By law, newly awakened individuals were required to report to the Awakeners Association within twenty-four hours. It wasn't just about formality. From that moment on, they were no longer ordinary citizens—they were recognized assets of the Federation.
The Federation Supernatural Bureau—the governing body that replaced fragmented nations after the apocalypse—ran two major arms under its umbrella: the Awakeners Association, and the Bloodliners Association.
The former dealt with those blessed by the Nexus. The latter with those who forged their power from Earth's own resources. Two paths, one world.
Fin's inherited memories pointed him to a familiar location—the Association's local headquarters. A place half revered, half feared. Tourists took selfies in front of it. Aspiring students dreamed of entering it. And Awakeners? They treated it like a second home—or a second prison, depending on who you asked.
Fin stepped onto the curb and considered walking, but just then, a taxi pulled to a gentle stop beside him, its door sliding open with a hiss.
"To the Awakeners Association," he said, sliding in.
"That'll be twenty dollars," the driver replied.
Fin nodded. "No problem."
The car hummed to life, pulling away from the curb. He leaned back against the seat and stared out the window, watching the city blur past.
The registration was only the beginning.
But it was also the point of no return.
The Association wasn't exactly close—on foot, it would've taken Fin around forty-five minutes. But by taxi, the ride was short, less than twenty.
Settling into the back seat, Fin leaned against the headrest and finally allowed his body to relax. The tension he'd carried since stepping into the Awakening Hall began to unravel. The driver glanced at him a few times through the rearview mirror, as if debating whether to strike up a conversation, but Fin kept his eyes closed.
He needed the silence.
Just a moment to breathe.
Only a few minutes passed before he felt a light tap on his arm.
"We're here," the driver said.
Fin opened his eyes, blinking away the fog in his mind. But that haze quickly vanished when he saw the building ahead—a wide, modern structure of metal and glass with the bold emblem of the Awakeners Association above the entrance.
He sat up, instantly more alert.
"Your code, please," he said.
The driver turned and held up a small device with a digital QR code. Fin scanned it using the terminal on his phone. A soft beep confirmed the payment.
"Thanks for the ride," Fin said, opening the door.
"No problem! And hey—congratulations on your awakening!"
The cab pulled away, merging back into traffic. Fin watched it for a moment, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
He turned to face the Association building once more. A deep breath steadied him.
Time to start this new life.
Fin stepped through the sliding glass doors and entered the Woodstone City branch of the Awakeners Association.
To his surprise, the inside was noisy. Loud, even.
From the outside, the building had seemed calm and almost solemn. But inside? The lobby was buzzing with voices, footsteps, and the quiet hum of machines. The air carried the scent of polish and new furniture.
Dozens of people filled the hall, most of them teenagers like him.
Fin didn't need to think hard to understand what he was seeing. These were new Awakeners—just like him.
With only two Awakeners Association branches in the entire city, it made sense that all the newly awakened would gather here. And considering that schools nationwide had synchronized their Awakening Ceremonies this year, it was likely that most of these young people had just awakened earlier this morning.
After today, the crowds would probably thin. The next few days would see a trickle, not a flood.
A quick scan of the room told him there were at least fifty students present. That was a decent number, considering Velin City had only seven high schools, public and private combined.
Some stood in small groups, chatting nervously. Others were alone, like Fin, eyes wide as they took in the grandeur of the place.
A few security officers and staff members moved through the crowd, guiding people toward different reception counters and digital kiosks.
Fin made his way toward one of the shorter lines, joining a queue of mostly teens waiting their turn at the registration desk.
He wasn't exactly sure what to expect once he reached the front, but seeing others his age—faces filled with equal parts anxiety and anticipation—made the process feel a little less daunting.
Thankfully, the line moved quickly.
Nearly half an hour later, he was second from the front, with only one person ahead of him. Behind him, the line had grown, winding almost to the entrance.
Fin adjusted the strap of the bag slung across his shoulder, straightened his back, and looked forward.
"Good day, sir. What can I do for you today?" the receptionist greeted him warmly. She looked to be in her late twenties, dressed in a sharp uniform, with a polite but professional smile that instantly put him at ease.
Fin straightened slightly. "I'm here to register."
"As?" she asked, her eyes flicking briefly to his school uniform. Students usually came here for one of two reasons: they'd either awakened during the national ceremony, or they were prodigies who'd awakened before graduating. Given the date, she could guess—but she preferred not to assume.
"As an Awakener," Fin confirmed.
"I see." She nodded, unfazed, and began entering his details into the terminal. Her fingers moved quickly across the glowing screen as she spoke. "Name, age, address?"
