The fluorescent lights of Northwood Academy hummed with a sickly, indifferent drone, casting a pallid glow on the scuffed linoleum floors. To Zephyr, it felt less like a school and more like a high-security holding facility for the unremarkable. Every morning, the same stale air, the same scent of disinfectant and adolescent anxiety, clung to him like a second skin. He was Zephyr, and in the rigid hierarchy of Northwood, he was an echo – a faint, almost imperceptible ripple in a pond dominated by crashing waves.
His name, Zephyr, meant a gentle, mild breeze. It was a cruel jest of fate, or perhaps a hopeful, misguided choice by parents who had envisioned something far grander for their only son. Instead, he was thin, almost reedy, with a perpetually slumped posture that made him seem even smaller than his sixteen years. His dark hair, perpetually in need of a trim, often fell into eyes that were a muted, uninspired brown, usually fixed on the ground or lost in the pages of a worn fantasy novel. He wasn't just physically unassuming; he was socially invisible, a ghost haunting the hallways, except to those who sought him out for sport.
Today, the sport was textbook tossing.
"Look at the little breeze, trying to hide in the shadow of a locker!" A booming voice, thick with condescension, reverberated off the metal. It belonged to Kael, a hulking mass of muscle and misplaced aggression, whose own System Awakening two years prior had granted him enhanced strength and an even larger ego. Kael's aura, a faint crimson shimmer visible only to other Awakened and those with a keen eye, pulsed with his barely contained amusement.
Zephyr flinched, pressing himself further against the cold, dented locker. His history textbook, The Age of Systems: A New Dawn, slipped from his grasp and landed with a pathetic thud. He didn't need to look up to know Kael was flanked by his usual sycophants, Jett and Rix, both lesser Awakened with minor abilities – Jett could make small objects vibrate, Rix could sense minute temperature changes – but enough to feel superior.
"Lost your book, Zephyr?" Kael's foot nudged the textbook, sending it skittering across the floor. "Or did it just get tired of being held by a weakling?"
A ripple of snickers went through the small crowd that had begun to gather. This was the daily ritual, the morning sacrifice. Zephyr was the designated punching bag, the living embodiment of everything the Awakened weren't. He was unmarked.
In this world, the concept of the "System" wasn't some abstract theory or futuristic fantasy. It was the bedrock of society, the defining characteristic of humanity's evolution. Roughly one in a thousand people, typically between the ages of twelve and eighteen, experienced an "Awakening." It wasn't a choice; it was a phenomenon. A sudden, often violent influx of energy, a cascade of data, and then, the System. It manifested as an ethereal interface, visible only to the Awakened individual, granting them unique abilities, statistical enhancements, and often, a path to power, prestige, or even infamy.
The System was categorized by "Classes" – Warrior, Mage, Rogue, Artisan, Healer, and countless more specialized subclasses. Each Class came with its own set of Skills, Stats (Strength, Agility, Intelligence, Vitality, Wisdom, Dexterity), and a progression tree that allowed the Awakened to grow stronger, faster, smarter, or more resilient. The government, the military, corporations, even the entertainment industry, were dominated by the Awakened. They were the pillars of the new world, the ones who could face the increasingly bizarre anomalies and threats that had begun to appear across the globe since the first Awakenings decades ago.
And then there were the Unmarked. The vast majority. The ones who lived ordinary lives, their bodies and minds untouched by the System's grace. They were the laborers, the administrators, the support staff. They were necessary, but ultimately, they were the background noise, the echoes. Zephyr was one of them. Or so everyone believed.
"Pick it up, Zephyr," Kael commanded, his voice a low growl. "Unless you want to learn about the 'Age of Fists' instead."
Zephyr's jaw tightened. He could feel the eyes on him, the whispers, the barely concealed pity from some, the outright disdain from others. He hated it. He hated the helplessness, the way his limbs felt like lead, his voice trapped in his throat. Every fiber of his being screamed to fight back, to stand tall, but his body, his unmarked body, refused to obey. He was a prisoner in his own skin.
Slowly, agonizingly, he bent down. His fingers brushed against the worn cover of the textbook, the image of a stylized, glowing rune on the front seeming to mock him. He could almost hear the collective sigh of disappointment from his audience. No drama today. Just the usual capitulation.
As his hand closed around the book, Kael's foot stomped down, pinning Zephyr's fingers beneath his heavy boot. A sharp, searing pain shot up Zephyr's arm. He gasped, a pathetic sound that only fueled Kael's amusement.
