The morning sun bled through the grime of the kitchen window, casting long, amber streaks across the stack of soapy plates. Atlan wiped his brow with the back of a damp hand, his eyes fixed on the clock ticking relentlessly on the wall.
"Hey, are you done with the dishes?" Atlan called out, his voice echoing slightly in the cramped, quiet apartment.
From the doorway, a younger voice drifted in, tinged with the casual, practiced laziness of a teenager trying to hide his own nerves. "Almost done, bro."
At eighteen, Atlan carried a weight that few his age understood. He was lean, his frame hardened by two years of grueling hours at the store. His face still bore the faint traces of youth, but his eyes—dark and weary—belonged to a boy who had forgotten how to act his age,a man. Across from him stood Ander, his younger brother by two years. They were a duo forged in tragedy, bound by a shared loss. Two years prior, their parents had departed for a honeymoon from which they never returned. The actual cause of death was never revealed,all the boys knew was that all they had left were each other. Atlan traded his childhood for the register just to keep a roof over their heads and food in Ander's stomach. Today things might just change even if only a little, today was the first day of the Mana Evaluation Test for 2026.16 was the minimum age for taking the test. It was the age of the Mana Evaluation, the moment when the normies would be separated from the coveted Walkers. To be a Walker was to be awakened, to possess the internal spark that allowed one to traverse the gates to other worlds and claim the riches within. Atlan had missed his window at sixteen, anchored by grief and the sudden, sharp necessity of survival. More than that, he had waited. He had refused to take the test alone. Their dreams had fused over the years; Atlan's childhood passion for the gates and supernatural had rubbed off on his younger brother until it became the singular north star for them both.
"Hey, we want to make it out there as quickly as possible," Atlan said, his pacing increasing as he watched Ander slowly dry the last of the cutlery. "Today's the opening day. It's only going to last a week as usual. What's with the holdup? Let's get going already!"
Ander rolled his eyes, though a small, nervous smile tugged at his lips. "Oh, come on, don't rush me. It's two years too late for you to still be this ecstatic. Come on."
"Whatever, just hurry up," Atlan shot back, though there was no heat in it.
He turned to the window, watching the city stir into life. It's been a wild two years, he thought, his reflection in the glass looking back at him with a ghost of a grin. Working at the store... now I can finally chase my own dreams. The pay is sure to be juicy so we can do a lot of things we didn't get to do. Enjoy holidays and stuff—the usual things boys our age enjoyed.
He took a deep breath, the scent of cheap dish soap suddenly smelling like the promise of a new life. "It's going to be a whole new chapter for us," he let out, a soft whisper intended only for himself.
"I'm all set," Ander announced, tossing the towel aside and grabbing his jacket.
The journey to the Union for Awakeners (UA) Headquarters was a blur of high-speed transit lines and muffled anticipation. The UA HQ was a monolith of glass and reinforced steel, a fortress of destiny that stood as the only evaluation site in the country. It loomed over the skyline, a literal needle threading the clouds.
As they rounded the final corner, the brothers skidded to a halt. The crowd was a tidal wave of nervous energy stretching blocks away from the main gates.
"Wow," Ander breathed, his eyes wide as he took in the scale of the gathering. "Despite how early we left home, there's still a lot of people who made it out here before us."
Atlan sighed, adjusting the collar of his worn jacket. "Well, maybe if someone hurried up a bit, we could have made it a lot sooner."
They were directed by stern-faced guards toward the tail end of a line that seemed to move with the speed of a glacier. Now that they were here, the adrenaline had nowhere to go. It curdled into a cold, buzzing anxiety in the pit of Atlan's stomach. He looked around, spotting kids their age, but he was struck by the sight of older people—not just young adults, but 'adult adults,' their faces lined with the desperation of a last-ditch effort at a better life.
A rush of thrill consumed Atlan. This is it, he thought, his pulse drumming in his ears. I waited all these months for this. I can finally become a Walker. Now I just have to hope I awaken an elite talent and get scouted by an elite guild. His mind raced into a future of mansions, high-tier armor, and glory. Woah, woah, woah... I'm thinking way too ahead. I have to take it one step at a time. Then, a darker thought crept in, worse yet... what if Ander doesn't awaken something just as cool? Wait, what if he doesn't awaken at all?
