The universe is vast—perhaps far vaster than human minds can grasp. And maybe that vastness is what fuels humanity's endless hunger to explore—to reach beyond planets, beyond stars, into the unknown.
For generations, the dream of colonizing other planets felt hopeless. Humanity lacked the ability to travel that far, and even if we could, the journey would consume lifetimes—light years swallowed by the void of space.
But everything changed.
One day, strange gateways were discovered in hidden corners of the Earth. Gates unlike anything seen before—pulsating with an overwhelming energy, clearly not of this world. When the first humans dared to step through, what they found left them speechless.
Another world.
No—another planet.
News of this discovery rocked humanity to its core. No longer bound by the limitations of space travel, people could now walk through a gate and arrive on a new, habitable world. Resources, land, life—it was all there, ripe for the taking.
From that moment on, humanity expanded with a hunger never seen before. One planet after another fell into human hands, and with each conquest came new knowledge, new power, and... something else.
A new race was born.
Humans began to interbreed with the inhabitants of other worlds. Their DNA—foreign, ancient, powerful—blended with ours. The result was a new generation, physically and mentally superior. Stronger. Faster. Smarter.
Then came the phenomenon called Awakening.
It was rare at first—this moment when certain individuals suddenly manifested extraordinary abilities. Some could manipulate elements. Others moved faster than the eye could see. A few bent the laws of nature itself. At first, it terrified humanity. But over time, it became the new norm.
Soon, over 99% of the population was born with alien DNA. Only 1% remained purely human—ordinary. Not because they chose to, but because their bodies rejected the integration. It was something decided at birth. A silent, cruel fate.
In this new world, those without powers were treated as inferior—less than citizens. Society moved on without them, and they were left behind, forgotten. The hierarchy was clear.
Yet even those born powerless can dream.
But dreams are dangerous when the world is against you.
Outside one of the most prestigious academies in the city, a girl stood quietly.
Her long black hair flowed like a velvet river, dancing softly in the breeze, each strand whispering secrets as it curled behind her. Her eyes were blue—deep and clear, like the sky after a storm—calm yet piercing, as if they could unravel your thoughts with a glance.
She wore a crisp white school uniform that shimmered in the morning sun, contrasted by a dark blue skirt that swayed in rhythm with the wind. A matching blue tie rested gently beneath her collar, perfectly completing the look of elegance and discipline.
Despite her youthful appearance, her figure was unmistakably mature. The gentle curves of her body—most notably her full chest—did not diminish her aura of innocence. Instead, they gave her a quiet, unspoken allure. She stood like someone who did not belong in this world—someone out of place, or perhaps...
"Finally... finally, finally!"
Angelita jumped with joy, unable to hold back her excitement. "I can try! I might get accepted into the academy! Maybe I have a hidden power... Maybe I have a chance to succeed."
Angelita entered the academy, and the excitement on her face made everything around me feel unreal. The halls were vast and full of energy. she kept walking, taking it all in—students chatting, some laughing, others walking with confidence. Even the male students seemed so far beyond her. They weren't her…
They were more.
Eventually, she reached the examination room.
The interior took her by surprise. It was luxurious—almost royal in its design. On the walls hung portraits of the academy's most outstanding students. Their faces were calm, full of pride and power. Names like Albedo Shiro, Shizuku Miyake, and Albert Miyokozu stood out beneath them, glowing faintly under crystal lights. The very air in the room felt heavier, like it was watching me.
The examiner, a man sitting behind a desk, glanced at her—then at Angelita. His eyes lingered on her for a moment longer than necessary, and a strange smile crept onto his face.
"You're five minutes late, Angelita-chan," he said, maintaining that same unsettling grin.
"I-I am s-so sorry," she replied, her voice shaking slightly.
"No problem," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "Let's see what you've got. Place your hand on this artifact and we'll determine your potential."
He pointed to a glowing circle suspended above a strange stone that shimmered with embedded energy. Angelita hesitated. Fear flickered in her eyes—but only for a second. She took a deep breath and stepped forward, placing her hand on the stone.
