A wave of exhaustion crashed over me the moment I shut the door behind me, the hum of the classroom still echoing in my skull. School had been a blur—one long, monotonous lecture after another.
And the lesson on "Talent Bureau Protocols"?
Not even a faint recollection.
I couldn't care less.
I tossed my bag onto the floor and collapsed onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. My mind spun, a chaotic storm of questions tearing at me.
What was I really capable of?
Why did Codebreaker keep everything under wraps?
And most pressing of all—what the hell was I supposed to do in a world where I wasn't even sure what was real anymore?
I let the silence wash over me, focusing on the steady beat of my heart to ground myself.
Slowly, I sat up, grabbing the thin, sleek tablet from my desk. The weight of the world seemed to press down on me, but first things first—school assignments.
They wouldn't do themselves, and even though the last thing I felt like doing was more mind-numbing work, I needed the distraction. My thoughts kept drifting back to my abilities.
My future.
My place in this world.
The tablet came to life with a soft flicker, its holographic interface casting a sterile blue glow across my room.
I hated this thing. I hated how everything in this world was so clean, so… perfect. It felt wrong. Like everything was polished to a fault, too controlled to feel like anything human.
I swiped through my assignment, the screen flashing with rows of meaningless numbers and bullet points. Analyzing population density in urban zones. Yeah, that seemed useful.
I barely registered it. My mind was already elsewhere—drifting back to what I really wanted to understand.
Technomancer.
The term echoed in my mind, an enigma wrapped in a mystery. It wasn't just some class. It wasn't a job or a title. It was a key. It was power.
But it felt... foreign.
I wasn't sure whether to feel exhilarated or trapped. It was technology, yes—but it was also something else. Something... almost mystical.
I'd been through enough in my previous life to know power when I saw it, and this wasn't ordinary.
But strength—that was something I could measure, something I could work for. The luck stat, on the other hand?
That felt like a cruel joke.
Luck had never been on my side. Not in this life, and certainly not in my last. Whether it was my failures in school, my inability to connect with others, or the fact that I'd been assassinated by a shadowy figure with no warning—bad luck seemed to follow me wherever I went.
Sighing, I pushed the tablet aside, my fingers itching for something else. Something real.
I didn't want to deal with assignments right now. I needed answers. Real answers.
I reached out, activating the HUD. The familiar interface blinked to life, a clean and cold representation of GAIA's system. There, laid bare in front of me, were the cold truths of my existence.
I wasn't special. I wasn't extraordinary. At least, that's what GAIA wanted me to believe.
Strength: Low.
Agility: Below Average.
Intelligence: Moderate.
Luck: Nonexistent.
"Figures," I muttered bitterly.
The words were like a slap in the face, but I swallowed the frustration. I was supposed to be average. GAIA had stamped my existence with a D-rank, and that was all there was to it. I scrolled through the display, landing on the Technomancer class.
Just a "Technical Specialist." Nothing flashy. No grand potential.
It was so… uninspired.
It felt like GAIA was trolling me. Mocking me. But I knew better.
I closed my eyes and focused. The Codebreaker system I'd tapped into before flickered in my mind, like a shadow haunting the edges of my awareness. I could almost hear it calling to me—raw, unfiltered power, begging to be unleashed.
I wasn't ready to know the whole truth. Not yet. But I couldn't keep ignoring it either.
"Voice command," I whispered, my throat tight with a mixture of fear and anticipation.
The voice came to life in my mind, smooth, robotic. "Voice command detected. Please state your request."
My pulse quickened. This was it.
"What is Technomancer?" I asked, my voice barely above a murmur.
The response was instant, but cold. "Technomancer: A hybrid specialization combining advanced technological manipulation with latent energy control. Capable of interacting with, modifying, and creating digital constructs within system-based frameworks."
I frowned. That wasn't enough. "And EX rank?" I pressed, feeling the weight of the question pressing against my chest.
This time, the system hesitated. Just a moment—an almost imperceptible pause—but it was enough to make my heart race.
The voice returned, sharper than before. "EX rank: A designation for individuals whose abilities surpass measurable parameters. Classified as 'Apex' within system hierarchy."
