The tears wouldn't stop. Minutes, maybe even hours passed, but I had lost all sense of time. I was drowning in emotions that didn't belong to me—suffocating, overwhelming, yet strangely addictive.
Then, clarity hit me like a hammer.
These emotions… they weren't mine.
They were his.
The protagonist of the book. The abandoned boy, the wretched child, the one who swore to find a family. I wasn't feeling my own sorrow—I was living his.
A shiver ran down my spine. My Remnant had awakened, but it was unlike anything I had ever read about. Swords, fire, beasts—Remnants were supposed to be extensions of the self, drawn from one's nature.
But mine?
Mine was borrowed.
A parasite feeding on fiction, twisting the emotions of others into something real.
I looked down at my hands. Ink from the book still burned into my skin like fresh tattoos. The words shifted, alive, before sinking into my veins.
I inhaled sharply.
Then, the world around me changed.
The air rippled. Shadows curled at the edges of my vision, and suddenly, I wasn't in my room anymore. I stood in the rain, cold sinking into my bones. A hollow house loomed in the distance, waiting—empty. I reached out, but my hands passed through like mist.
An illusion. A memory, made real.
Then, as quickly as it appeared, it vanished. The weight in my chest lifted, leaving behind an eerie emptiness.
I had manifested my Remnant.
A power not born from my own soul, but from the pages of a book.
And I needed to understand it.
I barely slept that night, my mind tangled in thoughts—emotions that weren't mine. By the time the city stirred awake, I had made my decision.
I needed to test this power.
---
Novasurge was protected by a massive energy barrier, built to keep the Moltens out—and its people in. But there were ways past it. Ways only the desperate or the reckless would take.
I fell into the latter category.
Slipping out was easier than I expected. The patrol routes were predictable, and my lack of an official Remnant made me invisible to the Sentinels. Moving through the undercity, past the forgotten districts, I reached the border.
The force field shimmered in the morning light. I took a breath and stepped through.
The air outside was heavy, thick with the scent of ash and scorched earth. The wastelands stretched endlessly, a barren scar left behind by the Moltens' war.
I closed my eyes and reached inward.
The ink on my skin seared. A memory surged forward—not mine.
Fear.
A sharp, suffocating terror wrapped around my ribs, squeezing, tightening. My heartbeat pounded, erratic. My breath came fast, too fast.
N-no. This wasn't me. It was his fear. The protagonist's first trial—alone, lost, small in an endless world.
The ground twisted beneath me. Shadows stretched unnaturally, whispers curled in the air, unseen figures lurking just beyond my sight. My body tensed, a deep, primal dread sinking its claws into my spine.
I collapsed onto my knees.
Then, the words ripped from my throat.
"Apparition."
A shockwave burst outward. The earth cracked, jagged spikes lurching skyward. The illusion shattered, and with it, the terror ebbed. I gasped, shivering, sweat clinging to my skin.
I stared at the destruction before me.
I could manifest emotions. Not just feel them—make them real.
My hands clenched. For the first time, I had something. Even if it wasn't truly mine. But that wasn't enough.
I needed more.
---
Sneaking back into Novasurge was even easier than leaving. The patrols were built to keep intruders out, not returning residents in. By sunrise, I had already reached the Guild Registration Hall.
Guilds were the backbone of society. Independent from the Sentinel Order, they acted as factions for the awakened—mercenaries, researchers, even gangs.
Joining meant resources, training, and purpose.
It was the next step in my journey.
The hall was a towering structure of steel and glass, alive with movement. Recruits filled the lobby, showing off their Remnants—flames flickered in some hands, others floated inches off the ground.
I stepped forward and placed my hand on the registration panel.
"Name?" The attendant barely looked at me.
"Abaddon Alabaster."
"Remnant?"
I hesitated.
Should I tell them what it truly does? If I did, there might be consequences.
So instead, I answered:
"Shockwave Manipulation."
The words felt foreign. But fitting.
The attendant frowned but didn't question it. A moment later, a small device beeped, confirming my registration.
"You're in. Welcome to the Guild System. Your assigned guild will be listed in your terminal shortly."
I exhaled slowly and stepped away.
I had done it.
The first step toward my own story had begun.
And this time, it would be real.