The message blinked on the screen, too bright for the information it carried.


    [Power Assessment Complete.]


    [Ability Assessment Result: Pink.]


    [Classification: Extremely Unfit.]


    Eric stared at the screen. He blinked once. Then again, as if exhaustion alone could will the word into something else. When it didn’t, he exhaled, pressing his forehead against the train’s pole and silently chuckle.


    If luck was real, then he was definitely its repellent.


    Now that he thought about it, what the hell had he been expecting, walking into the Bureau? If the answer was "to see if I’m eligible to join the military," then he wasn’t just unlucky—he was also stupid.


    "Devil!"


    The crackhead shrieked for what felt like the thousandth time, jabbing a trembling finger at him. "You think no one sees? Hiding that evil with thy frail look?! Go back to hell, devil!"


    "Very convenient," Eric muttered.


    Once again, every damn eye in the transport was on him. Over a hundred people packed into the train, and yet the crackhead chose him. Screaming the same shit over and over again. At this point, he just had to accept that life was meant to suck.


    Now that he thought about it, he’d never heard of anyone getting a pink result.


    Green meant gifted—the most common classification. Those ranked green had powers ranging from mild telekinesis to heightened reflexes or enhanced combat skills. They got recruited into specialized jobs like the military, security, or the occasional elite contractor.


    Blue meant latent abilities. Then came Red, Silver, and Gold—the ones who either became public figures, got detained, or straight-up disappeared.


    Even Gray, the mark of complete mundanity would’ve been preferable.


    But Pink?


    Pink didn’t exist.


    "Did I just unlock a new level of weakness?" He huffed a quiet laugh. "Sad thing bad luck isn’t a power. I’d be glowing gold."


    The girl beside the dark haired lanky young man [Eric] in faded out clothes clutched her bag tighter and slowly pulled away.


    Another one gone afraid he was mad.


    Maybe if he laughed louder, they’d all move to the next cabin. But knowing his luck, they’d just call security on him instead of the crackhead.


    "Devil! You shouldn’t be here!" The shrieking escalated into something between a roar and a sob. "Go back to hell!"


    "Shut the fuck up…"


    Only when the train froze in place did he realize he’d said it out loud.


    His fists were clenched, pupils blown wide, his body hard with the kind of spilled frustration that made people throw punches.


    He sighed knowing he just messed up. Exhaled slow. Shut his eyes and waited.


    "You should be ashamed of yourself," a gnarly voice scolded. "Your mother should have scrubbed your filthy mouth with soap." An old lady snapped.


    More scolding. More judgment but he shut his ears against them.


    Just a few more minutes to his stop. He could do this.


    Shoulders slumped, he tried to float out of his own body, something he’d mastered as a kid. But today, it was impossible.


    So, finally, he gave up.


    Every day was a bad day. But today? Today was wearing the damn crown. All it needed was one more disaster to surpass that day eight years ago.


    He yawned, stretching—


    And then his phone buzzed violently in his hand.


    He wasn’t sure what he expected when his eyes drifted to the screen. Maybe an apology from the Bureau, claiming it was a glitch or offering him a second chance.


    But instead, there was a name.


    Kael.


    His breath caught.


    The train came to a stop, and he straightened. Pulse quickening, his thumb tapped the floating icon.


    Two words:


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Brother. Tomatoes.


    And his world stilled.


    Then, before he’d fully processed it, his body was already moving. He shoved past passengers, nearly knocking the crackhead to the ground, and ran.


    Two words that sent him sprinting all the way home.


    "Young people," the old woman muttered, settling back into her seat.


    The crackhead, who had been watching Eric go, suddenly tilted his head toward her. His mouth worked soundlessly before he whispered something unintelligible.


    The old woman frowned. "What?"


    Then, with a powerful squeal, the crackhead shrieked—


    "Witch! What are you doing here, witch?!"


    ***


    It had been three decades since the First Wake, yet Earth still suffered its aftermath. Which made sense, considering the destruction it left behind.


    Survivors who had witnessed it firsthand spoke of it in whispered tones. They whispered about the day the heavens wept fire, burning through cities, forests, and flesh alike.


    Buildings melted. Vegetation rotted. Those who didn’t die screaming suffocated under the swirling ash. Day turned to night as half the world vanished. The blackened sky choked out the sun, leaving only a dim red glow behind the smoke.


    And from the ashes, the Ashspawns emerged.


    Mindless husks, born from humans buried too deep beneath the ruin, they tore across distances for a drop of blood. Sickly pale and grotesquely muscular, they were fast, strong—unnaturally so, as though engineered rather than mutated.


    Weapons evolved to match them. Bullets designed to pierce their thickened hides and finally kill. But even then, everyone knew: humanity was on the brink of extinction.


    Yet from the same ashes, came the Ashborns.


    They were survivors of the First Wake who had inhaled just enough of its cursed ash, mutating in a different way. The harder their survival, the stronger but more uncontrollable they became.


    Where Ashspawns were mindless monsters, Ashborns were something else. Something worse. Neither wholly human nor fully monstrous, they walked the line between predator and survivor, their very existence a question no one wanted to answer. Or could.