"Oops," Kael drawled, twisting his foot slightly. "Butterfingers, Zephyr? Maybe you need some Agility points. Oh, wait, you don't have any, do you?"
Jett and Rix snickered louder. Zephyr squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the pain, the humiliation. He could feel the blood pounding in his ears, a desperate drumbeat against the injustice. Why? Why was he so weak? Why couldn't he be like them? Just once, just one time, he wished for something, anything, to change.
In that moment of raw, unadulterated despair, something shifted. It wasn't a physical sensation, not at first. It was a flicker, a brief distortion at the edge of his vision, like heat haze rising from asphalt on a summer day. He blinked, but it was gone. He dismissed it as a trick of the light, or perhaps the pain-induced blurring of his vision.
Kael lifted his foot, and Zephyr snatched his book, scrambling backward, clutching his throbbing hand. He didn't dare meet Kael's gaze, instead focusing on the linoleum, willing himself to disappear.
"That's enough, Kael!" A sharp, authoritative voice cut through the lingering tension. It was Miss Thorne, their Systemic History teacher, a stern woman with a perpetually unimpressed expression and an Awakened Class of 'Archivist' – someone who could recall and analyze vast amounts of data with superhuman speed. Her aura was a cool, steady blue.
Kael grumbled, but he knew better than to cross Miss Thorne. She might not be a combatant, but her influence within the Academy was significant. "Just teaching him a lesson, Miss Thorne. Some people need a little push to pick up their pace."
"The only lesson you'll be teaching is detention, Kael, if you don't get to class," she retorted, her gaze unwavering. "And you two," she added, nodding at Jett and Rix, "scurry along."
With a final sneer directed at Zephyr, Kael and his cronies sauntered away, their laughter echoing down the hallway. The small crowd dispersed, leaving Zephyr alone, his hand aching, his heart heavy.
He finally looked at his hand. A faint red mark, already fading, was visible on his knuckles. He flexed his fingers, wincing. It wasn't broken, but it stung. He sighed, pushing himself off the locker. Another day, another reminder of his place.
The first bell for class rang, a shrill, insistent sound. Zephyr hurried towards his Systemic History class, his mind replaying the humiliation. He hated Northwood. He hated the System. He hated being an Unmarked.
He slipped into his usual seat at the back of the classroom, near the window, a strategic position that allowed him to gaze out at the sprawling campus, imagining a world beyond his mundane reality. Today, however, his gaze was drawn to the glowing, holographic display that Miss Thorne had activated at the front of the class. It showed a complex diagram of interconnected nodes and branching pathways – a visual representation of a typical System tree.
"As we discussed yesterday," Miss Thorne began, her voice crisp and clear, "the fundamental principle of the System is growth. Every Awakened individual begins with a core Class and a set of base Stats. Through training, experience, and the completion of 'Quests' – both personal and global – they gain 'Experience Points' and 'Skill Points,' allowing them to unlock new abilities and enhance their existing ones."
Zephyr stared at the diagram, a familiar knot of resentment tightening in his stomach. He knew all this. He'd read every book, devoured every online forum, watched every documentary about the System. He was fascinated by it, despite its cruel indifference to him. He could recite the history of the First Awakening, the different Class archetypes, the theories behind mana manipulation, the intricacies of stat allocation. He knew it all, intellectually. But knowledge without application was just… trivia.
"Consider the 'Warrior' Class," Miss Thorne continued, highlighting a section of the diagram. "A common, yet versatile, Class. Their primary Stats are Strength and Vitality. They gain Skills like 'Shield Bash,' 'Power Strike,' 'Endurance.' A 'Mage,' on the other hand, prioritizes Intelligence and Wisdom, gaining access to spells like 'Fireball' or 'Arcane Shield.' Each path is unique, each offering its own challenges and rewards."
Zephyr's gaze drifted from the diagram to the students around him. He knew which ones were Awakened. There was a subtle confidence in their posture, a glint in their eyes that the Unmarked lacked. Some, like Kael, wore their Awakened status like a badge of honor, flaunting their abilities. Others, like Sarah, a quiet girl two rows ahead who had awakened as a 'Botanist' and could accelerate plant growth, used their powers more subtly, but the underlying sense of self-assuredness was still there. They had a purpose, a path.
He, Zephyr, had only the path to the cafeteria and then home.
