— "You again?"
The director's annoyed voice echoes through the office, betraying deep fatigue. He lifts his eyes from his holographic screen to meet the gaze of a young man with messy black hair and eyes as dark as the night.
— "Hehe, Director, how are you today?" Ryan says with a nonchalant smile.
Sitting behind his massive synthetic wood desk, the director sighs loudly. He sets down his tablet, intertwines his fingers under his chin, and gazes intently at the young man.
— "Ryan, how many times do I have to repeat it?" he growls. "You can't participate in the International Tournament of Young Awakened without being affiliated with an academy. And with your F rank, it's simply impossible. Go away and stop wasting your time... and mine."
Ryan doesn't move. He stands there, arms crossed, a spark of defiance in his eyes.
— "Sir, I beg you... You know I've tried everything. I've knocked on every door, sent dozens of applications, even begged some academies to accept me. But do you know what they told me? That I wasn't even worth being tested."
The director averts his gaze. It's not that he doesn't understand the boy's distress, but rules are rules.
— "Ryan, there's a reason no academy has accepted you."
— "Because I'm rank F?" Ryan retorts bitterly. "Because my power is so pathetic that they'd rather not even try to train me?"
— "Exactly."
Ryan clenches his fists. He knew it was the truth, but hearing it so bluntly tightens his chest.
— "But... that's not fair."
— "Life isn't fair, kid."
Ryan takes a deep breath, trying to calm the boiling rage inside him.
— "Sir, do you know what being a Protector means to me?" he says in a more controlled voice. "It's my dream. My only hope of having a place in this world. If I can't participate in this tournament, then I'm doomed to stay a failure my entire life."
The director closes his eyes for a moment. He's seen hundreds of young Awakened come and go from his office, full of ambition and talent. But this kid... he's different. He doesn't have the talent, but he has the will.
— "Do you really believe that will alone is enough?" he asks, intrigued.
Ryan lifts his chin.
— "No. But it's all I have. And if I have to fight opponents stronger than me to prove my worth, then I'll do it."
A heavy silence settled in.
The director sighed and slowly stood up, walking around his desk to face Ryan. He studied him for a moment, trying to see if there was even a spark of potential in him.
— "If I let you participate, you'll be alone. No team, no support, no resources. All the others will have the advantage over you."
— "I know."
— "You might get crushed in the very first fight."
— "Then I'll get back up."
— "And if you lose again?"
Ryan smiled. "Then I'll keep getting back up until I win."
The director remained silent. He could see the determination burning in the young man's eyes, a flame that neither fear nor doubt seemed capable of extinguishing.
Finally, he let out a long sigh and sat back down.
— "Alright, Ryan," he said, tapping on his screen. "I'll sign you up. But don't come crying to me if you regret it later."
Ryan's eyes widened, stunned. "You... you accept?"
— "Against my better judgment, yes," the director grumbled. "You want a chance? I'll give it to you. But if you fail, you'll never have the right to ask me for anything again. Understood?"
Ryan nodded, his heart racing.
— "Understood, Sir! Thank you!"
The director shook his head. "You're a stubborn kid, Ryan. Let's see if that will get you somewhere."
Ryan clenched his fists. This was his only chance, and he had seized it.
The tournament was about to begin.
And he, the F rank rejected by all, would prove that he deserved his place among the Awakened.
Ryan left the director's building in silence. His heart was still pounding from the intense conversation he had just had. He had finally gotten what he wanted: a chance to participate in the tournament. Yet, as he walked down the street, he felt no euphoria.
He looked up at the sky, then glanced at the imposing skyscrapers dominating the horizon. Modern buildings, equipped with the latest technology, inhabited by people who had probably never known hunger or cold. People who, from birth, had been blessed by fate.
He lowered his eyes and sighed.
— "Damn, I live in a forest while we're in a modern world..."
He started heading home, leaving the bustling city streets to plunge into the woods. The contrast was striking. Where the city gleamed with lights and advanced technology, the forest was dark, silent, and wild. His "home" was just a simple wooden cabin, built with his own hands.
He stopped in front of the entrance and stared at his dilapidated shelter.
— "If I were at least a C rank Awakened... Would my life be different?" he thought, clenching his fists. "Would I have had a real house? A family? A place in this world?"
He went inside and dropped his bag onto a rickety table before collapsing onto his bed. He stared at the cracked wooden ceiling, his thoughts flowing uncontrollably.