Colors began to swirl in the circle, shifting rapidly—red, green, gold—while behind them, a screen came to life, displaying numbers and percentages that adjusted with every pulse.
"Please... let there be something. Anything."
After five tense seconds, the lights stopped.
Angelita slowly pulled her hand back, then turned to look at the screen. Her face went pale.
– Evaluation Complete –
Physical Abilities: Normal
Speed: Normal
Intelligence: 120
Abilities: 0
Skills: 0
The examiner raised an eyebrow and tilted his head slightly. A smirk returned to his lips.
"Hmm... disappointing," he said. He then stepped closer to Angelita, placing a hand on her shoulder in what seemed like a gesture of false sympathy.
Angelita flinched slightly. Her eyes trembled.
"You don't belong here," he said, his tone low and quiet. Then, leaning in, he added, "But… maybe there's another way to get you accepted. Something... less official."
Angelita's eyes widened. She stepped back immediately.
"No!" she shouted, her voice sharp and clear. Without waiting for a reply, she turned and ran out of the room, her footsteps echoing behind her.
The examiner watched her leave, his expression twisting with irritation and something darker.
"Tch... what a waste. But she'll be back. They always come back... eventually."
Meanwhile, Angelita kept running—her footsteps echoing through the marble halls of the academy until she burst through its grand gates. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks, blurring her vision. The once-bright afternoon sky had dulled, casting long shadows as she stumbled into the city's poorer district.
She walked aimlessly for a while, wiping at her eyes with trembling hands, until she arrived at the gates of a worn-down public school. Its walls were faded, windows cracked, and the yard overgrown with weeds. She slumped down on a bench just outside the entrance, burying her face in her hands.
Passersby glanced her way, then quickly looked away. Their words, however, did not.
"Scum."
"Low-class trash."
"She probably failed the Awakening Test. Figures."
They didn't need to see her badge or ask about her rank. In this world, where social status was directly linked to one's magical aptitude, people judged instantly—and cruelly.
Time passed.
One hour.
Two.
Three...
Eight full hours later, the streetlights flickered to life.
It was 7:03 PM. The sky above her had shifted to a deep indigo, painted with the first stars of the evening. Angelita finally lifted her head. Her eyes were swollen and red, her cheeks streaked with dried tears.
She looked up—toward the stars, toward something beyond reach.
"W-Why is it just me...? This isn't fair!" she screamed through sobs. "I-I hate this... I hate this world... and I hate myself! Why do I even exist!?"
Her voice cracked and vanished into the cold night air.
And yet, the stars above remained unmoved.
Angelita stood slowly, her body trembling with every step. She was no longer just sad—she was hollow. The kind of emptiness only a crushed dream could bring. Her tears continued to fall silently as she walked the cracked sidewalk back home.
After thirty minutes of walking, she arrived.
Her house stood small and tired at the edge of the district. The paint peeled from its wooden walls. The windows rattled in the breeze. It wasn't just modest—it was barely livable. But it was home.
She knocked gently—once, twice, three times.
The door creaked open, revealing a woman who bore an uncanny resemblance to Angelita. Her mother, Mina.
Though the resemblance was striking—the same eyes, the same soft features—Mina's face had aged with hardship and perseverance. She took one look at her daughter's tear-streaked face and rushed forward.
"What happened to you, my sweet girl?" she asked, her voice filled with worry.
Angelita could barely speak.
"I... I failed, Mom... I didn't get into the academy," she whispered, her voice brittle. "I'm sorry... I let you down."
But Mina said nothing at first. Instead, she pulled Angelita into a warm embrace, her arms wrapping around her like a shield against the world. She rested her hand gently on the back of Angelita's head.
"You've never let me down," she whispered. "Not once."
Angelita's breath hitched.
"But... even if you didn't awaken, even if I stay like this forever..."
"I'll still be your mother. Nothing in this world could ever change that."
"M-Mom..." Angelita mumbled, her tears flowing again. Her eyes widened in an almost comical expression, making her look younger than she was.
Mina smiled and wiped her daughter's tears. "Now, who's my strong girl?"
"I-I am... I'm a strong girl," Angelita said with a small, shaky smile.
