Anastasia stood at the center of her clique like a queen commanding her court, her pink hair catching the sunlight and cascading down her back in soft waves. Her icy blue eyes scanned the group, her presence exuding authority and elegance. She wasn't just their leader—she was their unchallenged monarch.
Cedric, the tall blond boy who was usually full of bravado, now shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. "Did you see that?" he said, his voice unusually strained. "It's not possible. Arin doesn't even have a mutant cell. He's worse than a low grade! How could he do something like that?"
The group exchanged uneasy glances. Their society revolved around power. Every individual in their race was born with a grade, their abilities determined by the strength of the mutant cells in their bodies. Even the lowest grade among them—the Luminary Initiate also known as the "Novice" rank—possessed abilities that made them godlike compared to ordinary humans. Arin's case, however, was an anomaly. He was unranked, a rarity so extreme that his existence wasn't even recorded in their history.
Eleanor, the petite girl with auburn curls, frowned. "Maybe it wasn't him. Maybe we're mistaken."
"No," Cedric insisted, his voice rising with frustration. "I know what I saw. He jumped over that gate like it was nothing—no running start, no hesitation. It shouldn't be possible."
"Shouldn't is an understatement," Anastasia interjected, her voice smooth and cold. She arched a brow, her tone carrying the weight of absolute certainty. "If you think someone like Arin could pull off a feat like that, you're either delusional or stupid. There's no way he, of all people, could do it. He's not even a blip on the scale of power. He's a nobody."
"But I saw him!" Cedric argued, his voice laced with desperation. "It was definitely him. There's no mistaking it."
Anastasia's lips curled into a sneer. "Or maybe it wasn't him at all. Maybe it was a thief—someone impersonating him to throw us off."
The group fell silent. Anastasia's explanation seemed plausible, though the tension in the air remained thick. Cedric opened his mouth to argue further but faltered under her piercing gaze.
Their race prided itself on strength and order, a rigid hierarchy where every individual's worth was measured by their grade. At the top were the Divine Sovereigns also known as the Aetherial Apex, paragons of power and grace who could bend the elements to their will. The scale descended to the Novice, the lowest recorded rank, whose powers, while meager by their standards, were still leagues beyond what ordinary humans could comprehend.
And then there was Arin.
Arin was the outlier—the boy born without a trace of power, an unranked anomaly in a world that thrived on strength. For years, he had been the target of scorn, derision, and outright cruelty. To their race, he was a disgrace, an unfortunate stain on their otherwise pristine lineage.
For someone like him to suddenly exhibit an ability, let alone one so extraordinary, was unthinkable.
As the group resumed walking, following Anastasia's lead, she clenched her fists tightly at her sides. Though she maintained an air of control, her mind raced with possibilities. She had seen the figure leap over the gate. The ease, the grace—it was unlike anything she had ever seen. But more than that, the figure's silhouette was unmistakably Arin's.
It can't be, she thought, her jaw tightening. There's no way he's capable of this. Someone like him doesn't just… change.
"Anastasia," Cedric ventured, his voice hesitant. "If it wasn't him, then who was it?"
She stopped abruptly, spinning on her heel to face the group. "Why are we even wasting time on this?" she snapped, her icy gaze sweeping over them. "Do you think this changes anything? Whether it was him or not doesn't matter. Arin is still a nobody. Nothing he does will change that."
When the group finally reached the central plaza, Anastasia turned to face them once more, her expression imperious. "We're not done here," she announced. "Cedric, Eleanor, I want you to keep an eye on him. If Arin is hiding something, I want to know what it is."
Cedric nodded, though his reluctance was clear. "Got it."
Eleanor hesitated but eventually agreed. "I'll see what I can find out."
Anastasia's gaze hardened. "Good. Because if he thinks he can rise above his station, he's in for a rude awakening."
There really wasn't anyone around here who didn't know how powerless Arin was, Even they themselves had bullied him at some point in time. She smirked as she remembered a particular incident that had occurred three years ago.
Anastasia stood at the center of the circle, her pink hair tied into a high ponytail that gleamed in the afternoon sun. She'd been younger then, her voice sharper, more venomous, and brimming with unshaken confidence. Around her, her group of friends loomed, their eyes alight with malicious glee as they surrounded their target.
Arin had been crouched on the ground, his thin frame trembling. His hair was matted to his forehead, a mix of sweat and dirt smearing his pale skin. He clutched his knees to his chest as if trying to shield himself from their words, though they pierced him all the same.
"Why don't you just disappear?" Cedric sneered, his tone dripping with disdain. "You're a waste of space, Arin. You can't even breathe right without looking pathetic."
Eleanor, ever the instigator, leaned in close, her auburn curls bouncing as she laughed cruelly. "Did you hear him yesterday? He said he wants to be a warrior like the Divine Sovereign. Aetherial Apex! Can you imagine that? Someone like you?" Her words were punctuated with a sharp jab of her finger against his shoulder.
"Pathetic," someone else muttered. The word echoed, bouncing off the walls of the narrow alley where they'd cornered him.
And then Anastasia spoke. Her voice was soft, almost gentle, but every syllable dripped with venom. "You know what you should do, Arin?" She crouched down to his level, her icy blue eyes locking onto his tear-filled ones. "Do everyone a favor and just… end it. You don't belong here, and you never will."
Her words cut deeper than any blade could. Arin's eyes widened, his lips trembling as he tried to speak, but no sound came out. He didn't have the strength to argue, not against them—not against her.
"Look at him," Cedric said, laughing. "He's too weak to even defend himself. Come on, Arin, show us you're good for something."
The first kick came suddenly, slamming into Arin's side and knocking the breath out of him. He gasped, his body curling instinctively as another blow landed, and then another. The laughter grew louder, mingling with the dull thuds of fists and feet against flesh.
Anastasia had watched, her arms crossed, a smirk curling her lips. But even as she stood there, a small part of her felt… hollow. The satisfaction she expected didn't come. Instead, a strange heaviness settled in her chest as Arin's whimpers grew softer, his body lying motionless on the ground.
"Enough!" Cedric finally said, wiping sweat from his brow. "I think he gets it."
They'd left him there, bruised and bleeding, barely clinging to consciousness. His eyes had fluttered open for a brief moment, meeting Anastasia's gaze. She remembered the look in them—a mixture of pain, despair, and something else. Something defiant. And then he'd passed out.
Anastasia blinked, the memory slipping away as the present surged back in. She was standing at the edge of the plaza, her arms crossed and her lips pressed into a tight line. The sunlight was dimmer now, filtered through thick clouds that seemed to mirror her mood.
The group had dispersed, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She hated thinking about that day, hated how it had carved itself into her mind despite her best efforts to forget. She told herself it didn't matter. Arin had deserved it. He'd always been weak, always been a failure.
But now…
Now, the boy they'd left for dead was leaping over gates like a shadow given form. Now, Arin, the nobody, was making her question everything she thought she knew.
Her fists clenched at her sides. No, she thought, her jaw tightening. It's impossible. There has to be an explanation. Someone like him doesn't just… change.