"Now, for today's exercise," Miss Thorne announced, and a collective groan went through the class. "I want each of you to write a short essay – no less than five hundred words – on the ethical implications of Systemic progression. Specifically, address the growing disparity between the Awakened and the Unmarked. Is it a natural evolution, or a societal imbalance that needs addressing?"
Zephyr slumped further in his seat. An essay. On that. He had so many thoughts, so much bottled-up frustration on the topic. He could write pages on the inherent unfairness, the way the System had created a new form of aristocracy, how it had rendered people like him obsolete before they even had a chance. But what was the point? His words, like him, would just be echoes.
He pulled out a blank sheet of paper, his pen hovering over the pristine surface. He started to write, then stopped. The System has created an undeniable chasm... Too dramatic. The Unmarked are increasingly marginalized... Too whiny. He crumpled the paper.
He glanced out the window again. The sky was a dull, overcast grey, mirroring his mood. A lone bird, a sparrow, darted across the expanse, free and unburdened. He wished he could be that bird, soaring above the petty squabbles and rigid structures of Northwood.
He closed his eyes, taking a deep, shaky breath. The pain in his hand throbbed, a dull, persistent ache. He focused on it, trying to push it away, to ignore it. And then, it happened again.
That flicker. But this time, it wasn't at the edge of his vision. It was inside him. A warmth, starting in his chest, spreading rapidly through his veins. It wasn't unpleasant; rather, it was a strange, invigorating sensation, like a forgotten muscle suddenly flexing.
His eyes snapped open. The classroom, the dull lights, the droning voice of Miss Thorne – they all seemed to sharpen, to gain a new clarity. The air around him, which moments ago had felt stale, now seemed to shimmer with unseen currents. He could almost feel the faint, distinct auras of the Awakened students in the room, like subtle vibrations against his skin. Kael's angry crimson, Sarah's gentle blue-green, Miss Thorne's cool, analytical indigo. It was overwhelming, a cacophony of unseen energy.
He gasped, a small, involuntary sound. No one noticed. They were all engrossed in their essays, or pretending to be.
The warmth intensified, concentrating in his head. It felt like a thousand tiny needles, not painful, but intensely stimulating, pricking at the inside of his skull. And then, a sound. Not with his ears, but in his mind. A soft, almost imperceptible chime, like crystal striking crystal.
And then, it appeared.
It wasn't a physical object, not something he could touch or describe to anyone else. It was a translucent, ethereal screen, shimmering into existence directly in his line of sight, overlaid perfectly onto his vision. It was sleek, minimalist, with a faint, almost imperceptible glow.
[ SYSTEM AWAKENING COMPLETE ]
The words, stark white against the faint, shimmering background, pulsed with an undeniable energy. Zephyr's breath hitched. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drum. This couldn't be real. This was a dream. A hallucination. He was tired, stressed, humiliated. That was it.
He squeezed his eyes shut, hard. When he opened them, the screen was still there, unwavering.
[ SYSTEM AWAKENING COMPLETE ]
Below the initial message, more text began to scroll, a flood of information that his mind struggled to process.
[ WELCOME, USER. ][ IDENTIFYING CORE CLASS... ][ CORE CLASS: ECHO ]
Echo? What kind of Class was that? He'd never heard of it. Warriors, Mages, Rogues – those were the known Classes. Echo sounded… weak. Like him. His initial surge of disbelief was quickly replaced by a familiar wave of self-deprecating disappointment. Even his System Awakening was going to be pathetic.
[ CLASS DESCRIPTION: ECHO ]A rare and elusive Class, the Echo is a master of mimicry and resonance. While lacking inherent offensive or defensive capabilities, the Echo can observe, absorb, and temporarily replicate the abilities and statistical profiles of other Awakened individuals. The duration and potency of replicated abilities depend on the Echo's developing Resonance Stat and the target's power.
Zephyr stared at the description, his mind reeling. Mimicry? Replicate abilities? Could it be true? Could he... could he use Kael's strength? Miss Thorne's archival memory? The idea was dizzying, terrifying, exhilarating.
More text appeared.
[ INITIALIZING STATS... ]
[ NAME: ZEPHYR ][ CLASS: ECHO ][ LEVEL: 1 ][ EXPERIENCE: 0/100 ]
[ STATS ][ STRENGTH: 3 ][ AGILITY: 4 ][ VITALITY: 5 ][ INTELLIGENCE: 8 ][ WISDOM: 7 ][ DEXTERITY: 6 ][ RESONANCE: 10 (NEW STAT) ]
His eyes darted to his Strength stat: 3. Pathetic. Kael probably had a Strength of 30 or 40. But then he saw it: Resonance. A new stat, unique to his Class. It was his highest.