"There we go." Mina chuckled and tugged playfully at Angelita's cheeks. "Don't forget what I always told you: when you feel like trash, like you're not good enough, and those fancy academy brats try to make you feel small—what do you do?"
"Always look up to the sky and talk to the Creator," Angelita said softly, raising her eyes upward once more.
"Exactly." Mina smiled and stepped aside. "Now come in. I made your favorite stew."
"Thank you, Mom." Angelita replied, this time with a genuine, grateful smile.
Mina gently patted her on the head, her fingers running through Angelita's messy hair before she turned and walked inside.
Angelita stood at the threshold for a moment longer, glancing once more at the night sky. A soft, quiet smile crossed her lips.
"Thank you... for giving me my mother," she whispered.
And with that, she stepped inside.
Angelita sat at the modest wooden table, slowly eating her mother's stew. The aroma of herbs and vegetables filled the small house, and with every bite, warmth returned to her heart—a warmth she had almost forgotten during the long hours of tears and rejection.
Despite her aching chest, she smiled faintly. The stew tasted of home… of comfort… of love.
The hours passed quietly. Angelita sat on the floor beside her bed, surrounded by worn books stacked in uneven piles. Though she hadn't been accepted into the academy, she hadn't lost her will to learn. She flipped through the pages slowly, absorbing each word with purpose. Just because the academy rejected me doesn't mean the world has ended, she told herself. I still have my dreams. I still have my mind.
To Angelita, fate was never something predictable. It was like the wind—sometimes cruel, sometimes kind, but always changing.
After a while, she leaned against the edge of her bed and looked out the small window. The sky, now painted in shades of navy and deep violet, stretched endlessly above her. As she stared into it, memories of her childhood surfaced, soft and vivid like a dream.
"Look, dear Angelita. Do you see that sky?"Mina's voice was warm and tender, like a melody in the wind. She sat beneath a tree, little Angelita curled in her lap.
"Yes, Mom!" Angelita replied with excitement, her small eyes wide and gleaming.
"There's something beyond all of this," Mina said, pointing upward. "Beings beyond our understanding. Something far greater."
"Ehh… really!?" the little girl squealed, eyes sparkling with wonder.
"Yes. Would you like to know who He is?"
"Tell me, tell me!" Angelita bounced on her mother's lap, eager.
Mina chuckled and said teasingly, "Where's my kiss first?"
Little Angelita grinned and planted an enthusiastic kiss on her mother's cheek. Mina laughed softly, gently patting her daughter's head.
"Good girl. Well then… He is called the Creator."
"The Creator?" Angelita repeated, tilting her head in curiosity.
"Yes," Mina replied, her eyes softening. "One who stands above everything. I don't fully understand Him, my dear… but I believe He's there."
"R-Really?!" Angelita beamed.
"Yes… really," Mina whispered.
Suddenly, Angelita's expression grew serious. "Mom... I've made up my mind!"
"Huh?" Mina blinked.
"I'll keep learning, and when my awakening comes, I'll do everything I can to grow stronger… and someday… I'll meet the Creator face to face!"
"Eh~?" Mina tilted her head with a soft smile.
"And then… I'll write something so powerful, so meaningful… that it'll let me stand beside Him." Angelita said it with conviction far beyond her years. "That's my goal, Mom."
Mina blinked in surprise, then laughed gently. "Kufufufu… oh my sweet girl." She hugged her daughter tightly. "I bet the Creator would be proud to meet someone as precious as you."
"Hehehe…" Angelita giggled, resting in her mother's arms.
The memory faded like morning mist, and Angelita returned to the present. Her gaze was still fixed on the sky beyond the window. Her fingers slowly clasped together over her chest, as if protecting something fragile.
"I will not give up," she whispered, more to herself than anyone else. "Never."
She studied for a few more hours, pushing herself, holding on to the dream that had been born beneath the stars so long ago. And when sleep finally called her, she laid her head down on the modest pillow of her simple bed, her heart quiet, yet burning with silent resolve.
She closed her eyes, and the darkness embraced her gently.
Tomorrow would be another day.