Apex.
I sat back, stunned. EX wasn't just rare. It was… unheard of. It was beyond S-rank, beyond anything anyone could even dream of.
I swallowed hard, the realization sinking in, spreading like wildfire through my chest. I wasn't just a Technomancer. I was more. Something different. Something extraordinary.
But I wasn't done yet.
I clicked on the Skills tab, expecting to find an arsenal of abilities. But only one skill appeared. A passive. My heart sank.
[System Cloaking: A sophisticated, high-level stealth mechanism allowing its user to mask digital presence.]
System Cloaking.
That was it. The one skill I had. Not a god-like power. Not some flashy ability to melt enemies with lightning or control fire. No, this was a skill meant for hiding. A skill meant for concealment.
At first, the disappointment was palpable. But as I read the description, something shifted. This wasn't just some low-level trick.
Rank Concealment. Skill and Attribute Masking. False Stat Generation.
This wasn't just about hiding my stats. It was about hiding me.
I could walk through the world, unnoticed. Invisible. Under the radar. And no one—not even GAIA—would be able to see what I truly was.
I could keep my secret.
And that, right now, was exactly what I needed.
I leaned back, a smile creeping onto my face. "Not bad," I muttered, my fingers hovering over the skull icon again.
Then, a notification pinged in my HUD. I didn't want to look at it, but the words caught my eye.
GAIA Talent Bureau
"Welcome, New Talent! Congratulations on your successful awakening! You are now officially recognized by the GAIA Talent Bureau as an Awakened Talent and are part of an elite force maintaining balance and security in our world."
I skimmed the message, my mind still reeling. The Talent Bureau. The academy. A place of power. A place where they'd try to mold me. To control me.
It was all so… suffocating.
I gritted my teeth. "One more thing to deal with."
Then, I saw it. A line that made my stomach churn.
'Prepare to unlock your potential and join a legacy of service and honor!'
Service. To them. To GAIA.
But what if I didn't want that? What if my potential wasn't meant to be used for their control?
I stared at the glowing skull icon. My heart raced. There was a part of me that knew what I had to do. That familiar feeling surged again—the same instinct that had guided me in my past life.
I had five days until my academy assignment. Just five.
And there was no way I was going to follow their script.
I clicked on the skull icon.
The world around me shattered. The walls of my room melted away, replaced by a swirling grid of codes and numbers. I was in.
I felt the rush, the excitement. This was my world. My domain. GAIA's system wasn't something to fear—it was something to conquer.
I focused, the code flowing around me like liquid, shifting and rearranging under my command. I was in control now. This was where I belonged.
GAIA Talent Bureau, I thought, my mind focused on the task.
Lines of code danced before my eyes, breaking apart into cascading symbols. My fingers moved instinctively. I couldn't afford a mistake—this was a delicate operation.
Then, a message flashed across the screen.
[Detecting hacking intent.]
[Condition met.]
[Initiating System Hacking…]
My pulse raced. I had crossed the line. There was no going back now.
[Hacking into GAIA Talent Bureau.]
[Successful.]
[Please issue command.]
I had done it.
And then… the warning flashed.
[ALERT: Unauthorized access detected.]
[System lockdown imminent.]
My stomach dropped. A rush of panic. I'd tripped something—some kind of safeguard. The digital world around me started to collapse, the grid flickering with red alerts.
"No, no, no…" I cursed, frantically trying to keep control.
But just as everything seemed to fall apart, the skull icon pulsed brighter.
[Codebreaker Override Activated.]
[System lockdown neutralized.]
I gasped for breath, the tension in my body easing as the grid stabilized. But this wasn't over. The system was aware. I had stirred something, and I wasn't sure what the consequences would be.
A new notification pinged.
GAIA Talent Bureau Update: Academy Assignment Revised.
Congratulations, you have been reassigned to the GAIA Enforcer Academy.
I stared at the message. Part of me wanted to laugh. Part of me wanted to throw the tablet against the wall. But I couldn't. Not yet.
I had won this round.
But the battle…? It had just begun.
"Alright," I muttered to myself, a grin creeping across my face. "Let's prep for the academy."