Life didn't get much easier after high school.

  People always said school was supposed to be the best years of your life. If that was true, I felt sorry for everyone else.

  I never fit in. I wasn’t dumb—far from it—but I didn’t think like the others. Teachers mistook my silence for disinterest. Students called me “muscle-brain” behind my back. Some said it to my face. The truth was simpler: the things they cared about just didn’t matter to me.

  Tests, prom, clubs. Even sports. I could’ve joined the wrestling team and wiped the floor with everyone there. But I didn’t. I didn’t need validation from boys who still thought strength came from weightlifting.

  While they played video games and gossiped in locker rooms, I spent my nights downstairs—moving through silent forms, sharpening my breath, feeling for qi. It was still faint. Still small. But it was mine, and that was enough.

  After graduation, everyone asked the same question: Where are you going next? College? A trade? Something, anything?

  I told them I needed time to figure things out.

  David nodded like he understood. But one night, he pulled me aside. “You’re strong, Blue. That’s not something to be ashamed of. Ever think about joining an MMA gym? Just for the discipline, maybe? Could be good for you.”

  I thanked him, but I never went. What would I even learn there? What could a cage teach me that death hadn’t?

  Instead, I took up part-time jobs. Grocery store stocker. Warehouse runner. Delivery boy. Places where I could move, lift, disappear into the noise.

  Every paycheck went to savings. Every night ended in the basement. Same breathing. Same fire behind my ribs.

  The day I turned twenty, it happened. The same monsters I had seen in my dreams. The same chaos. The same red eyes and jagged teeth.

  Cities burned. Highways collapsed. Families ran through the streets as the sky split open and gates tore into the world. Dimensional rifts bled creatures that didn’t belong—abominations with bone armor and molten breath.

  The media called it “The Awakening.” And just like that, Earth changed forever.

  The System revealed itself to the world. Not through dreams, but screens. Interfaces. Stats. People began awakening—gaining powers never before seen. Mana. Aether. Flux. Spirit. They weren’t martial artists. But they became something else entirely.

  Hunters. Rankers. Gate divers. And for the first time, Earth fought back.

  Guilds formed overnight. City governments collapsed under the weight of their influence. The United Nations assembled what remained of the world's leaders and birthed the Awakened Association, a global body tasked with monitoring awakened individuals and maintaining some semblance of control.

  Behind closed doors, though, their job was simpler: keep the guilds from gaining too much power. To keep the world from falling into another war.

  The gates weren’t all the same. Red ones brought death. But two golden gates appeared—one in Seoul, the other in Paris.

  Unlike the others, these gates didn’t bring monsters. They led to other worlds. Entire civilizations on the other side. Most of the world fixated on the red gates—because they brought death. But those who paid attention knew the real secret wasn’t in the horror. It was in the gold.

  They shimmered like starlight, humming with a warmth that pulled at the soul. Unlike the red gates, they didn’t pulse with hatred or bleed corruption.

  Instead, they sang…softly, like a memory long buried.

  Golden gates didn’t unleash monsters. They offered passage. But only to a chosen few.

  The Association called them Resonants…individuals whose inner energy aligned with the frequency of the gate. Less than one in a million even qualified. For those who did… they vanished from Earth and stepped into entirely different worlds.

  The Seoul gate led to Thalorin—a realm of spirits, druids, and wild beasts. A place of towering groves, whispering winds, and living mountains. Beings who spoke not with words, but presence.

  The Paris gate connected to Nytherra, a kingdom of arcane might, floating spires, ancient tomes, and magic woven into every breath. Mana flowed like blood, knowledge carved reality itself. A world straight from fantasy novels and manwha pages.

  Entry wasn’t free.

  The Association stationed rift-walkers—licensed awakened individuals capable of opening stable paths—at each major guild and city worldwide. Airports were too dangerous. The skies, littered with flying beasts. Travel was regulated. Restricted. You needed approval. Status. Power.

  And Eve had it.

  The evening started like most others.

  I got off my shift bagging groceries, met Eve at the pizza parlor down the block—same booth, same two slices, same quiet rhythm we’d fallen into over the years. Then we headed home. Down to the basement. My sanctuary. Tonight, though, things would be different.

  I sat cross-legged in the center of the room, shirt clinging to my back from the walk. The air was still. Familiar. The wooden dummy David built stood in its corner. The old mats Mary bought lined the floor. Sacred. This was the space where past and present blurred.

  I closed my eyes. Drew in a breath. Focused. Visualized the meridians. Pulled the qi inward. Guided it to the dantian. Slower. Deeper.

  I was just beginning to feel the faint stirrings…like a whisper of warmth in my core when Eve gasped.

  My eyes snapped open. She stood frozen by the door, wrapped in golden light.

  “What’s happening?” she whispered. “Something… popped up. A blue box. The System. It says something about… choosing a path.”

  I didn’t respond right away. That word—System. The thing that had whispered to me in dreams, the thing that said I wasn’t where I belonged… it hadn’t spoken since the gates appeared two years ago. And now… it was here. But not for me. For her.

  Her eyes darted through invisible prompts. Hands moved through nothing I could see. Then one word: “Spirit.”

  The golden hue pulsed, then faded into her skin. She looked stunned…then overjoyed.

  “I awakened!” she whispered.

  I forced a smile. “That’s… incredible.”

  It was. But it wasn’t for me.

  She ran to me, nearly knocking me over. “Blue! I awakened! I awakened!”

  Her voice shook. Her eyes gleamed. She didn’t know what it meant yet…not fully. But I did. I’d seen what awakeners became. Hunters. Heroes. Protectors.

  “You always said I’d be strong one day,” she whispered.

  I nodded. Gently. “You will be.”

  We celebrated that night. Shared leftover pizza. Watched old cartoons. Talked about what her ability might be. She didn’t notice the quiet edge to my smile. The weight pressing against my chest like a dull blade. No matter how much I trained—I hadn’t awakened. Not by Earth’s terms. And the System, the one I thought was waiting for me, chose her instead.

  The next morning, we headed to the Association building in downtown Columbus. Hunters filed in and out, flashing badges, shouldering massive weapons, laughing like gods among men. Eve looked so small next to them. But she held her head high. The registration staff confirmed her class: Spirit User. High compatibility. Rare affinity. They smiled like they were looking at a future star. I stood in the back. Watching. Silent.

  She turned once to look for me. I waved. She beamed. I didn’t need the spotlight. I’d lived that life before. But seeing them look at her—like she was a gift from heaven—still stung.

  A month later, she showed up at the pizza place holding a white envelope. She didn’t sit. Just stood there, grinning like a kid with a secret.

  “They chose me,” she said.

  I blinked. “Who?”

  “The Buckeye Guild.” She slid the letter across the table. I opened it.

  Official sponsorship. Travel approval. Gate authorization. “They want me to represent them… in Thalorin.”

  My breath caught. Seoul. That’s where the golden gate was. One of only two on Earth.

  “You’re… leaving?” I asked.

  She nodded. “I have to.”

  We sat in silence for a moment.

  Then she chuckled. “When I get back…” Her eyes met mine. “I’ll be stronger than you.”

  She meant it as a joke. A promise. But it still sank like a stone in my gut.

  “Good luck.”

  I smiled anyway. But inside, something twisted—a quiet fire that had nothing to do with the Basements, the qi, the training. It was the taste of being left behind, of watching someone else step into what I had trained for all these years.