    Some went rogue. Some disappeared before they had the chance.


    The rest,if they were deemed stable were ranked, trained, and stationed to fight the Ashspawns that still spread like a plague.


    Then, people started passing it down to their children.


    And soon enough, what was once a curse became a sought-after blessing. Parents lined up to have their children tested.


    ━━???━━


    But what the hell was pink?


    Eric’s breath came in ragged gasps as he sprinted home, sweat soaking through his shirt. He ignored the stares from the crumbling neighborhood around him. It didn’t matter.


    Brother. Tomatoes.


    Kael had first used it when she was nine. He was fourteen. It was their code.


    Get home. Now!


    And Kael never used it lightly.


    He slammed into the door, nearly tearing it off its rusted hinges as he burst inside—


    But that awful black smoke hit him first.


    He shut the door behind him. The house was silent and dim, except for the crackling coming from the kitchen.


    The kitchen— Fuck.


    “Kael!” He dashed in, yanking the tablecloth from the counter.


    The pot atop the stove was already bursting with flames.


    He killed the gas, shoved the thick fabric into the fire, and dragged it back, smothering the flames before they could spread.


    Another close call in the span of a week.


    His pulse was still hammering when the light caught his attention and he turned and finally saw her.


    Kael sat curled into the farthest corner of the kitchen, her arms wrapped around her knees, her body trembling and glowing. A glow that breathed like a pulse.


    She was bright enough to cast shadows against the walls, her head buried against her arms, whispering something just beneath the sound of her own whimpers.


    Something intelligible. But he knew better.


    Eric exhaled sharply. Of course she''d forgotten to take her pills. Of course she was spiralling again.


    Body relaxed, he walked over and sank down beside her, pressing close until their shoulders and knees touched.


    She was hot—burning, actually. But she’d burned him once, years ago, back in the orphanage. Since then, she never had.


    “You saw them again?” he murmured.


    She nodded.


    Eric stared up at the ceiling. “Did they try to grab you this time?”


    Another nod. More vigorous.


    His lips twitched, glancing down at her messy ponytail. Dark blue strands. Obviously styled by those trembling hands. He sighed lazily. “You didn’t tell them your brother’s gonna mess them up if they get too close?”


    Her shoulders shook a little. A half-sob, half laugh spilling from her lowered head.


    But her glow dimmed just a fraction.


    Eric’s chest loosened. Good.


    He ruffled her hair. “Alright, Glowstick. Off the floor before you start fusing with it.”


    Kael sniffled. Didn’t move.


    This one had been bad, then.


    Her body had stopped shaking, but her arms were still locked around her legs.


    So Eric leaned in. “You know,” he said lightly, “I did something stupid today.”


    Kael lifted her head then. Big, watery gray eyes peeking out from behind her knees. “You do something stupid every day.”


    “Fair, but this one’s extra stupid.”


    She paused, then softly as though testing waters, she asked, “How stupid?”


    He tilted his head toward the burnt remains of the pot. “I might’ve gone to the Bureau.”


    So for the next thirty quiet seconds he watched her make the calculations in her head.


    Kael froze. Her glow flickered. “You didn’t.”


    “Oh, but I did.” He placed a hand over his chest. “I walked in there like an absolute dumbass, thinking, ‘Hey, maybe today’s the day my bad luck turns around!’”


    She sniffled again, but a tiny smirk twitched at the corner of her lips.


    “And guess what happened?”


    “What?”


    He groaned. “I got pink.”


    Silence.


    Kael blinked at him. Waiting for the punchline. Then she let out the ugliest most unrestrained laughter he ever heard.


    She clutched her stomach, gasping between shrieks, her glow now sparking mildly.


    Eric''s stiff back relaxed against the wall again.


    “Wait! Pink?!” she managed to choke through her gasp. “That’s not even—that’s not even a thing!”


    "I know!” Eric threw up his hands. “Got tired of getting retested over and over again, had to take my L''s."


    Kael fell over with a thud, laughing so hard she wheezed, her glow flickering erratically as it dimmed. “You’re—snrk—you’re an undiscovered species of weak!”


    “They noticed. Said something about never coming back for a recheck.” He stood and offered his hand. She took it. “Guess I’m the first person to ever get banned from the Bureau.”


    Tears streamed down her cheeks as she pounded her fist weakly against his arm, still giggling. Eric just leaned back against the wall, letting her get it out of her system.


    If anyone deserved a laugh, it was her.


    She was still grinning as they walked to her room. Within ten minutes, he had her tucked in, the last of her pills in her system, listening to her mumble soft, sleepy nonsense until her breathing evened out.


    But just before she drifted under...


    “Eric?”


    “Hm?”


    A pause.


    “I’m glad you got pink.”


    Of course she was. She was gone before he could reply. Not like he had one.


    So in the silence of their crumbling home, Eric sat on her couch, staring at the Bureau’s damning message, fingers hovering over the thrash icon.


    She''d laughed and stopped glowing.


    He sighed and deleted it.


    And honestly?


    That was worth getting pink for.