Date: March 3rd, Year 20 A.A. (After Awakening)
Twenty years have passed since the towers rose like black spires into our skies, and the monsters came pouring out like nightmares.
The world broke... and began to reshape itself.
People with powers began to emerge, one by one. Chosen. Blessed. They called it the "Gift of the Angels." And whether it was real divinity or something else entirely, the result was the same—humans who were no longer just human.
Healers who could mend shattered bodies with a touch. Warriors who could split the earth with their fists. Elementalists who danced through storms and flames like they were born from them.
They walk among us now—worshipped, feared, glorified.
Saviors. Gods.
But not me.
I'm still... me.
Just Rover Cheon. No gift. No power. No angel ever came to whisper in my dreams. I never woke up glowing. Never felt that surge of something more.
I'm already 25 years old now. I swore I'd get stronger. Swore I'd find the beast that took my mother's life—and the soldier who sacrificed himself for me.
And yet… here I am.
Still powerless. Still broken. Still nothing.
I train. Every day. Every night. I beat my body down, push myself to the brink just to feel like I'm moving forward.
And yet—I can't even kill a single goblin.
And I'm still talking about revenge? Who am I kidding?
I hate this pitiful world.
What did I ever do to deserve this?
What did my mother do?
What did that soldier do—just to die in my place?
And for what?
(He cries, silently.)
I walk through these crowded streets—head down, hands in my pockets—as the world burns bright around me.
A woman lights a cigarette with a flame blooming from her fingertips.
A man walks calmly through a thunderstorm, the rain parting around him like he's Moses in jeans.
And me?
I'm just a shadow.
A leftover from the old world.
A bystander in someone else's destiny.
Sometimes I wonder...
Was I passed over?
Forgotten?
Or is the world just crueler than we ever imagined?
If this is fate… then I must've been born outside of it.
But I can't accept it.
No matter how many times I tell myself to move on, to accept my place in the world… I can't.
I never awakened.
Not once. Not even a flicker.
No dream.
No angel.
Nothing.
And yet… I see kids—barely old enough to speak—suddenly summoning fire, lifting cars like toys, shaping the elements like playthings. Children blessed by something beyond us while I'm here... barely scraping through life.
There's no logic to it. No fairness.
Just chaos wearing the mask of destiny.
And I don't even get to experience school life.
Everyone I see my age is in college now—learning, fighting, rising. Blessed by the so-called Angel.
And every time I pass by a campus... they whisper.
They laugh.
They call me a reject.
I can't even enter a school. Can't learn. Can't grow.
I live in the streets now.
Sleep anywhere there's space. Anywhere no one will chase me away.
People pass me sometimes.
They see me.
They laugh.
I smile. I survive.
But inside?
I'm rotting.
They call us the Unmarked.
Powerless. Useless. Trash.
And I'm starting to believe them.
Because how can someone who's never been chosen...
ever matter in a world like this?
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To be continue....