《The Awakened》


 The End and the Beginning

    France, Paris, May 17th, 1918


    The night was filled with shouts and the echo of hurried footsteps on cobblestone streets. The bridge over the Seine was swallowed in shadows, illuminated only by the pale light of the moon reflecting off the river¡¯s still surface. The wind carried a chilling edge, as if the air itself anticipated the tragedy about to unfold.


    A man ran forward, gasping for breath, his coat flapping behind him like the wings of a broken bird. He glanced over his shoulder every few moments, his eyes filled with both terror and determination. The sound of footsteps echoed behind him, louder and closer with every second.


    The bridge was empty except for him and his pursuers. He had nowhere left to run.


    Suddenly, his foot caught on an uneven stone. He fell to his knees, his hands scraping against the cold cobblestones, leaving red streaks in their wake. He tried to rise, but it was too late. Before he could take another step, two men caught up to him, grabbing his arms and holding him in place on either side.


    ¡°Let me go!¡± he screamed desperately, struggling like a trapped animal.


    From the shadows emerged another figure. A man of medium height with cold eyes and impeccably groomed mustaches, dressed in an elegant coat, approached slowly, almost ceremonially. In his hand, he held a gleaming saber, its blade catching the moonlight.


    ¡°Forgive me, brother,¡± the leader said, his tone calm and almost warm. ¡°Your sacrifice will not be in vain.¡±


    The captive man shuddered, his gaze burning with fury.


    ¡°I hate you!¡± he spat. ¡°You took everything from me. Everyone I ever loved!¡±


    The leader sighed, his expression tinged with sorrow, though his eyes remained devoid of mercy.


    ¡°This had to happen,¡± he said quietly, as if speaking more to himself than to his brother. ¡°For the balance to be preserved.¡±If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    The captive man made one last attempt to break free, but the saber flashed through the air. With a single, fluid motion, the leader slit his throat.


    The body slumped, lifeless, as blood spilled onto the stones of the bridge. The sound of it dripping onto the cobblestones echoed in the emptiness of the night.


    ¡°Into the Seine,¡± the leader commanded coldly, averting his gaze.


    Before the body hit the water, the man¡¯s final thoughts echoed like a faint lament:


    ¡°I will never forgive you. I curse you and your descendants. Let every drop of your blood bear this price. Let them all watch their loved ones die, as I did. Let them feel what I felt... for eternity.¡±


    The Seine embraced the body in its icy grasp, the surface of the water closing over it like a shroud.


    And then¡­ light erupted.


    A blinding white light burst across the scene, consuming every shadow, every corner of darkness. It was so intense that it seemed to dissolve even time itself. The shadows disappeared, the cobblestones faded from view, and the Seine¡¯s waters became perfectly still, as if the world had frozen in that one moment.


    From within the light came a grinding sound¡ªa deep, resonant noise, as though the very fabric of reality was tearing under the weight of something foreign.


    The Seine began to churn, its waters boiling, while the air was filled with an otherworldly roar. Above the bridge, where the body had vanished, a rift appeared¡ªirregular and pulsating, its edges crackling with white fire. The rift was like nothing that belonged to this world.


    The first shadow emerged from the breach. Long, elongated, and nightmarish, it resembled a dragon torn from the depths of a nightmare. Others followed, their forms covered in scales, horns, and wings¡ªshapes that defied the laws of existence.


    The bridge trembled under their weight, and Paris heard, for the first time, the roar of creatures from another dimension.


    And so, a brother killed his brother, as Cain killed Abel. But this time, the crime carried more than the weight of a single life. It was an act of destiny, a brutal mark of forces that knew no mercy. It was an act that tore open the gate between worlds. With this death in the Seine, it was not just a life that ended¡ªa curse was born, one that would ripple like a dark tide across generations.


    The curse, born of blood and fury, found its fulfillment that night. It was the moment the Earth lost its innocence, and the quiet song of the Seine became the prelude to chaos.


    In that moment, the world was forever changed.

 Izak Pilsudski

    I¡¯m having that dream again. The same one. I¡¯m a child, standing frozen as my father looms before me, his back turned. There¡¯s a massive hole in his chest, revealing the silhouette of a woman¡ªshe¡¯s the one responsible for all of this. Me? I¡¯m drenched in blood. My legs refuse to move.


