The transport shuttle hummed, a low, steady sound that vibrated through the cheap plastic of Alex Vance's seat.
Outside the window, the endless blue of the ocean met a sky of the same color, making it hard to tell where one ended and the other began. It was peaceful.
Alex liked peaceful. Peaceful was good. It was the whole reason he was here.
He leaned his head against the cool glass, letting his eyes drift shut. The shuttle's hum was a perfect backdrop for the memory that flickered behind his eyelids.
It wasn't really a memory, more like a ghost of a feeling. Fire. Screaming. The crushing weight of power he never asked for, and the terrible price that came with it.
He remembered a life of constant fighting, of being a weapon for others, of reaching the very top only to realize how terribly lonely and painful it was.
He remembered the final, blinding flash, and then… nothing. Until he woke up here, in this new life, with a second chance he never expected.
This time, he had a simple, straightforward plan: be average. Be forgettable. Be so utterly unremarkable that no one would ever look at him twice.
He wanted a quiet life, a life where he could read books, tinker with old gadgets, and not have to worry about saving the world or fighting some new, terrifying monster.
A life where 'power' was something other people chased, not a curse he had to bear.
And Aegis Academy, the most famous school for raising powerful "Strikers," was, ironically, the perfect place to hide. After all, who would ever look for a quiet life in a place that trained heroes? It was the perfect hiding spot, right under the brightest light.
The shuttle landed with a soft bump. A pleasant voice announced their arrival at the man-made island that housed the academy.
Alex grabbed his single, plain bag and followed the crowd of excited teenagers. They were all buzzing with energy, their faces bright with dreams of becoming S-Rank Strikers, the highest and most respected rank.
Alex just hoped he could get a rank so low it was practically invisible.
The entrance exam took place in a huge, dome-shaped building. Inside, it looked like something out of a science fiction movie.
Dozens of pods were lined up in neat rows. Each student would enter a pod and face a simulated test. It wasn't a written test with boring questions.
This was a practical exam that tested everything: how you fought, how you made decisions, and how you synced with an "artifact," the special items that gave Strikers their powers.
Alex sat down in his assigned pod, the door hissing shut behind him. A calm voice explained the test.
A simulated city would appear, and he would have to stop a group of monsters, called Aberrations, from causing damage.
He also needed to find and "calibrate" a hidden artifact within the simulation. It was a complex test designed to push students to their limits.
For a normal person, it would be a stressful, difficult challenge. For Alex, it was like looking at the answers to a test before it even started.
His unique ability, the one he was desperately trying to hide, was called [The Debugger].
It was an SSS-Rank power, the highest possible, but it wasn't flashy. It didn't let him shoot fireballs or lift buildings.
Instead, it let him see the world as if it were a computer program. He could see the "source code" of everything around him. He saw the hidden rules, the secret mechanics, and the underlying logic that made things work.
As the simulation began, the world around him dissolved into lines of glowing green and blue code.
He saw the city, not as buildings and streets, but as a complex program. He saw the Aberrations, not as scary monsters, but as bundles of code with clear weaknesses.
He saw the hidden artifact, a glowing orb of data tucked away in a place no one would normally think to look.
He could also see the exam's scoring system. It was a beautiful, elegant piece of code, a work of art, really.
He saw every single action that would give him points. He saw the perfect path, the flawless route that would earn him a perfect score and an SSS-Rank designation.
He could be number one without even breaking a sweat.
And he absolutely, positively, was not going to do that.
"Okay," Alex muttered to himself with a small smile. "Let's see. How does one fail this thing in the most spectacular way possible?"
He looked at the code for the Aberrations. They had a simple "aggression" command that made them attack anything that moved.
He could easily find their weak spots and take them out in seconds. Instead, he found the part of their code that controlled their movement and gave it a little, invisible nudge.
Suddenly, the fearsome monsters started running in circles, bumping into each other like confused puppies. It was not very heroic, but it was pretty funny.
Next, he turned his attention to the artifact calibration. The goal was to pour just the right amount of energy into it to make it stable.
Too little, and it wouldn't work. Too much, and it would overload. The system was designed to measure a student's control and precision.
Alex saw the exact amount of energy needed. So, naturally, he decided to do the opposite.
He found the main power conduit for the simulation, a thick river of glowing data. The test wanted him to carefully scoop out a small cup of that power.
Instead, Alex decided to redirect the entire river. He rewrote a few lines of code, creating a tiny, almost invisible "pipe" that connected the main power source directly to the little artifact.
For a moment, nothing happened. The artifact just sat there, glowing peacefully. Then, it started to pulse. The pulsing got faster and faster.
The calm voice from before said
"Warning," it said, its tone a little higher than before. "Energy levels exceeding normal parameters. Please reduce power."
Alex just leaned back in his chair, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Nope. I don't think I will."
A wave of red, corrupted data flooded Alex's vision as the artifact began to shake violently. The simulated city around him started to flicker.
Buildings turned into weird, blocky shapes. The sky turned a very unpleasant shade of purple.
The confused Aberrations suddenly stopped their circular dance and simply melted into puddles of digital goo.
"System integrity failing," the voice squeaked, now sounding genuinely panicked. "Catastrophic failure imminent. Evacuate. Evacuate. Evacu...."
The voice cut off as the entire simulation collapsed with a sound like a thousand windows breaking at once.
The world inside the pod went completely black. A few seconds later, the pod door hissed open, revealing a very confused and very stressed-looking proctor.
The man, a stern-faced instructor with a military-style haircut, stared at Alex, then at the smoking, blackened screen inside the pod.
He looked at his data tablet, his eyes widening in disbelief. He looked back at Alex, who gave him a small, innocent shrug.
All around them, other students were emerging from their pods, chattering excitedly about their high scores and cool moves.
The proctor just stood there, speechless, tapping at his tablet as if it had personally offended him.
He had never seen a score this low. It wasn't just a zero; it was a negative number. Alex hadn't just failed the test; he had broken it in a way the creators had never thought possible.
It was a complete and total system failure, but because it was a simulation, no one was hurt. It was the perfect crime.
After what felt like a very long, very awkward silence, the proctor cleared his throat. He looked at Alex with a mixture of pity and annoyance.
"Alex Vance," he said, his voice flat and tired. He took a deep breath, as if the next words pained him to say.
"By order of the Aegis Academy Assessment Committee, due to unprecedented and catastrophic system failure resulting in a score that technically qualifies as a debt, you have been assigned… Rank F."
A wave of whispers spread through the room. Heads turned to stare at Alex. F-Rank.
The lowest of the low. A rank reserved for the completely hopeless. It was a mark of shame, a sign that you had no business being at an academy for the gifted.
The other students looked at him with a mix of scorn and pity. Their dreams were of glory and power. His dream was of a quiet room and a simple job. As the proctor handed him his new, plain gray uniform, Alex couldn't help but smile.
Phase one of his plan was a spectacular success.