"When I think that it's been fifteen years now..." Michael said to himself, his hand tangled in his hair.
Michael had been living in this strange and fascinating world for fifteen years now. Fifteen long years waiting for a sign, a force, or something supernatural to appear to guide him in his quest for power. Yet, despite his memories of his past life and the knowledge he had been able to retain, nothing and no one had manifested. No mysterious mentor, no magic system to give him a decisive advantage, nothing. He was alone with his determination.
Michael remembered his birth on Nova. Unlike other children, he had been conscious from the moment he formed in his mother's womb. This experience, both fascinating and disturbing, had allowed him to understand from the first moments the constraints of this new world. At birth, he had immediately observed, listened and analyzed. Thanks to his already awakened mind, he had learned to walk twice as fast as average, astonishing his parents and the doctors. At three years old, he had mastered the Nova language perfectly and could read complex texts with disconcerting ease. This precocity had earned him praise as a genius from an early age.
At school, he excelled in everything from mathematics to history to the basic martial arts taught to children. Even in sports, his agility and speed made him a role model. Teachers considered him a rising star, and his classmates wavered between admiration and envy. But despite the praise, Michael had never stopped feeling an emptiness. He knew that all this was just a prelude. The real test, the one that would determine his place in this world, was fast approaching: the awakening test.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the main door opening, accompanied by familiar voices. His parents had come home from work. Michael rose from his bed, ran a hand through his messy hair, and walked out of his room to greet them.
His father, Robert, a sturdy man with broad shoulders but a face marked by years of toil, set down his work bag with a heavy sigh. His mother, Lyris, more frail but just as tired, came in behind him with a small box of leftover food she had scavenged from work. They looked worn out from a hard day, as always.
"You guys came home early today," Michael pointed out as he approached.
His father shrugged. "Not really. The boss just let us go early because he has a meeting tomorrow. How was your day?"
"Same as usual. I studied, I checked on Miria and William. Nothing new," Michael replied with a slight smile.
His mother placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You work too much, Michael. You should rest a little more."
Michael shook his head. "I don't have time to rest, Mom. The Awakening Test is in a few months, and I need to be ready."
His father nodded, clearly proud but also concerned. "You're right to work hard. But don't forget to live, son. This world is cruel, but don't let ambition consume you."
Michael nodded softly, though deep down he knew he couldn't slow down. After a brief chat about the day's news, he set about preparing dinner. The meal was simple but comforting: a vegetable stew and some stale bread they had scavenged. After eating in silence, Michael helped clear the table, then retired to his room to bed.
The next morning, he rose early, as usual. After a quick wash and a frugal breakfast, he put on his school uniform and set off for school. The city of Veraelis was slowly waking up under the first rays of the sun. The cobblestone streets, lined with modest but functional buildings, came alive with the cries of merchants and the laughter of children. Veraelis was a typical working-class capital of the Solinthar Empire. Billboards flashed here and there, and public transportation was running at full capacity. However, signs of poverty were omnipresent, especially in neighborhoods like the one Michael lived in.
He arrived at the school, a large building that did not really reflect the city itself, and entered his classroom. The students were already chatting loudly, but they calmed down slightly when they saw Michael. He was respected, but also feared by some because of his determination and impeccable results.
He sat next to his best friend, Ethan, a blond boy with piercing eyes. Ethan was also considered a genius, and the two boys had been friends since childhood. Together, they were a formidable team, always competitive but also incredibly close.
Michael glanced at Ethan and raised an eyebrow. "Academic glory, huh? Aren't you the one complaining about having to rewrite your history essay last night?"
Ethan rolled his eyes, but an amused smile played on his lips. "Hey, no one said perfection was easy. You, on the other hand, are going to end up making the teachers jealous with your damn grades. What was your last math score? 98%?"
Michael shook his head, a smirk on his face. "99%, but who's counting anyway?"
Ethan burst out laughing, drawing the attention of a few students around them. "Of course you do. You're not the type to let a little point slip through your fingers." »
Michael shrugged, his face falsely modest. "Let's just say I prefer not to let opportunities go unnoticed."
Ethan rested his elbow on the table and leaned his head on his hand, his gaze mocking. "Opportunities or pathological perfectionism? Seriously, Mikey, you need to lighten up a bit. Life isn't just a series of tests to pass."
Michael crossed his arms and stared at him, his serious gaze softened by a glint of camaraderie. "You know why I work so hard, Ethan. It's not just for me. It's for them."
Ethan looked down for a moment, the smile briefly leaving his face. He knew that "them" was referring to Miria and William. He knew Michael's story, his constant struggle to make life better for his siblings. "I know," he said softly. "But, you know… you have the right to live a little for yourself, too." »
Michael didn't answer right away. He stared out the classroom window, watching the clouds slowly move across the sky. "Maybe someday," he finally said. "But not now. Not yet."
Ethan sighed and straightened up, his tone returning to his usual light-hearted tone. "Fine, fine. But when that day comes, I want to be here to remind you what a grumpy old man you can be sometimes."