    My father starts to speak:


    ¡°Don¡¯t cause trouble. Live a quiet life, alright?¡±


    I want to talk to him, to ask about the woman. Who is she? But I can¡¯t. The only words I manage to say are:


    ¡°Alright, father. I promise.¡±


    Then, his voice turns to incomprehensible murmurs, and something else cuts through the noise.


    The sound of my third alarm clock.


    Once again, it pulls me back right before the nightmare¡¯s climax. I wake up with tears in my eyes. Once again, I¡¯ve learned nothing. Why does this dream keep haunting me? Why did my father have to die? Thinking about it won¡¯t change anything now.


    Wait. What was that noise? Oh, right. My alarm clock!


    I spring out of bed with a single goal: don¡¯t be late.


    Poland, Rzeszow, June 8th, 2137


    But of course, I¡¯m going to be late for history class. Classic me.


    My computer? Still on. My game? Leveling itself. Breakfast? Not happening¡ªmy history teacher would straight-up murder me if I showed up late again.


    ¡°Shit! I¡¯m gonna be late!¡± I yell to no one in particular.


    My name¡¯s Izak Pilsudski. I¡¯m 17 years old, a first-year high school student, and¡ªyeah¡ªdescendant of that Jozef Pilsudski (a national hero who played a key role in Poland¡¯s independence after World War I). But right now, none of that matters. What matters is that I¡¯m sprinting like my life depends on it, trying to catch a train that¡¯s already pulling out of the station.


    I start running, but, as usual, this godforsaken city has me jumping through hoops¡ªdetours, construction sites, bridges. Rzesz¨®w is a maze of obstacles.


    That¡¯s why I always take the rooftops.


    One jump. Another jump. And one more.


    This is my thing¡ªI¡¯m damn good at it.


    I spot the train I missed earlier. My last chance. If I don¡¯t catch it, I¡¯m dead meat.


    As usual, I ask myself two questions:


    Why do I always have history first period?


    And why do I sleep so damn much?


    I manage to catch the train at the last second, leaping onto its roof.


    ¡°Phew¡­ Made it,¡± I mutter, collapsing onto the metal surface.


    Unfortunately, my problems don¡¯t end there. The train is heading straight for a tunnel. I need to jump!


    I leap into the air. Good! That part was easy.


    Now comes the hard part: don¡¯t die.


    This tunnel runs directly beneath a GODDAMN HIGHWAY.


    I dodge once. Then again. A lady in an SUV nearly runs me over. Two bikers zip past so close I can feel the rush of air. Everyone here is driving at 200 kilometers per hour!


    But somehow, I survive.


    One last jump, and I¡¯m back on the train. Everything¡¯s fine now.


    From up here, the city looks like something out of a futuristic dream. On one side, there¡¯s a skyscraper wrapped in massive tree roots, its bioluminescent canopy casting a soft glow. Neon holograms dance across building facades, advertising everything from food to gadgets to some kind of magic elixir therapy.


    In the distance, I can see the skeleton of a massive dragon-like beast, incorporated into a colossal building. Its ribcage juts out like monumental arches.


    The streets below are alive with movement. Magnetic taxis glide along their designated paths, while multi-level highways buzz with endless traffic. Horns blare, music blasts, and snippets of conversation in different languages fill the air. The city¡¯s chaos is a symphony that never sleeps.


    Ah¡­ Rzeszow. It never changes.


    But I don¡¯t have time to admire the view.


    That¡¯s when a flock of pigeons¡ªor, more accurately, pigeon-mutants¡ªdecides to fly directly above me. Of course, I start dodging their massive droppings.


    But my luck runs out. One of those feathered bastards nails me right in the back.


    Cursing under my breath, I yank off my hoodie and scrub at the mess with tissues. It doesn¡¯t all come off, so I tie the hoodie around my waist and make a mad dash for school.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    When I finally get there, the halls are deserted. I didn¡¯t even check the time in my rush.


    I sprint to my classroom, but, of course, I trip and fall flat on my face as I burst through the door. Fantastic. The entire class gets a good laugh at my expense.