— "Why is my life so hard?"
— "Am I not working hard enough?"
— "Why do I have to keep living when everything seems against me?"
— "Why do I want so badly to become a Protector?"
He straightened up and closed his eyes, trying to organize his thoughts. But the more he thought, the more the pain in his chest grew.
— "Ah... I see."
A bitter smile stretched across his lips.
— "Fate, God, the gods... Even life itself has no mercy on me."
He ran a hand through his messy black hair and let out a joyless laugh.
— "Losing my parents at 4... My sister at 12... Starting to work at 5... Getting dumped by my girlfriend... Being poor... And on top of that, being an F rank Awakened..."
His laugh turned into an uncontrollable burst.
— "Hahaha! Am I a character from a novel? I feel like someone is writing a tragic story and chose me as the protagonist."
He sat up and stared at his own reflection in a cracked mirror hanging on the wall. His face was tired, his eyes were dark, and his body was thin from deprivation.
— "Ah... I should be careful with my mental state. If this keeps up, I'll really end up losing my mind."
He rubbed his face and sighed.
— "It's strange... I feel like smoking, even though I've never touched a cigarette in my life. Am I sinking into depression?"
Silence answered him.
— "Tch... Whatever."
He stood up abruptly and grabbed a small pouch sitting on a chair.
— "I'll go gather mana stones in the forest. It'll help me calm down."
He stepped outside the cabin and took a deep breath. The fresh night air made him shiver.
— "Damn, I just ruined my good mood because of this damn forest."
He knew it wasn't the forest that had ruined his joy. It was his own life.
But he didn't have time to wallow. He had a tournament to prepare for.
And he was ready to do anything to prove that he was worth something.
Ryan ventured deeper into the forest, his shoulder bag hitting his hip with each step. Night had fallen, and the only light piercing the darkness was the moon, obscured by the thick leaves of the ancient trees.
The air was damp, thick with the scent of decaying leaves and wet wood. Every step he took echoed slightly, breaking the eerie silence around him. He knew this place like the back of his hand. He had grown up here, survived here, learned to fend for himself. But even with that familiarity, he couldn't ignore the survival instinct screaming at him to stay alert.
— "I hate coming here at night," he muttered, picking up a stone from the ground.
He examined it under the faint light and weighed it in his hand. A faint bluish glow pulsed inside the irregular crystal. A low-quality mana stone, probably barely usable for physical enhancement.
— "Tch... Another useless piece of crap."
He put it in his bag anyway. He didn't have the luxury of being picky.
Mana stones were one of the most valuable resources for the Awakened. They allowed them to improve their energy control, speed up their training, and fuel their techniques. But high-quality ones were nearly impossible to find in this miserable forest. Academies and influential groups had their hands on the best harvest zones, leaving the scraps for people like him.
He sighed and continued his search. Every stone found was a small hope, but also a cruel reminder of his weakness.
An hour passed.
His bag was half full, containing only thirteen stones, all of mediocre quality.
— "Shit... This will never be enough."
He glanced around, hesitating. He could go a little further, risk venturing into deeper parts of the forest where nocturnal creatures roamed. But he wasn't stupid. He didn't have the equipment or strength to defend himself against a higher-ranked predator.
He gritted his teeth and sighed.
— "It's still better than nothing."
Turning around, he started the journey back, listening to the rustling of leaves and the crackling of branches beneath his feet.
The further he walked, the heavier the fatigue weighed on his shoulders. His thoughts spun in circles in his mind.
— "Thirteen stones... Even if I absorb them all, it won't change anything."
He clenched his fist.
— "No. It'll change something. Even if it's small, it's better than nothing. I have to move forward, even if it's just by one step."
The trip seemed longer than usual. As if the forest itself wanted to hold him back, swallow him in its shadow.
When he finally spotted his cabin through the trees, a sigh of relief escaped his lips.
— "Finally."
He pushed the door open and stepped inside. The interior was dark and cold, as usual. A simple table, a rickety chair, a dilapidated bed... and nothing else. This was his life.
He placed his bag on the table, stretched, and was about to light an oil lamp when...
— "Long time no see, Ryan."
The sound of a voice echoed through the room.
His body froze instantly.
His heart skipped a beat.
The shadow in the corner of the room shifted slightly, revealing a figure sitting, nearly invisible in the darkness.
Ryan gritted his teeth.
He wasn't alone.