He shook his head, trying to disperse the fear. Most people tend to awaken. Statistics have it that eight in ten people awaken when they take the test, so it's not like the odds are against him. Oh, all this thinking... this is definitely killing the mood.
"Hey, Atlan, chill," Ander said, noticing his brother's white-knuckled grip on his own sleeves. "Don't go overthinking like usual. It's a test, and we'll ace it like we would a written test."
Atlan managed a dry, shaky chuckle. "Look at you, sounding all confident. You do know that's not how this works, right? This is not the same thing as algebra."
"I know, I know," Ander grinned, bumping his shoulder against Atlan's. "I just wanted to ease you a bit."
"I know you did," Atlan said, his posture finally relaxing. "And it seems it worked. This is going to go great for us." He declared it loudly, a verbal charm to ward off the darkness, affirming to himself that their struggle was finally over.
Hours bled into a singular, grueling wait until they finally reached the threshold of the building. The candidates were led into the bowels of the HQ—the basement. It was a sterile, high-tech cavern dominated by the God-Meter, a towering crystalline pillar that hummed with a low, primal frequency that vibrated in the marrow of Atlan's bones.
The process was cold and efficient. You placed your hand on the meter, your rank and talent were announced to the room by an automated system, and the UA recorded it. Once the results hit the web, the top guilds would descend like hawks on the promising new talent.
"Next," a man at the basement door said, his voice echoing off the metallic walls.
It was Ander's turn. Atlan gave his brother a firm nod, his heart swelling with a strange mix of pride and envy.
"Okay, put your hand on the God-meter so we can take your readings," a lady said over the microphone from a glass-encased booth. Her voice was surprisingly gentle amidst the mechanical whirring of the room.
Ander stepped forward, his small frame dwarfed by the glowing pillar. He reached out and pressed his palm against the cold, translucent surface. Immediately, the room erupted in a rhythmic, golden chime.
[SUBJECT 0001720: AWAKENING CONFIRMED.]
[SUBJECT CLASS: MAGE.]
[TALENTS: UNSPECIFIED.]
[SKILLS: TO BE NURTURED.]
[RANK...]
Ander's heart began beating faster than it ever had. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears. None of everything they've said matters, he thought frantically. Your talents all depend on your level of awakening, your rank... your rank is everything. It felt like an eternity as the system processed his mana signature. It's bad enough I didn't get my talents revealed... oh no, this is bad, he whispered to himself.
Then, the system spoke with a clarity that silenced the entire room.
[RANK AWAKENING: S-CLASS.]
The silence that followed lasted only a fraction of a second before the recording booth exploded in motion. The woman behind the glass jumped up, screaming in shock and hugging a bewildered co-worker.
Ander's legs gave out. He fell to his knees in tears, his hands trembling as they left the meter. "I... I made it? I'm an S-Rank? Me?"
He was still sobbing when the guards, their faces now filled with newfound respect, gently escorted him toward the exit. They handed him a card—a pass to the orientation room reserved for those who awakened.
"Next," the man at the entrance said, snapping Atlan out of his reverie.
Atlan stepped forward, his stride confident, almost bouncy. The attendants took his name, their eyes still wide and wandering toward the door Ander had just exited.
"Okay, you're Atlan Elza," the lady said, her voice trembling with residual excitement. "Are you by any chance related to the young man who entered just now?"
"Well, yes," Atlan responded, his chest puffed out. "He is, in fact, my younger brother."
"Okay, wow. That's good. Please, put your hands on the meter," she replied, offering him a small, encouraging smile.
As he stepped up to the crystal, the lady leaned toward her mic, unable to contain the news. "Your brother awakened as an S-Rank class."
Atlan let out a triumphant scream of joy, a release of two years of suppressed hope. He slammed his hand onto the God-Meter, waiting for the g light, waiting for the chime that would unite him with his brother in the ranks of the elite.
The machine hummed. A low, dull red light flickered at the base of the pillar.
[SUBJECT 0001721: FAILED TO AWAKEN.]
The world stopped. The air in the room seemed to vanish, leaving Atlan gasping in a vacuum. The joy on his face curdled, freezing into a mask of pure, unadulterated horror. His hand remained glued to the cold stone, waiting for a correction, waiting for a joke that wasn't coming.
"What?" he let out, despair clearly filled in his voice.