Fin answered each question without hesitation. When she asked for his bank account number, he briefly raised a brow but complied. Whatever it was for, he assumed it was tied to the Association's system.
Surprisingly, the process was quick—clean and efficient.
"Aren't you going to ask about my class?" Fin asked curiously, tilting his head.
"There's no need for that, Mr. Voss," she replied, her smile still in place. "Your school will have already forwarded that information to us."
"Ah, that makes sense," Fin said, a little relieved. I thought she might've forgotten, but doing a check for every individual would take forever. Especially today.
After confirming everything, she printed out a document and handed him a stylus.
"Signature here," she said.
He signed. Then she handed him a biometric scanner.
"Thumb, please."
Fin pressed his finger to the small glass panel. A brief flicker of light scanned his fingerprint, and with that, the process was done.
The woman's tone shifted subtly—now more formal, almost ceremonial.
"Congratulations on your awakening, Mr. Voss," she said. "As of today, you are officially recognized as a warrior of the Federation."
Her fingers moved across the screen once more.
"You will shortly receive a welcome package via email. This will include government-issued benefits, instructions, rules, and prohibition, along with a link to an exclusive digital platform designed for Awakeners.
"To log in, your password will be your full name in all capital letters, followed by the year of the awakening—'186'—no spaces."
She paused for a moment to ensure he was following before continuing.
"As part of your benefits package, you are now eligible for a monthly stipend of $25,000."
Fin blinked.
She wasn't done.
"However, there are conditions. You must admit to one of the Awakeners academies and reach Tier 1 (level 25) within six months. Failure to do so will result in the payment being halved. If you do not reach further goals, the stipend will keep being halved.
"On the bright side," she added with a wink, "your benefits will increase as your rank increases..."
The reception lady kept listing the perks, but Fin was focused on one thing: money.
And not just a few hundred. Thousands. Every month.
He hadn't even done anything yet!
The stipend alone was life-changing. And that was just the beginning.
Other perks would likely follow. Training access, equipment support, housing, maybe even security clearances…
Fin's pulse quickened. A part of him wanted to scream with joy, but he managed to hold it together—barely.
"Is there anything else you'd like to ask, Mr. Voss?" the receptionist said, her tone returning to its professionalism.
"When does the payment arrive?" Fin asked without ounce of shame or embarrassment. The thick skin he developed due his various job interview rejection played vital roles here.
For a moment, the receptionist froze. Then she blinked, her smile twitching into something more genuine—amused, even.
She gave a soft chuckle but managed to stay composed. "Within half hour, sir. Usually much sooner."
Fin nodded quickly, grateful she didn't tease him about it.
"Thanks."
"My pleasure. Welcome to the Federation, Mr. Voss."
Fin was about to step away, but paused. A thought tugged at him, and he turned back to the receptionist.
"Actually… do you have any recommendations? Like, is there anything newcomers like me should know or do right after registering?"
The receptionist's smile returned—this time with a faint hint of approval, as if she appreciated the question.
"Good thinking," she said. "Most people are too caught up in the excitement to ask."
She tapped a few keys on her terminal, then looked back up at him. "My first recommendation? Head to the designated training facility as soon as you can. Your body might feel normal now, but awakened powers have a way of slipping out—especially for first-timers. You'd be surprised how many burn holes through their sheets, crack walls just by stretching, or accidentally trigger a skill while sneezing."
Fin blinked. "Seriously?"
"Dead serious," she said with a light chuckle. "It's more common than you'd think. Your power is like a newborn animal—it doesn't know how to stay still yet, and neither do you."
She slid over a small card across the counter. "This has the address of the closest Association training ground. It's built specifically for early-stage Awakeners. Reinforced rooms, basic energy sensors, supervision staff—you'll be safe, and more importantly, so will everyone around you."
Fin took the card and pocketed it with a quiet nod of thanks.
"One more thing," the receptionist added, her tone growing just a bit firmer. "Do not use your powers in public. Until you've received proper training and clearance, any display of supernatural ability outside Association-approved zones is a direct violation of Federation law. That includes even minor things—flaring energy, blinking around, glowing eyes, whatever your ability does."
She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice.
"It might feel exciting right now. But people panic easily. You don't want to end up detained before you've even passed your first assessment."
Fin swallowed and gave a quick, serious nod. "Understood."
Her smile returned, softer this time. "Good. Then you're already doing better than most."
He offered her a polite thanks before stepping away from the counter, the warning still echoing in his head.
Training ground first. Celebration later.