The days passed in quiet persistence. Angelita refused to accept her fate as someone who didn't belong to the advanced class of humans. Determination burned in her chest like a second heartbeat. She immersed herself in studies, waking up each day with one goal in mind—to awaken.
Every morning she would leave her modest home, head straight to the library, and spend hours reading through tomes of forgotten spells, theories on magic, records of awakenings, and every skill-related manuscript she could find. Her days became routine, yet purposeful.
A week passed.Then two.Then three.
Each day mirrored the one before it—until one morning, something unexpected broke the pattern.
As she opened her front door, a small white envelope lay on the ground. It was clean, unmarked, yet oddly out of place. Angelita picked it up, eyebrows furrowed in curiosity.
To: Angelita Albert
You may not remember us, but we were your classmates in the nursery.We know about your awakening troubles—and we want to help.Come to the address written on the back of this letter.Arrive at exactly 10 PM.We'll show you the way forward.
Angelita blinked, rereading the letter. Her heart fluttered with hope. She had many friends in the nursery, especially among the boys, though she often struggled to connect with the girls. But now... maybe someone still cared enough to reach out?
With cautious optimism, she tucked the letter away and headed to the library, burying herself once again in books, determined to be prepared for whatever this mysterious offer might be.
Night fell. The clock struck 10 PM.
Angelita, nervous but hopeful, arrived at the address—a secluded alley behind the library. Her footsteps slowed as she looked around. It was quiet... too quiet.
Then, from the shadows, three figures emerged, each wearing a school uniform, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of a nearby lamp.
"Long time no see, Angelita~," said Rena, her long blond hair swaying gently, her green eyes glinting with mischief.
"Did you miss us?" Lina added with a wide grin. Her red hair framed her golden eyes, gleaming with something darker than joy.
"Tch... let's get this over with. I have better things to do," muttered Shizuku, her cold blue eyes matching her short, icy-blue hair.
Angelita's heart stopped. "Rena... Lina... Shizuku...?"
"Yes, it's us," Rena said with a sinister smile, stepping closer. "What's wrong? Has the garbage of society forgotten her masters already?"
Without warning, Rena clenched her fist and slammed it into Angelita's face. The force of the punch sent her reeling, crashing to the ground. Blood dripped from her lips as her vision blurred.
"Still dreaming about awakening?" Rena spat, grabbing Angelita by the hair and yanking her head up. "You really think trash like you deserves it? Pathetic."
"Let's have a little fun with our old school toy," Rena added, her voice now dripping with cruelty.
"I'm in," Lina said, cracking her knuckles.
"Fine. Better than wasting time on spell theory," Shizuku said, stepping forward.
Angelita trembled. "Please... not again... please stop…"
But the night was not kind.
For the next hour, Angelita endured their torment—beatings, mocking laughter, and cruelty that went beyond words. When it was over, she lay on the cold ground, her face swollen and bruised, her school uniform torn in several places, blood trailing from her mouth.
The girls walked away, still laughing, their figures disappearing into the night.
Angelita rose slowly, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. Her legs trembled beneath her as she struggled to stand. Each movement sent waves of pain through her bruised body, but she pushed forward, one staggering step at a time, determined to make it home.
As she walked through the quiet streets, fragmented memories returned—visions of the nursery, of Rena, Lina, and Shizuku, and the torment she had endured even as a child. Despite the ache in her limbs and heart, she focused on the road ahead, refusing to be consumed by the past.
She stopped at a traffic light, staring up at the vast night sky. The stars offered no comfort, no reply to her unspoken question. With a voice full of quiet desperation, she whispered,
"Please... show me a sign that you're real... Creator."
She waited, eyes scanning the heavens, but no answer came—no light, no voice, no miracle. With a sigh, she stepped into the street, speaking softly to herself,
"Maybe it's not real… But I won't give up. It has to be real. Yes."
Then, without realizing it, she crossed while the light was still red.
A truck came barreling down the road, its headlights blinding and merciless. Time seemed to slow. Angelita turned toward the noise, eyes widening in shock.
"H-Huh?"
