The ceiling wasn't interesting. Just a flat stretch of dull grey panels, broken only by humming light fixtures that cast a sterile glow. But the boy stared at it anyway, unmoving on the top bunk, arms folded behind his head like he was searching for answers in a blank sky.
His skin still tingled.
Whatever had happened during the assessment—the blackout, the surge, the screaming hadn't left him. It clung like static in his bones. Quiet. Invisible. But there. A subtle pressure beneath his skin. A distant drumbeat only he could hear.
Something inside him had shifted. Not shattered—yet.
Just cracked wide enough to let the world feel... off. The silence was heavier.
The air thicker. His senses... wrong.
The dorm door creaked open.
A tall guy walked in, slinging a battered duffel over one shoulder. Chestnut hair in a wild mess. Uniform rumpled. Confidence worn loose, like a jacket a size too big. He scanned the room once, eyes sharp and locked onto the top bunk.
"You're the E-Rank who fried the lights, right?" he asked, a smirk already in place like it belonged there.
The boy blinked. "…I guess."
"Didn't think E's could blow the grid." The guy dropped his bag onto the bottom bunk with a thud. "Name's Kovan. B-Rank."
He extended a hand.
The boy stared a second too long before slowly reaching out. A brief shake. Then nothing.
"…Nice to meet you," he murmured.
Kovan tilted his head. "And you are?"
A pause.
"…I don't really remember," the boy said, uncertain. "My name. It's… fuzzy."
Kovan let out a half-snort. "Amnesia? Seriously? What is this, a drama?" He grinned, not mocking just amused, like weird was part of the routine.
A sharp beep echoed down the hall.
"That's us," Kovan said, already moving.
"Recruitment Hall. Let's go. Might be our lucky day."
The boy sat up slowly. Limbs heavy. Another offbeat thump pulsed through his chest. He pressed a hand over his heart not from pain.
Just discomfort. It still didn't feel like his.
Still foreign. Still... not him.
The Guild Recruitment Hall looked like a temple built by someone obsessed with machines and mana equally.
Polished metal walls. Floors etched with glowing runes. Arcane circuitry pulsed beneath the surface, casting soft blue light that made shadows stretch unnaturally long.
A low hum pressed against the skin not sound exactly. More like pressure. Living mana, restless and watching.
Dozens of recruits stood in line. Some confident.
Some terrified. All silent.
The boy stood behind Kovan, eyes flicking between them. Everyone looked older. Sharper. Certain of their place.
He didn't even know his name.
"Just place your hand on the panel," Kovan said casually. "It'll scan your mana, sync your record, spit out the results. Try not to fry it again."
The boy stepped forward.
Warm light bloomed beneath his palm.
SYSTEM: Mana Signature Detected
Scanning...
Syncing...
Error...
Retrying...
Sync Complete. Displaying Results:
The screen above flickered once, glitched, then steadied.
Name: Bren Fernsby
Age: 18
Rank: E
He stared.
The name didn't feel wrong. But it didn't feel right either. Like wearing someone else's coat—it fit, but the sleeves were stiff and the scent wasn't his.
Bren.
He mouthed it to himself. Trying to believe it.
Hoping it would feel like more than a label.
Next to him, Kovan slapped his hand onto a second panel.
Name: Kovan Grimm
Age: 21
Rank: B
"Still B," he muttered. "Figures. That last
raid barely scratched the ceiling. Thought it'd bump me to A."
Bren offered a faint smile. Even he knew rankings didn't change on wishful thinking.
Then the air shifted.
Subtle. Sharp. Like tension slicing through silk. A cold ripple spread across the hall.
Every head turned.
A man entered.
Tall. Composed. Black coat trimmed in silver. Each step silent, but heavier than sound. His presence swallowed the space like a black hole.
Even before someone whispered the name, Bren knew.
Silas Vale.
Guildmaster of Forest Vale, an elite faction in the Western Circuit. Whispers followed him like shadows: strategist, ghost, executioner. A man known for decisions like blades, swift and final.
No one expected him to show up for a standard recruit scan.
But here he was.
He moved like a sword sheathed in silence, aides trailing behind with tablets and murmured data. Silas barely spoke. Just nodded. Judged. Calculated.
He stopped.
In front of Kovan.
A nod.
Then his gaze slid sideways.
To Bren.
He looked at the scan terminal. Then at the boy. No change in expression. No surprise. No frown.
Just... awareness.
Bren felt it instantly.
His chest burned. That wrongness flared deep under his ribs, where the not-heart pounded like a warning drum.
The air around him pulsed.
Mana stirred.
He wasn't sure if it was reacting to Silas...
…or to being seen.
Silas didn't blink. But something passed through his gaze. A flicker no one else caught.
Recognition?
Doubt?
Fear?
Gone before Bren could understand it.
The whispers started immediately.
"Did he just stop at an E?"
"Why's Silas looking at him?"
"Was that a glitch?"
Then the verdict dropped.
"These two. Private evaluations," Silas said, like it was already decided.
One of his aides blinked. "Uh… the E-Rank?
Sir, he'll tank our guild average. We'll drop to third."
Silas looked at him like he'd spoken in tongues.
Then said nothing.
No argument followed.
The private room was quieter. Dim. The mana lights pulsed slower, casting faint shadows that bled across the floor.
Kovan paced. "Guess I'm first. Don't get scouted while I'm gone, mystery man."
He disappeared behind the door.
Bren waited.
Legs bouncing. Hands twitching. The air too thin.
The silence too loud.
The door opened again.
"Bren Fernsby," an aide called.
He stepped inside.
Silas stood at the far end, hands behind his back.
Eyes like twin razors.
"You remember nothing?" he asked.
Bren shook his head. "Bits. Flashes. Echoes of people I don't know. It's all... noise."
Silas nodded once. "Your scan triggered a surge in our artifact core. The mana it reacted to wasn't possible. Not for an E."
Bren opened his mouth, but no words came.
"I don't know what you are," Silas said, stepping closer, "but I know what you're not."
He turned away.
"You're coming with us."
An aide hesitated. "Sir, we should—"
"It's my decision," Silas cut in. "He's Forest Vale now."
Back in the hall, Kovan stretched both arms overhead
like he'd just won something.
"Ha! Nailed it. Guess we're guildmates now, huh?"
Bren offered a half-smile. It was all he had.
But behind it, his thoughts twisted.
Why had Silas looked at him like that?
Why had the system stuttered when reading his mana?
And why, when he heard the name Bren Fernsby,
did it feel less like an identity…
…and more like the beginning of a question?
[SYSTEM UPDATE:]
New Designation Confirmed: [Guild Member – Forest Vale]
Syncing unique mana signature…
Anomaly Detected.
Error: Classification mismatch.
Initializing Override Protocol…
[New Title Unlocked: ???]
Status: Pending Awakening