Michael laughed despite himself. "Grumpy old man, huh? Remind me who's always late to class and gets told off in front of everyone?"
Ethan held up his hands in surrender. "Bingo. But you see, that's what life is all about. A little chaos, a little fun." He paused, staring at Michael with a more serious look. "Just… promise me that no matter what happens with this awakening test or whatever, you'll find a way to not get lost in it all."
Michael nodded, appreciating his friend's rare sincerity. "Promise, Ethan. But for now, let's just focus on surviving this day."
Ethan regained his mischievous smile. "Deal. And if I beat you on the next science test, you buy me lunch."
Michael burst out laughing. "Prepare to be hungry, then."
The two friends continued to chat, joking and exchanging ideas about their homework and projects. Despite their differences, their strong friendship formed a stable pillar in Michael's hectic life, a reminder that even in the struggle, he was not alone.
Classes began, alternating between complex mathematics, history of empires, and physical training. Michael interacted with his teachers, who always encouraged him to go further, and with his classmates, some admiring, others more distant. At lunchtime, he met up with Ethan and they chatted about everything and nothing.
After class, Michael walked briskly to his workplace: a small restaurant tucked away on a busy street in downtown Veraelis. The town, though modest, had a special charm. The red brick and gray stone buildings, adorned with wrought iron balconies, were a mixture of history and modernity. The streets were always bustling at this hour, filled with street vendors, families out shopping, and busy workers heading home. In the distance, the bells of an imposing clock could be heard marking the hours.
Michael arrived at the restaurant, a wooden sign reading "At the House" swinging gently above the door. The place, though humanly modest, had a warm atmosphere. As soon as he stepped through the door, the enticing smell of fresh bread and spicy stew filled him. The walls were decorated with old posters and black-and-white photos of Veraelis, mementos of a bygone era. Hanging lamps cast a soft, golden light that gave the room a welcoming ambiance.
Behind the counter was Aldar, the restaurant's owner. He was a plump man, with a jovial face that was always flushed with the exertion or the heat of the kitchen. He wore his usual apron, stained with flour and gravy, but he wore his usual broad smile.
"Ah, Michael! Always on time, my boy," Aldar exclaimed when he caught sight of him. He patted his rounded belly and laughed. "If only all my employees were like you! You're my pillar, you know."
Michael smiled politely as he pulled on his apron. "Thank you, Mr. Aldar. I'm just doing my best."
"Your best is already way above the rest," Aldar replied, handing him a tray. "Tonight's packed. The workers from the local factories are coming to celebrate the end of the week. Get ready to run."
Michael nodded, ready to face the evening. As soon as he stepped into the room, he was struck by the bustle: laughter broke out here and there, animated conversations filled the air, and the clinking of glasses intermingled with the clatter of cutlery on plates. He immediately set to work, moving fluidly between the tables, taking orders, bringing out steaming dishes, and flashing polite smiles.
Michael loved to observe the customers, a habit he had picked up on his first day here. Each table told a story. At a table by the window, a group of workers shared a large bottle of cheap wine, their faces lined with fatigue but lit up with genuine smiles. They talked loudly about the day, the malfunctioning machines and the challenges of their jobs, but also about their families and their hopes for a better future.
But what fascinated Michael most was the social diversity he saw here. Although he knew that the wealthier classes of Veraelis rarely frequented a restaurant like this, occasionally a passing noble would stop by, drawn by the rustic ambiance. Their presence was always marked by elegant clothing, haughty attitudes, and specific orders that would infuriate Aldar.
The evening passed quickly for Michael, punctuated by the back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room. Although the work was backbreaking, he found a certain satisfaction in completing his task efficiently. Every smile from a satisfied customer, every sincere thank you, was a small victory.
Aldar would sometimes look at him with a glint of approval in his eyes. "Michael, my boy," he said at one point during a lull. "If one day you decide to leave your books and your school, you will always be welcome here. You would make an excellent manager."
Michael smiled slightly, grateful for the offer, but he shook his head gently. "Thank you, Mr. Aldar. But I have other plans."
Aldar nodded, understanding without insisting. "I know, I know. You have great ambitions. But don't forget to enjoy life a little along the way, okay?"
Michael nodded before leaving for one last round. It was late when he left the restaurant. The streets of Veraelis, so lively during the day, were now quiet, lit by golden streetlights. Michael walked in silence, his thoughts wandering between the day that had passed and the challenges that lay ahead. The cool night wind caressed his face, and he savored the quiet moment.
When he finally arrived home, the apartment was plunged into darkness. His parents and siblings were already asleep. Michael slipped silently into his room, taking off his uniform before collapsing on his bed. Exhausted, he closed his eyes, but his mind soon began to race. He thought back to his dreams, his responsibilities, and that awakening test that was fast approaching.
"One day at a time," he muttered to himself before falling into a fitful sleep.
Then time passed and 4 months later the day for the awakening test arrived.