jammed into place with zero care or precision. It wasn't much, but to me, it was everything.

"Surprise!" Brixley grinned, her eyes lighting up as she proudly presented the cake. "Happy early birthday, Noah! Since Damian can't be here tomorrow…"

Damian smirked as he lit the candles with a cheap, flickering spark device. "It's not much, but it's tradition. Even if you don't get anything impressive tomorrow, we'll still celebrate."

"Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence," I replied dryly, though my voice softened. Their effort, their thoughtfulness... it tugged at something inside me I hadn't realized was there.

For the first time in years—hell, in two lifetimes—I wasn't alone.

"Are you nervous about tomorrow?" Damian asked between bites of his meal.

"Kind of," I admitted, sitting down beside him. "But I'm also curious. I mean, what talent will I awaken? Will it be anything worth having?"

Brixley leaned forward, her wide eyes fixated on me with earnestness. "So, what kind of talent do you hope to get, Noah?"

I paused, the question catching me off guard. I hadn't really thought about it like that before. The pressure of tomorrow had been weighing so heavily on me that I hadn't considered the simple wish for something useful.

"Something useful," I replied, more seriously than I'd intended. "Anything that'll make things easier around here. Help us get by, you know?"

Damian's face softened, and he gave me a reassuring smile. "It's okay if you don't get something amazing. I'll still support us all."

His words hit harder than I expected. In that moment, I realized that despite the pressure of tomorrow, the one thing that truly mattered was that I wasn't in this alone anymore. I had a family that cared. Even if I didn't know what my talent would be, I had them by my side.

Dinner passed in a comfortable silence, filled with small talk and quiet exchanges. It was the kind of evening I hadn't had in my past life, and though it wasn't perfect, I could feel myself starting to warm to the idea of having people who gave a damn about me.

**********

After dinner, I retreated back to my room, the weight of the day catching up with me. The exhaustion was quick to settle in, and before I knew it, I was lying down, the cool sheets enveloping me as I drifted into a deep sleep.

***********

It was late—almost midnight—when I was yanked from sleep by the sudden appearance of my HUD.

"Happy Birthday, Noah Adler."

The voice of the system rang in my ears, mechanical and hollow, like it always did.

I groaned, half asleep.

"Thanks, I guess," I muttered, rubbing my eyes.

Notifications flooded my vision—birthday wishes from people I didn't even know, automated messages from the system. It was all so impersonal, so manufactured.

No one actually cared.

It was all scripted, a mandatory greeting that everyone got on their birthday.

But then, something caught my eye.

One message was from an unknown ID. A name that made my blood run cold.

"Codebreaker?"

I opened it, my curiosity piqued despite myself.

The moment I did, blinding pain shot through my head like a jolt of electricity. My skull felt like it was splitting open. I gasped, clutching my temples, and for a split second, the HUD glitched—flickering erratically before the entire system shut down.

"What the hell?" I staggered back, clutching the sides of my head as I tried to steady myself.

And then, just as suddenly as it had started, everything went dark.

My HUD rebooted, glowing blue once more.

[System reboot complete.]

[Installing Codebreaker…]

I blinked, utterly dumbfounded.

"Is this normal? Is it supposed to happen when you turn sixteen?" I muttered to myself, but deep down, I knew this wasn't a typical awakening.

I didn't have time to dwell on it. The ache in my head still throbbed, but curiosity gnawed at me.

"What the hell did I just awaken?" I thought aloud.

As I tapped the screen, my HUD glitched. 'ERROR: Unknown Systems Detected.'

Then everything went black.