It's the Modern Calender year 2234, humanity lives in what now called the New Era of Talent.
The change began two centuries earlier when spatial rifts tore open across Earth in 2030. Demonic beasts poured through these tears in reality, toppling humans from their position as apex predators. Overnight, civilization teetered on the brink of extinction.
Humanity's initial response was predictable—they unleashed their arsenal of modern weapons. But a mysterious energy, later identified as spirit Qi, permeated the atmosphere and disrupted advanced technology. Nuclear warheads became no more threatening than chunks of metal. The species that had conquered the planet through innovation found themselves thrust back into an age of swords and spears, woefully outmatched by their supernatural predators.
Their salvation came from an unlikely source: the very force threatening to destroy them. Scientists discovered that humans could harness spirit Qi, giving rise to Martial Warriors—individuals who trained their bodies to absorb this energy and transcend normal human limitations.
More remarkably, latent abilities began manifesting in certain individuals. These "talents" varied widely, with cultivation talent being the most common, determining one's potential for growth and power. Others developed more specialized gifts—mastery over blades, command of flames, manipulation of ice, and countless other supernatural affinities.
Through these evolutionary adaptations, humanity clawed its way back from the edge of annihilation. Still, their victory remained incomplete. Most of Earth remained under the dominion of high-level demonic beasts, with humans confined to scattered survival bases—islands of civilization in a world reclaimed by monsters.
In this era, cultivation talent reigned supreme. The hierarchy was well-established: weak talent at the bottom, followed by low-tier, basic, medium, and high talent at the pinnacle. Whispers circulated of even greater classifications beyond high talent, though most dismissed these as mere fantasies of the desperate.
Upon reaching fifteen years of age, individuals could purchase a Talent Stone to evaluate their cultivation potential. These common stones revealed only cultivation aptitude; specialized Talent Stones were required to identify other gifts, making them rare and coveted possessions.
In a dilapidated house at the forgotten edge of Sector 7 within the East Haven Survival Base—a thin youth named Wei Tian sat cross-legged on a threadbare mat. The single room that constituted his entire living space was immaculate despite its obvious state of disrepair: water stains mapped constellations across the ceiling, hairline cracks spider-webbed through the walls, and the perpetual scent of mildew hung in the air no matter how thoroughly he cleaned.
Today marked his fifteenth year of life, a milestone that carried monumental significance in this new world. For five long years since losing his parents to the savage beast tide that had nearly overwhelmed East Haven's southern barrier, Wei Tian had lived alone in this decaying shelter. He had performed countless menial tasks—hauling water for wealthier households, clearing refuse from drainage systems too narrow for adults to navigate, standing guard during the night hours for shops that couldn't afford proper security measures—all to accumulate the necessary credits for this moment.
Centered before him on the mat lay a small crystalline object no larger than his palm: a Talent Stone. Its surface glittered with internal facets that caught the dim light filtering through his patched window covering. This ordinary classification stone had cost him every credit he'd managed to save, representing countless skipped meals and comforts forgone. Within its crystalline structure lay the truth of his potential—the unalterable reality that would define the boundaries of his existence in this Talent Era.
Wei Tian's calloused fingers trembled slightly as they hovered over the stone. He had rehearsed this moment countless times in his imagination, visualizing the stone illuminating with at least a low-tier talent classification—perhaps even medium-tier if fate proved exceptionally kind. Such a result would secure him admission to a respectable cultivation academy, providing the foundation for a life beyond the crushing poverty of Sector 7.
"Today," he whispered to himself, his voice barely audible in the empty room, "everything changes."
With reverent care, Wei Tian pressed his index finger against the stone's central facet. A small drop of blood welled from his fingertip where a nearly invisible needle had pricked his skin. The crimson droplet was instantly absorbed into the crystalline matrix, triggering the ancient assessment protocols embedded within.
For three breathless seconds, nothing happened. Then, gradually, a pale light began to emanate from within the stone's depths. Wei Tian leaned forward, eyes wide with desperate hope, watching as the illumination intensified... only to settle into the faintest possible glow, barely visible even in his darkened room.
The classification was unmistakable. Among the established cultivation talent tiers—weak, low, basic, medium, and high—the stone had revealed the absolute minimum potential. The dimmest classification possible.
Wei Tian stared at the weakly glowing stone, his expression frozen between disbelief and devastation. All his hopes, all his carefully nurtured dreams of transcending his circumstances through cultivation, collapsed into that pitiful light. The stone had delivered its verdict with merciless finality: he possessed only weak talent, the lowest possible classification, a declaration that his potential had clear, immutable limitations.
"Weak talent," he spat, hurling the stone against the wall. "The absolute bottom. There's no path to becoming a true Martial Warrior from here."
Despair settled over him like a physical weight. The cultivation hierarchy was unforgiving: Martial Disciples represented the preliminary stage, barely worth acknowledging. True power began with the Martial Warrior rank, requiring practitioners to demonstrate a thousand jin of strength—a threshold that demanded at minimum a low-tier talent.
Even those with low-tier talent might only achieve early-stage Martial Warrior status in their lifetime, but this alone elevated them above common society. They became figures of respect and authority, their capabilities marking them as essential to humanity's survival.
Those cursed with weak talent, however, remained trapped in perpetual mediocrity. No matter how diligently they trained or how much spirit Qi they absorbed, they would never progress beyond Martial Disciple—forever caught in the shadow of true warriors.
"If only talent could be changed," Wei Tian whispered, trying to convince himself that acceptance might soften his disappointment. But the hollow feeling in his chest suggested otherwise.
But in the next breath, everything changed.
Wei Tian's pupils contracted to pinpoints as shock jolted through his system. Cold sweat erupted across his skin, running in rivulets down his temples and spine.
"T-this sensation... a talent awakening?"
Throughout recorded history, some individuals manifested secondary talents beyond their sixteenth year—a natural evolution that their matured bodies could typically withstand. Others, however, experienced premature awakenings. These unfortunate souls often perished as their undeveloped physiology buckled under the transformation.
Wei Tian recognized with mounting horror that he had become one of these cases. Excruciating pain radiated through every cell, as though his very molecular structure was being rewritten. His consciousness began to slip away, darkness encroaching at the edges of his vision.
"No," he growled through clenched teeth. "I will survive this. I must survive to hunt down the beasts that slaughtered my parents."
This single thought became his anchor as memories of the beast tide crashed through his mind—the screams, the blood, the helplessness. He clung to his hatred, using it as a tether to reality even as consciousness finally abandoned him.
A full day passed before Wei Tian's eyes snapped open. His chest heaved with desperate, ragged breaths.
"Haa... huff... I'm... I'm alive," he gasped, disbelief coloring his voice.
But before he could fully process his survival, a translucent interface materialized directly on his retina—information seemingly projected from within his own body:
[Human: Wei Tian
Cultivation Talent: Weak
Unique Talent: Copy Talent]
"What... what is this?"
Wei Tian's eyes narrowed as he attempted to process this unexpected development.
Wei Tian stared at the translucent interface hovering in his vision, blinking repeatedly in an attempt to dispel what must surely be a hallucination.