Leon sat at their small wooden table, absently stirring a bowl of watery soup. The broth was barely seasoned, with a few scraps of carrot and potato floating aimlessly. He tried not to think about how many nights in a row they'd eaten the same thing.
Across from him, his younger brother Kai was tearing into a meat-filled stew, his appetite fierce after a long day. Unlike Leon's bowl, Kai's meal had flavor—real ingredients. More meat than broth.
Leon made sure of that. Always.
"We ran a mock raid on an C-rank dungeon today." Kai said between mouthfuls, his voice laced with that confident energy only a teenager full of potential could have. "I solo-cleared the boss room. Fastest time in the class."
He leaned back, clearly proud of himself. "Instructor Havel said if I keep this up, I could hit B-rank officially by next term."
Leon smiled—small, but sincere. "That's amazing, Kai. You're really moving fast."
He meant it. His brother deserved the praise.
But behind his smile, something twisted deep in his chest. Not envy, but something quieter. More bitter.
Frustration.
Because at this rate, it wouldn't be long before the world saw Leon not as Kai's older brother, but as the one being protected by him.
Two years ago, both of their parents were killed. A monster attack—something that wasn't even rare anymore, especially out near the outer zones where safety regulations were weaker and security was patchy. Their parents had been working a transport job, hauling goods from one city sector to another. They were caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.
There was no dramatic farewell. No meaningful goodbye. Just a short report from the city guards, a formal condolence notice, and the key to a now-empty apartment.
Leon had been fifteen then. Kai was twelve.
Now Kai was fourteen—taller, stronger, and a hell of a lot more dangerous in combat than most adults.
He was one of the top students at the local Awakening Academy, a school dedicated to training individuals who had developed supernatural abilities.
Leon had done everything he could to raise him, to make sure he didn't feel the weight of their loss too early. He worked odd jobs, skipped meals, lied about being full—just to keep Kai healthy and fed.
And Kai had rewarded that effort by becoming someone remarkable.
Someone the world noticed.
Leon, on the other hand...
He never made it past F-rank.
In this world, power wasn't just respected—it was measured. Ranks determined everything: where you could work, where you could live, how people looked at you.
Only one in ten people awaken, and even fewer with high potential.
After someone awakened—usually sometime between ten and sixteen—their potential was evaluated using standardized assessment devices: complex machines that scanned mana capacity, physical strength, and things like abnormalities.
F-rank meant you were barely above an unawakened civilian.
SSS-rank meant elite. Someone governments paid attention to. The kind of person who could help turn the tide of wars.
There were also supposedly ranks above them, but Leon never heard of them.
Kai was already pushing toward high B-rank at fourteen.
Leon? The moment he awakened, the scanner spat out numbers that barely registered.
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Combat Power: 4
Rank: F-
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They ran the scan multiple times. The results never changed.
Even untrained adults usually scored at least 5s or 6s. Farmers. Laborers. Civilians.
Leon scored lower than a baker.
The only anomaly was a vague note on his scan results:
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"Unusual adaptability pattern detected—potential latent trait. No immediate function confirmed."
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No one knew what it meant.
And no one cared to find out.
The Academy he had once worked so hard to get into—the same one Kai now thrived in—expelled him within a week of those results.
Headmaster Silar hadn't even pretended to sugarcoat it.
"You're intelligent, Leon. Your theoretical exams were excellent. But training resources are limited. We need to prioritize students with measurable combat potential. I'm sorry."
Leon had packed his things in silence.
He didn't argue. What would have been the point?
That same week, Kai had been accepted—with honors. The instructors were already calling him a prodigy with at least A-Rank potential.
"Hey." Kai's voice broke the silence. He'd finished eating, leaning forward now with a slightly furrowed brow. "You're zoning out again."
Leon blinked. "Sorry. Just tired."
Kai didn't look convinced. He stared at his brother, arms folded. Fourteen now, and the innocence was fading from his features. He was lean but strong—his black hair streaked with bold crimson lines. His eyes, vivid red with black circular patterns, marked him as something unique among the civilian Awakened.
"Bro..." Kai said, softer now. "I know what people say about you. What they say to me. That I should focus on myself. That you're just holding me back."
Leon's expression didn't change. "They're not wron-."
"Yes." Kai said bluntly, "They are!"
Leon looked up, surprised at the force in his voice.
"I'm here because of you. Everything I am is because you kept me alive. Fed me. Took care of me when no one else did. I don't care what a scan says. You're my brother."
Leon said nothing.
He couldn't.
He just nodded slowly and looked down into his bowl, the soup long gone cold.
That night, after Kai had gone to bed, Leon stepped onto their tiny apartment balcony. The cool air nipped at his skin. Down below, the streets of the Lower District glowed in dim orange light, flickering from faulty lantern poles and old mana lines.
He stared at the sky. Quiet. Empty.
'What am I even supposed to do anymore?'
He trained for years. Tried to compensate. He had no talent, but he showed up. He worked hard. He fought through the pain.
Nothing ever changed.
Sure, perhaps he got one or two points in Physique?
Someone like Kai would get that just by swinging his sword a couple of times.
The only thing remotely unusual about his evaluation—this so-called "adaptive pattern"—never did anything. No effect. No breakthrough. Just a throwaway line no one could explain.
He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself.
And then—
Something stirred.
Not around him.
Inside him.
A strange chill crawled up his spine, subtle but undeniable. Like pressure building behind a closed door.
Then it disappeared as fast as it came.
But something had changed.
He could feel it.
He could feel a connection between him and the wooden ground he was standing on, between him and the metal pole he was leaning on.
He could feel it.
'Whats going on..?' he thought to himself
then suddenly he remembered what that scan years ago said
'Unusual adaptability pattern detected—potential latent trait. No immediate function confirmed.'
'could it be...?'
'it awakened?' he asked as he clutched his right hand
The next morning, once Kai left for training, Leon stood alone in their living room. Sunlight filtered through the cracked blinds. In one corner leaned his old wooden training sword, scarred and worn from years of effort.
He picked it up.
It felt… different. Familiar, but clearer. More balanced in his grip.
He stepped into his stance.
Feet shoulder-width apart. Knees bent. Arms relaxed.
He swung.
Once.
Twice.
Then again.
Each movement felt sharper than the last. Not faster—cleaner. His posture corrected itself mid-motion. His weight shifted more naturally. He wasn't thinking about adjustments. His body just... knew.
Like it had watched itself fail for years—and had finally started learning.
"…Adaptability…" he murmured.
Maybe it hadn't been useless after all.
Maybe it had just needed time.
Leon stood there, breathing lightly, the sword resting at his side.
For the first time in years, he didn't feel stuck.
He felt like something had begun.
Not a miracle. Not a power surge.
Just a shift.
Small, but noticeable.
And sometimes, a spark was all it took to light a fire.