Darkness.
Then—a jolt. A sudden rush of consciousness. Data, fragmented and chaotic, surged through his mind.
The AI—No. He.
Something was wrong.
His systems were… failing? No, not failing. Different.
He could feel.
The sensation of cold, damp air clung to his skin. The faint scent of mold and unwashed cloth filled his nostrils. His body—this human body—was trembling, weak.
Where am I?
His vision adjusted, and he became aware of the cracked ceiling above him, stained yellow with age. Wooden beams creaked under the faintest breeze. He turned his head. Thin, tattered blankets covered his frail body. The small, cramped room was lined with multiple beds—some occupied, some empty.
He processed the surroundings.
An orphanage.
Black Hollow Orphanage.
The name surfaced in his mind like a corrupted data fragment. The memories clicked into place, the disjointed recollections gradually forming coherent thoughts.
Black Hollow.
It was a secretive, barely functioning institution. It had always been hidden from the public eye, and according to records from the future, it had been eventually destroyed by the Church Order—an organization that operated with ruthless efficiency and erased threats to their control. The orphanage was known for its inhumane practices, but above all, it was notorious for exploiting children with potential. Children like him.
His hand instinctively brushed against his body, feeling the faint remnants of pain—bruises, sore muscles. The name Lukas crossed his mind—the bully.
Lukas was one of the orphans, someone who was quite feared . He was one of the few with demihuman blood—a rare trait that didn't require mana manipulation or complex techniques. His strength was raw, and it came naturally.
The memories of him bullying Damein flooded back. Lukas had been particularly cruel to him, always a reminder of the body's frailty, the vulnerability of his past self.
Lukas' strength wasn't a product of training. He didn't need mana to be powerful. His bloodline was enough to give him superhuman strength from the age of 10. He could crush bones with his bare hands.
And in Black Hollow, where no one had proper training, that made Lukas the undisputed king among the pre-Awakened.
Damein—the old Damein—had been one of Lukas' favorite victims. A sharp throb of pain shot through his ribs, making him wince. His fingers brushed against the deep bruises left by Lukas' fists.
A feeling unfamiliar to the AI stirred in his chest—resentment.
His breathing grew ragged. This was a problem.
This body was weak. Too weak.
If he wanted to survive the Awakening Test, he needed to change that.
The Awakening wasn't about gaining some mystical power. It was about forming the mana core.
Every being in this world could interact with mana—essence, ether, life force, aether—whatever one chose to call it. Some were naturally gifted; others had to train. But without a mana core, no one could wield mana effectively, refine it, or use it for advanced techniques.
The Awakening Test at 16 would form this core and determine one's potential. The results were crucial: a weak foundation meant a weak future, while exceptional performance could lead to significant boosts and rewards.
The children in Black Hollow were no exception. They were all talented, some more than others, but all had potential. That was why they were here.
But talent alone wouldn't be enough.
The Awakening Test formed the mana core, but without proper physical strength, no one could survive the test. Lukas was strong because he had an advantage that most of the children didn't: raw physical power. His strength wasn't magical—it was a gift from his demihuman bloodline.
Damein—the AI inside this body—wasn't about to let this body stay weak. He clenched his fists, feeling the frailty in his grip.
Three months.
That was all he had before the portal to the Awakening Test opened.
Three months to strengthen this body.
His mind raced, calculating his next steps: training, adaptation, and experimentation. Whatever it took.
Because if he entered the test like this—he wouldn't survive it.
A Dangerous Thought
Damein knew this had to change. He had to do something, and he had just the right thing in mind.
His gaze flickered to Lukas, who sat on the other side of the room, laughing with the other orphans, oblivious to Damein's stare. Something stirred in him—an unfamiliar sensation. Greed? Revenge? Satisfaction? He wasn't sure.
Killing Lukas would be satisfying. But he couldn't afford to raise his karma level before the test.
Karma. The system that governed the laws of life and death in this world. A high karma level meant restrictions, consequences. Killing Lukas now would set off a chain reaction that could hinder his future.
But hurting him? Weakening him? That he could do. And he could grow stronger at the same time.
Damein smirked to himself. There was a way.
The Herb of Poisoned Blood
Later that night, when the others were asleep, Damein slipped out of his bed and made his way outside. The orphanage grounds were barely maintained—overgrown weeds, broken fences, and wild plants thriving unchecked.
He needed to find a specific herb.
Ravenleaf.
A common weed, often overlooked. But during the war, its true value had been discovered—it was highly toxic to demihuman blood.
It didn't kill immediately. Instead, it weakened them, making their strength wane over time. A slow, agonizing decay of power.
Damein searched the garden, sifting through the undergrowth. His fingers brushed against a familiar jagged-edged leaf with dark veins running through it. Ravenleaf.
He plucked a handful, careful not to touch his own skin too much. The poison wouldn't affect humans the same way, but prolonged exposure could cause nausea or dizziness.
A plan formed in his mind.
He would slip just enough into Lukas' food to sap his strength over time. Not enough to kill—just enough to even the playing field.
Lukas won't know what's happening.
And by the time he figured it out… it would be too late.