A loud, crushing sound echoed through the empty street. The impact flung her like a ragdoll into a lamppost. Her body struck with a sickening thud, then collapsed to the ground, motionless—blood pooling around her.
No one stopped. The driver didn't even notice. Passersby pretended not to see. In that moment, she became invisible—a reflection of how society treated those without power, without awakening.
Lying on the cold pavement, Angelita gazed upward again, her fading breath catching on her lips.
"Is this it…? Am I going to die here…? Without ever awakening… without chasing my dreams?"
Tears mixed with blood as she closed her eyes, whispering,
"I really hate this world..."
Then—something shifted.
Angelita's awareness didn't vanish. Instead, her consciousness was swept into a strange, boundless stream. She felt herself pulled at impossible speeds, through a reality unlike anything she'd known. Time itself unraveled before her—thin threads stretching infinitely in all directions.
She moved toward a radiant light, drawn beyond comprehension.
Suddenly, she was there.
A white, endless space engulfed her. It wasn't just light—it was absence. The void was not empty, but too full for the human mind to comprehend. So her soul translated it into something her thoughts could grasp.
In this impossible realm, she saw a figure seated at a lone desk, writing in a massive book. The figure's shape was unclear, undefined. Yet something about it drew her closer.
But when the figure turned to her—no face, no eyes, only presence—her very concept began to dissolve. Her essence began to unravel. She was disappearing, fading from existence as if her soul were being unmade.
Until—suddenly—the form changed.
Her mind could not grasp the formless truth, so he allowed her to see what she could understand.
He now appeared as a man—divine and terrifying.
His body was sculpted, each muscle taut and defined, like steel forged by the hands of gods. His black hair was wild, chaotic, yet beautiful—falling in untamed waves across his sharp face. A storm of elegance and brutality.
His pale yellow eyes looked like extinguished embers—emotionless, cold, ancient.
He wore a black suit, immaculate and tailored to perfection. A pure white collar framed his neck, and a black tie lay tight and formal against his chest. He looked like something from beyond time—refined and absolute.
Angelita gasped.
"W-what just happened…?"
The man spoke, his voice without sound—yet somehow perfectly clear in her mind.
"You almost ceased to exist. You looked upon my formless."
"But… how? Why?" she asked, still trembling.
"It's simple. Your mind cannot comprehend me. Not even a god could. So I've taken this form—one you can tolerate. Otherwise, your concept would have vanished."
Her knees weakened. She swallowed hard.
"A-are you… a god?"
"No. Beyond."
The moment he said that, Angelita's soul fell to its knees. Not from choice—her body simply obeyed. She could not lift her eyes. She dared not. Every fiber of her being screamed to submit, to lower her head and never look again.
It was terrifying. It was wrong. It was divine.
But then—something shifted. She felt it. He allowed her to raise her gaze, to look upon him.
Her voice shook,
"Are you… the Creator?"
There was a pause.
"Yes."
For a moment, time stood still.
Angelita said nothing. Her body couldn't move. Her thoughts couldn't form. Yet underneath the fear—beneath the pain and trembling and awe—something burned bright inside her.
A single, powerful emotion.
Hope.
The Creator… was real.
And he was looking at her.
Angelita dashed forward, her soul trembling with anticipation. As she reached the figure in front of her, she abruptly stopped and bowed her head low, unable to meet his gaze. There was an overwhelming reverence in her posture—as if the very essence of her being recognized the presence before her.
"I've waited so long for this moment..." she whispered, her voice shaking with emotion. Her eyes sparkled like stars, and she grinned with childlike joy. "You're real... You're actually real!"
Her expression shifted into an adorably goofy face as she bounced with excitement, the joy within her soul overflowing like a fountain. She had dreamed of this day—a moment her mother had spoken of with awe.
The man, seated quietly at a desk carved from existence itself, continued to write in a massive book with a quill that seemed to draw from reality itself. Without looking up, he spoke—not with volume, but with presence. His voice was low, almost inaudible, and yet every word was clear, as if it echoed inside her mind rather than her ears.
"So... you're from the lower realms."
"Y-Yes! But how did you—" she started.
