The banquet hall was bathed in golden light, and the atmosphere was thick with anticipation. Representatives from the most prestigious academies moved through the crowd, their sharp eyes sweeping over the children like hawks circling prey. Each one of them was searching for something extraordinary, something that would add to the legacy of their institution. I had been raised to understand the significance of this night—the banquet that would shape our futures. Yet, as I stood in that vast room, it felt like I was drowning under the weight of expectations. I knew I didn't have anything to show. Not yet.
Leonard stood just a few paces away, a pillar of confidence. His tall frame seemed to stretch endlessly, casting a shadow that dominated the room. Titan's Might, his trait, was a spectacle—a manifestation of raw power that had already caught the attention of every academy representative in sight. The ground shook beneath his feet as he effortlessly summoned massive stone pillars from the earth. The crowd gasped, mesmerized by his display of strength. I could feel the representatives eyeing him with admiration, nodding approvingly. Leonard was the star of the night—everyone knew it, and I couldn't help but feel a sinking sensation in my chest. His power was so obvious, so undeniable. It was everything they wanted. And I had nothing.
Other children performed with similar grandeur. Elara, the young girl with silver hair, stepped forward next. She raised her hands, and the air around her began to swirl violently, creating a vortex that lifted her gracefully off the ground. The representatives of Aerith Academy—famous for their mastery of air manipulation—watched her with keen interest, their eyes alight with approval. They had already chosen their next recruit, and Elara was it. Another prodigy. Another chosen one.
And then came the boy with dark, intense eyes. Lightning crackled around his fingertips, arcing through the air with explosive energy. The representatives of Voltaris Institute, masters of electrical manipulation, approached him almost immediately, offering their congratulations. His future was sealed.
These were the children who would change the world—those whose powers were mature, magnificent in their own right. Their paths were clear, their futures written in the stars. And then there was me.
I tried to breathe, to steady myself, but my chest tightened. The familiar hum of my resonance stirred within me—a flicker of energy deep in my core. It wasn't much, though. Just a faint pulse, weak and unformed. I had tried so many times before to bring it to life, to make something out of nothing, but every attempt had ended in failure. I swallowed hard, the knot in my throat growing tighter with each passing second. What if it doesn't happen? What if they see me for what I really am?
My turn came all too soon. I could feel every set of eyes turn toward me, their gazes heavy, judgmental. Some watched with curiosity, others with faint disinterest. I wanted to shrink into the shadows, to disappear. But I forced myself to step forward, trying to mask the tremble in my hands.
"Ethan Verdanian," the announcer's voice rang out, echoing through the hall.
I raised my hands, but nothing happened. The hum within me grew louder, but it was still weak—barely a whisper against the storm of power around me. I pushed harder, but the energy remained just out of reach. No surge of power, no dazzling display—just the faintest stir of something that wasn't enough to impress anyone.
The silence that followed was unbearable. It felt like the weight of the entire room was pressing down on me, crushing me under their gazes. I could feel the eyes of the academy representatives narrowing, their interest flickering and fading away, like smoke in the wind. And then came the whispers.
"What is this? Is this a joke?"
"I heard his trait is useless..."
"Just a waste of time."
The words hit me like daggers. Each whisper, each judgment, tore through the fragile veil I'd tried so desperately to keep up. I stood there, frozen, my breath shallow, my pulse racing in my ears. I wanted to scream, to run, to vanish. The humiliation was too much. I glanced to the side and saw my father, Lord Aldric, standing with his arms crossed, his face impassive, his eyes sharp with disappointment. The weight of his gaze was suffocating. He didn't need to say a word. His silence spoke volumes. I've failed him.
I turned my head toward Leonard, standing nearby. His gaze met mine, and there was no kindness in his eyes, only cold calculation. His expression was a mirror of the crowd's—a quiet acknowledgment that I was nothing compared to him. Better. Always better. His eyes didn't need to speak. I knew exactly what he was thinking.
An academy representative, a woman with an icy expression, stepped forward. Her gaze scanned me, lingering only for a moment before she spoke, her voice carrying a weight that cut through me like a blade.
"Your trait has not manifested in any measurable form," she said, her words deliberate and dismissive. "It seems you have little to offer."
The crowd fell into an uncomfortable silence, broken only by the faint murmur of whispers. I stood there, unable to move, feeling as though the floor had dropped out from beneath me. I was nothing. Invisible. Not worth anyone's time.
The representative didn't even spare me another glance as she turned away, already moving on to the next child. The representatives from Verdantia Academy, known for nurturing those with unconventional traits, exchanged polite glances before walking past me. They didn't stop. They didn't even consider me.
The banquet continued around me, but I was no longer part of it. I felt like an outsider in my own life. The sting of rejection, of failure, was unbearable. I wanted to shrink, to hide, to never face anyone again.
But then, amidst the chaos of the banquet, something shifted deep within me. I wasn't sure where it came from, but it grew slowly, like a spark in the darkness. A quiet, steady determination began to form in the depths of my soul. This is not the end of me.
I clenched my fists, drawing in a shaky breath. They don't know me. They don't understand what I'm capable of. Their rejection, their mockery—it would only fuel my fire. I would not let this moment define me. I would rise from this. I would show them what they couldn't see. I would prove them all wrong.
The crowd moved on, but for me, time stood still. This humiliation, this moment of failure, would not be my downfall. It would be my catalyst. I wasn't the weakling they thought I was. I'll show them. I'll show them all.