The rain never stopped in Sector 7.
Thick clouds blanketed Tokyo's skyline like an eternal bruise, and the sky wept onto the glimmering steel bones of the city. Neon signs buzzed quietly through the downpour, their lights bending and blurring through the streams of water sliding down glass towers. The streets below bustled with umbrellas and drenched uniforms, steam curling up from storm-soaked vents. Everything was gray—steel, sky, concrete—except for the eyes of the students passing by, each flickering with anticipation.
Except for one.
Riku Hayashi walked silently beneath the awning of a corner market, backpack slung loosely over one shoulder. His uniform clung to him in places where the rain had found cracks in his cheap umbrella. His shoes squeaked every few steps. The wind was colder this morning. Storms always made the Rift Zones louder.
He paused as a city bus sped past, spraying the sidewalk with water. A billboard flashed above, displaying footage of S Rank warriors standing atop a shattered bridge, beams of radiant Essence swirling around them. Another triumph. Another Beast slain. Another reminder.
Riku turned away.
Essence Academy—Sector 7 Branch—stood tall behind the storm, its massive obsidian walls stretching several stories high. Rows of students filtered through the gates in lines, monitored by security drones and watchful instructors. Some students joked, others compared Essence types and energy cores. Riku moved through them like a shadow, nodding occasionally but speaking to no one.
"Yo, you're late again, Hayashi."
Riku turned as Kazuto Mori approached, his dark hair slicked back, eyes like cut steel beneath a hood. His expression was unreadable—always was—but his presence had a strange calm to it, like a storm held inside glass.
"Didn't feel like running in the rain," Riku said quietly.
"You never feel like doing anything," Kazuto replied, though there was no real bite in it.
They walked side by side through the gates, weaving through puddles. Ahead, Yumi Aoyama was surrounded by a group of second-years, laughing as she summoned a faint glow in her palm—a warm pink light. Healing Essence. Even minor displays earned attention here.
She waved at Riku. "Morning, slowpoke!"
He gave a half-hearted wave back.
"Still no Essence?" someone muttered from behind them.
"His whole family's probably D Rank. If that."
"Just drop out, Hayashi. You're wasting space."
Riku said nothing. He'd heard it all before.
Inside the Academy halls, polished black tile reflected the flicker of Essence torches along the walls. Despite the high-tech sheen, the atmosphere was tense. Even among 12 and 13-year-olds, reputation mattered. Clan names, Essence affinity, combat potential. It was all anyone cared about.
Riku didn't have any of it.
No clan. No Essence. No expectations.
Only his mother's worn-out smile and his sister's hopeful eyes waiting back home in their cramped apartment near the Rift perimeter.
As they filed into the classroom, their homeroom instructor, Mr. Tsuda, stood by the board, arms folded.
"Take your seats. Attendance starts now. Mid-year assessments are approaching. Remember—Essence doesn't wait for the weak."
Riku sat by the window, raindrops streaking down the glass beside him. Outside, the city pulsed with lights. Drones zipped past in pairs. A distant siren echoed.
Across the room, Toru Kurotaki leaned back in his seat, tossing a pen between his fingers. The Kurotaki clan—S Rank royalty. He glanced at Riku, sneering slightly, but didn't speak. Not yet.
Mr. Tsuda continued. "You are the next generation. Whether or not you've awakened doesn't change the fact that your lives will be shaped by the Rift. You will fight Beasts. You will face Villains. And most of you… won't survive."
The room went quiet.
Riku didn't flinch. He stared out the window, watching the skyline flicker like dying stars. Somewhere beyond those clouds was the Rift. Somewhere beyond those walls was a world that didn't care whether he had power or not.
But he was here.
He had made it through the gate.
And that… was enough.
For now.