"Because I know." His voice cut gently through the space between them, still calm, still writing.
Angelita's breath caught in her throat. There was no hesitation in his tone. No doubt.
"Amazing...!" she gasped, her spiritual senses lighting up. "Just as my mother told me... He truly is one of the Creators. Absolute freedom. Absolute will. He does whatever he desires... however he wants. This is... amazing."
"Yes. I am," the man responded simply, his hand never ceasing its endless transcription.
A moment of silence passed as Angelita tried to comprehend how he had heard her internal thoughts. Then it hit her.
Of course... He is the Creator.
"Excuse me... I—I have a question," she said, her voice trembling with curiosity and hope.
He didn't need to let her finish. "I know. You're wondering about the awakening... you weren't born with it."
The words struck her like thunder.
The excitement within her dimmed. Her eyes widened slightly, then softened with understanding. That was all she needed to hear. She had always suspected it—deep inside her soul. She wasn't chosen. She wasn't born special.
"I see..." she murmured. "Thank you for telling me... my Creator. Just having these few moments with you—this was enough to bring meaning to my otherwise miserable life. I may not have the awakening... but that doesn't matter. I'm already dead, anyway."
The man paused his writing for the first time. A subtle smile crossed his lips—not out of joy, nor kindness, but simply because he wished to smile. As he stood up, the entire place began to shift.
The world around them trembled. The very fabric of the realm distorted and twisted like ink in water, taking on infinite forms and possibilities. A multiverse in flux.
Angelita's eyes widened in horror and awe. She looked at the ever-changing chaos, then back to the Creator who now walked slowly toward her.
"Then perhaps... I can help you," he said, his voice again calm, unfazed, almost lazy—but powerful beyond imagination.
"W-Wh-Why would you help me?" she stammered, her voice cracking, her eyes wide with fear and disbelief.
"This is not compassion," the Creator said as he came to a stop before her. "Nor is it generosity... it is simply because I want to."
There was no logic in his answer. No reasoning. Just pure, unfettered will.
Angelita blinked. Her lips trembled. Then, in a comically emotional outburst, she broke into tears again, flailing her arms and crying out, "Yes, please!! Please!!!"
The Creator extended his hand. With a single motion, he touched her forehead.
And then—
–System Activated––Awakening Detected––Sub-abilities Acquired–
Fire Manipulation
Water Manipulation
Earth Manipulation
Air Manipulation
–Merging...––Element Manipulation Unlocked––Rare Achievement Acquired–
–The Creator has granted you Awakening––Title Obtained: The Chosen One–
–Basic Skills Unlocked–
Regeneration
Probability Manipulation
Infinite Evolution
–Divine Gift Received––System Online–
Angelita opened her eyes, her body glowing with newfound energy. She stared at her own hands, trembling. Her cheeks flushed with warmth as tears began falling again—this time from joy.
"I've awakened... I finally awakened..." she whispered, the words like a prayer on her lips. "I'm not worthless anymore. I'm not trash anymore. I matter!"
She turned to the Creator with glistening eyes, her voice shaking. "Thank you... thank you for giving me this."
But the Creator was already returning to his desk.
"Allow everyone to call me Donovan not as an identity but as a window into non-identity." He said in an inaudible but understandable voice
"Now it's time to go back to your world," he said, continuing to write, never looking up.
"W-Wait—what!?" Angelita gasped, just before a luminous gate tore open behind her. A force pulled at her soul, violently dragging her away.
"No—please! I have more questions! Wait!!" she screamed, reaching out to him.
"Everything in its time," the Creator whispered, as the gate closed.
Angelita awoke in the middle of the street, lying where the truck had hit her. Her body was still, but the wounds that once covered her were healing at an impossible rate.
She sat up slowly, her breath catching.
The pain was gone.
The blood... disappearing.
She looked to the sky. Her eyes welled up again, but this time, her smile broke through the tears.
"The Creator... is real," she whispered.
And then, without warning, she burst up from the ground and ran toward her home, laughing and skipping with uncontainable joy, her face lit up like that of a child who had just seen the stars for the first time.