(Year-2278)
Nebulas realm—Megacity 1
"This world... it stopped being a place for the weak." ~Kieran Marcoth.
Orion, the celestial ruler, left, taking only a chosen few—those with pure hearts, unwavering faith.
They vanished in his light, ascending to paradise.
At least, that was what it looked like.
The rest? They were forsaken.
Left behind to suffer.
Even the ones born after.
That was the day everything changed.
The rifts—Realm Gates—tore open, unleashing horrors from the abyss. Monsters unlike anything humanity had ever seen. Beasts of nightmare and demons with endless hunger flooded the world.
Cities burned. Nations crumbled. Hope became nothing more than a whisper.
Bullets? Useless.
Tanks? Crushed like toys.
Bombs? The creatures walked through the flames.
It was as if humanity had stepped into a world ripped straight from fantasy.
But just when all seemed lost... something happened.
A spark.
A few humans began to change.
They awakened powers beyond reason. Strength that could shatter mountains. Speed that could outrun light. Magic that could shake the very heavens.
No one knew why.
No one knew how.
But it didn’t matter.
It was hope.
Orion had left, but in his absence, something was given in return—awakening.
And today, on his eighteenth birthday, Kieran Marcoth would find out if he had been given that gift.
His chance to rise.
His chance to break free from the chains of ridicule, of weakness, of being nothing.
Kieran walked the cracked stone path leading to the academy hall, hands shoved deep into his pockets. His raven-black hair cast shadows over his sharp, haunted eyes.
The air was heavy. Not just from the weight of the past, but from the unshakable tension of what lay ahead.
’It’s been years since that day... but it still haunts me.’
------
A memory flashed in his mind—the night when everything had changed for him.
The night was cold.
Unusually cold.
He stood facing a monster.
A hulking figure, crimson-red eyes filled with an intense bloodlust.
Its body was covered with thick, rocky scales.
Kieran’s eyes shook as he looked around him.
The entire outlands had been cleared.
The earth was soaked in blood.
And the sky wept to mourn the thousands who had died on the field.
All that was left was the little boy whimpering in the corner,
shivering in fear of what was to come.
Kieran looked around, confused.
Nowhere to run.
Even if he could, he knew that his noodle legs wouldn’t take him too far.
He could only watch hopelessly as the figure neared him.
But then, when all hope seemed to be lost...
The scary beast... its head suddenly rolled off its body.
That was the day he made a promise to himself.
-------
Kieran’s fingers curled into fists.
’I won’t stay weak. Not anymore. Today, everything changes.’
A familiar, mocking voice sliced through his thoughts.
"Well, look who it is—Kieran the useless!"
Laughter followed.
Kieran sighed, turning his head slightly. He didn’t even need to look.
Frank. Again.
His tormentor. His shadow. The entitled brat who hid behind his father’s influence like a shield.
Kieran finally glanced back, his expression unreadable.
His eyes met the blonde-haired boy, confirming his suspicion from earlier.
"Frank." His voice was calm, steady. "Still running your mouth? Let’s see how confident you are after awakening. Let’s see if your family’s name will still protect you from me."
Frank’s smirk twitched. His fingers curled into fists.
"You’ve got a big mouth for someone about to be humiliated." He motioned toward the two boys flanking him—his ever-present lackeys. "Take care of him."
The two stepped forward, cracking their knuckles.
Kieran exhaled through his nose.
’Outnumbered. Again. Typical.’
But he didn’t step back. Instead, he met Frank’s gaze, eyes like steel.
"Tell me, Frank," he said, voice laced with quiet amusement. "Do you ever fight your own battles? Or do you always need backup?"
Frank flinched.
"Shut up!" he snapped, his voice rising an octave. "Just get him!"
The lackeys tensed, ready to strike—
"Enough."
The word cut through the air like a blade.
Everyone froze.
A woman strode into view, her presence enough to make even Frank’s goons shrink back.
Jane Herley.
A teacher. A fighter. A healer.
And the only one who ever stood up for Kieran.
She took a slow drag from her cigarette, blowing a thin stream of smoke into the air before narrowing her sharp gaze at them.
"Ben. Jacob," she said coolly. "Didn’t you two already complete your awakening? What are you still doing on academy grounds?"
The boys exchanged nervous glances.
"Uh... we were just escorting our young master," Jacob muttered.
Jane’s eyes didn’t waver.
"Escort him out of here," she said flatly. "Now."
No hesitation. The two lackeys turned on their heels and bolted.
Frank, however, hesitated.
"And you," Jane continued, flicking ash from her cigarette. "How many times do I have to tell you? No bringing your family’s lackeys onto academy property."
Frank swallowed.
"It won’t happen again, Miss Jane. I promise."
He sent one last venomous glare at Kieran before stalking off.
Kieran sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Thanks, Miss Jane. You didn’t have to step in."
Jane smirked. "Didn’t I?"
She took another drag from her cigarette, exhaling lazily.
"You’ve got a big day ahead. No sense starting it with a broken nose."
Kieran’s lips curled into a wry smile.
"Big day, huh?" he muttered.
Jane’s expression softened.
"You’ll do fine, kid. Just go in there and claim your talent. Show them what you’re made of."
Kieran nodded.
"I will. And then I’ll—"
Jane flicked his forehead.
"No. You’ll use that talent to fight demons. Not settle scores."
Kieran grinned sheepishly.
"Right. Demons."
But deep down, his resolve burned.
’I’ll still deal with anyone who gets in my way.’
Jane chuckled, motioning toward the academy doors.
"Come on. They’ve already started. Let’s not keep them waiting."
Kieran followed her, his gaze lingering on her strong figure.
Jane was more than a teacher to him. More than a mentor.
She was the only one who had ever been there.
And one day... she wouldn’t have to protect him anymore.
He’d make sure of it.
The academy hall was packed.
Voices filled the air—nervous chatter, excited whispers.
"Did you hear? Hudson got an A-grade wind talent!"
"No way! That timid kid? Man, he’s untouchable now."
"Yeah, even the academy president pulled him aside."
Kieran tuned them out, eyes locked on the massive stone dais at the center of the room.
Jane leaned against the wall, giving him a reassuring thumbs-up.
"Don’t worry," she mouthed.
Kieran nodded.
The academy president stepped forward, clearing his throat.
"Kieran Marcoth."
Silence fell.
The crowd parted.
His name hung in the air, heavy, suffocating.
Kieran stepped forward, feeling every gaze, every whispered doubt, every expectation pressing down on him.
"Hey. It’s that boy who loves playing hero."
"Yeah, he’s good in a fight, but he always loses, haha."
"That’s just because Frank gangs up on him."
"Doesn’t matter. Let’s see if he awakens something good."
Kieran ignored them.
He wasn’t the strongest.
Not yet.
But Jane had taught him something important—stand up for the weak.
And he always did.
That was why they called him the Weak Hero.
He reached the dais.
The president gestured to the glowing orb.
"Place your hand on the orb," he instructed. "And let destiny take its course."
Kieran exhaled, steadying himself.
’This is it. My moment. My chance to change everything.’
He reached out—
His fingers touched the orb.
A blinding flash of light exploded through the room.
And everything changed.