[ SKILLS ][ ECHOIC SENSE (ACTIVE) ]Allows the Echo to perceive the Systemic auras of other Awakened individuals within a limited range. Range increases with Resonance.
[ MIMICRY (ACTIVE) ]Upon successful activation of Echoic Sense on a target, the Echo can attempt to temporarily replicate one of the target's active abilities or a portion of their Stats. Success rate and duration depend on Resonance and target's power.
[ RESONANT SHIELD (PASSIVE) ]A faint, passive barrier that subtly dampens incoming Systemic attacks. Effectiveness scales with Vitality and Resonance.
Zephyr's gaze lingered on 'Mimicry'. Replicate. He could actually do it. The thought sent a jolt of pure, unadulterated hope through him, quickly followed by a wave of disbelief. This was too good to be true. After all these years, after all the humiliation, the System had finally chosen him. And not with some ordinary Class, but with something entirely unique, something that could potentially turn his weakness into an unexpected strength.
He instinctively tried to dismiss the screen, to make it go away, but it remained. He tried to touch it, his fingers passing through the ethereal display as if it were made of smoke. It was only visible to him.
"Zephyr, are you paying attention?" Miss Thorne's voice cut through his daze, sharp and accusatory.
He flinched, the System interface momentarily fading slightly at the periphery of his vision, but still present. "Y-yes, Miss Thorne," he stammered, his voice cracking.
She narrowed her eyes. "Then perhaps you can tell us, what are some of the primary ethical concerns regarding the rapid advancement of combat-oriented Awakened individuals?"
His mind, still reeling from the System's appearance, instantly accessed the information he had devoured over the years. The 'Archivist' in Miss Thorne would appreciate a well-structured answer.
"The primary concern," Zephyr began, his voice gaining a surprising steadiness, "is the potential for a power imbalance that could lead to social stratification and the marginalization of the Unmarked. As combat-oriented Awakened gain more power, they could exert undue influence over governance and resources, potentially leading to a de facto caste system. Furthermore, the psychological impact on both the Awakened, who might develop a superiority complex, and the Unmarked, who could suffer from feelings of inadequacy and resentment, is significant. There's also the question of accountability – who governs the powerful, and how do we ensure their abilities are used for the common good, rather than personal gain or oppression?"
He paused, surprised by the eloquence that had flowed from him. It was as if the words had simply been there, waiting to be spoken, organized and ready. He looked at Miss Thorne, expecting her usual unimpressed nod.
Instead, her eyebrows were slightly raised, a hint of surprise in her eyes. "An excellent and comprehensive answer, Zephyr," she said, a rare note of genuine approval in her voice. "You've articulated the core issues very well. Perhaps you should consider writing more on this topic."
A faint blush crept up Zephyr's neck. He mumbled a quick "Thank you."
He looked back at the System screen, which had returned to full visibility. Was it his imagination, or had his Intelligence stat flickered slightly? No, it was still 8. But the clarity, the sudden ability to articulate complex thoughts – was that a subtle effect of his Awakening? Or just the adrenaline?
He glanced around the classroom, his eyes now scanning the students with a new perception. He could feel the faint, almost imperceptible hum of their auras. Kael's was a vibrant, aggressive red, pulsing with raw power. Sarah's was a gentle, nurturing green, almost like a soft breeze. Miss Thorne's was a sharp, precise blue, like a perfectly cut sapphire.
He focused on Kael, who was still trying to look bored while secretly doodling on his essay. Zephyr concentrated, trying to activate 'Echoic Sense'. He imagined a connection, a subtle probe reaching out.
For a moment, nothing. Then, a faint, almost imperceptible thread of crimson energy seemed to extend from Kael's aura, connecting to Zephyr's own System interface.
[ ECHOIC SENSE: TARGET ACQUIRED - KAEL (WARRIOR) ]
[ DETECTED ABILITIES: ][ POWER STRIKE (ACTIVE) ][ ENDURANCE (PASSIVE) ]
[ DETECTED STATS: ][ STRENGTH: 32 ][ VITALITY: 28 ][ AGILITY: 15 ]
Zephyr's jaw dropped. Strength 32! That was immense. He had only 3. The disparity was staggering. But the System said he could mimic it.
He quickly read the description for 'Mimicry' again. "Upon successful activation of Echoic Sense on a target, the Echo can attempt to temporarily replicate one of the target's active abilities or a portion of their Stats."
Could he really do it? Could he, Zephyr, a weakling, temporarily gain Kael's strength? The thought was intoxicating, terrifying. What would happen if he tried? What if he failed? What if someone saw?
He looked at his throbbing hand. The humiliation of moments ago still burned. He looked at Kael, who was now flexing his bicep subtly, as if showing off even to himself. A spark of defiance, fueled by years of suppressed anger, ignited within Zephyr.
He had nothing to lose. He was already at the bottom.
He focused again on Kael, and then on the 'Mimicry' skill. He willed it to activate. He imagined the crimson thread of Kael's aura thickening, flowing into him.
A sudden, intense surge of energy coursed through his body. It wasn't the gentle warmth from before; this was a raw, almost violent influx. His muscles tensed, his vision sharpened even further, and he felt a profound sense of power, alien yet exhilarating, flood his limbs. It was as if his entire being had been stretched, filled with something vast and potent.
The System screen flickered.
[ MIMICRY: STRENGTH (KAEL) - SUCCESS! ][ TEMPORARY STAT BOOST: STRENGTH +20 ][ DURATION: 15 SECONDS ]
Zephyr stared at the screen, then at his hands. They looked the same, thin and unremarkable. But they felt different. He clenched his fist, and the air around it seemed to crackle with latent power. He felt like he could punch through the desk, lift the entire classroom. It was an overwhelming, almost frightening sensation.
He had to test it. But how? He couldn't just stand up and start smashing things.
His gaze fell on his crumpled essay paper, still lying on his desk. He picked it up. It felt… flimsy. Too light. He could crush it with a thought.
He needed something more substantial. His eyes landed on his history textbook. It was thick, heavy. He picked it up with his injured hand. The pain was still there, but it was distant, dulled by the surge of power.
He gripped the textbook, his fingers wrapping around the spine. He felt an urge, an instinct, to apply pressure. He squeezed.
The textbook, a sturdy, hardbound volume, began to creak. A faint tearing sound. Zephyr's eyes widened. He wasn't even trying to crush it, just gripping it firmly. Yet, the spine was bending, the pages beginning to warp.
He quickly released his grip. The book sprang back slightly, but the spine was visibly creased, a permanent testament to the abnormal strength he had just wielded.
He looked at his hand, then at the System screen.
[ DURATION: 10 SECONDS REMAINING ]
The power was already fading. The intense surge began to recede, replaced by a lingering warmth, then a faint tremor in his limbs. The world slowly returned to its normal, dull clarity. The auras of the Awakened students faded back into imperceptible hums.
[ MIMICRY: STRENGTH (KAEL) - EXPIRED ]
He was back to normal. Weak. Unmarked. But not entirely. The crumpled textbook, the memory of that incredible surge of power – they were real. He had done it. He, Zephyr, the weakling, had awakened a System. And it was a System unlike any other.
A nervous, almost hysterical laugh bubbled up in his chest. He quickly suppressed it, glancing around the classroom. No one had noticed. They were still writing, still oblivious.
He looked at Kael, who was now yawning widely. Zephyr felt a strange mix of fear and exhilaration. He had tasted power, even if only for a fleeting moment. He had touched the System, not as an observer, but as a participant.
His mind raced. What did this mean? How could he use this? Could he really become stronger, not just temporarily, but permanently? The System description mentioned "Resonance" and "Leveling." He had to understand it, master it.
The bell rang, signaling the end of class. Students began to pack up, their chairs scraping against the floor. Zephyr slowly, carefully, put his damaged textbook into his bag. His hand still throbbed, but now, a different sensation accompanied the pain – a faint, almost imperceptible hum beneath his skin, a resonance that hinted at the dormant power within.
As he walked out of the classroom, he saw Kael waiting by the door, surrounded by his usual entourage. Kael caught his eye, a smirk playing on his lips. "See you tomorrow, Zephyr," he said, his voice laced with unspoken threats.
Zephyr didn't flinch this time. He just nodded, a small, almost imperceptible movement. He kept walking, his head held a fraction of an inch higher than before. He was still the weakling, still the echo. But now, he had a secret. A powerful, terrifying, and utterly exhilarating secret. The System had awakened within him, and the echoes of its power were just beginning to resonate. His journey, from the unmarked shadows to a destiny he couldn't yet comprehend, had just begun.