    The teacher glares at me, clearly pissed, but, surprisingly, she lets me off with nothing more than a verbal lashing. After her rant, I finally take my seat.


    Marcin, my best friend, leans over and whispers:


    ¡°Dude, why are you late again? I called you like four times.¡±


    I glance at my phone. Sure enough¡ªfour missed calls.


    ¡°Shit, sorry. I was out cold.¡±


    ¡°Of course you were,¡± he chuckles. ¡°You¡¯ve got a real talent for sleeping through life. Good thing you only got chewed out this time.¡±


    I¡¯m about to respond, but the teacher shoots me a death glare that could freeze hell itself. I shut up immediately.


    After my spectacular entrance, the lesson drags on. The teacher, who seems more excited than a bride at her wedding, continues her lecture:


    ¡°You¡¯re almost done with your first year, and these topics will be on the final test, so I suggest you pay attention. Especially you, Izak! So, who are the Awakened? They¡¯re individuals who have unlocked the potential of their souls, gaining supernatural abilities. In the past, such miracle-workers were rare, appearing only in legends. But everything changed in 1918. The Great Explosion¡­¡±


    Oh, great. The Great Explosion again. I know this story by heart, yet she speaks like she¡¯s recounting her personal memoirs.


    ¡°...caused the first space-time rift to open, releasing creatures from other dimensions. It marked the end of the old world. More rifts followed, and now we have three hovering over Poland. To this day, the cause of that explosion remains a mystery, but many believe it was triggered by an Awakened who couldn¡¯t control their powers. That¡¯s why all Awakened are now registered¡ªto prevent such disasters. These rifts opened the door to new technologies, thanks to the discovery of elements that don¡¯t exist on Earth.¡±


    A girl raises her hand.


    ¡°Miss, why do the Awakened have glowing eyes?¡±


    The teacher looks at her like she just asked why water is wet.


    ¡°My dear, an Awakened¡¯s eyes glow because they reflect the color of their soul. When someone awakens, their irises take on a hue that represents the true nature of their soul.¡±


    Another hand shoots up. Seriously, can¡¯t these people keep quiet? This time, it¡¯s a boy sitting near the edge of the room.


    ¡°Miss, if everything is so advanced now, why did we go back to a monarchy?¡±


    The teacher straightens up with pride, clearly thrilled by the question.


    ¡°That¡¯s thanks to the Awakened Revolution! They sought to overthrow democracy and reinstate monarchy. That¡¯s how noble families, like the Pilsudskis, were established¡­¡±


    Oh, fantastic. Back to the Middle Ages. Next, they¡¯ll be asking us to pay taxes in grain.


    Of course, she had to mention the noble families, and naturally, my surname came up. Like clockwork, they lump me in with all the other ¡°great Pilsudskis.¡±


    Too bad I didn¡¯t inherit the famous mustache (his mustache is practically a national treasure, as iconic as his role in history), I think, suppressing a smirk.


    ¡°...and now, King Jozef sits on the throne...¡±


    She drones on so long that she¡¯s already eaten into our break time. I can¡¯t take it anymore.


    ¡°Miss, break¡¯s already started. Can we leave?¡±


    She glares at me like I just insulted her entire family.


    ¡°You, Pi?sudski, are the last person who should be reminding me! But fine. Go.¡±


    Not waiting for her to change her mind, I bolt out of the classroom. Marcin¡¯s already waiting in the hall.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got some guts, man,¡± he says with a grin.


    ¡°That old hag really gets on my nerves,¡± I reply, still fuming.


    Marcin smirks.


    ¡°So, do you know what today is?¡±


    I pause to think.


    ¡°Uh¡­ Friday?¡±


    He sighs dramatically, like he¡¯s talking to a toddler.


    ¡°Anniversary, genius. Six years ago, we met Nadzieja for the first time.¡±


    Oh, right. I glance at him with a teasing grin.


    ¡°So, are you finally going to tell her you¡¯ve been crushing on her since that day?¡±


    Marcin turns as red as a tomato.


    ¡°Come on, man. You know I¡¯m scared of the friend zone.¡±


    I let out an exaggerated sigh and slap him on the back.


    ¡°Dude, how long are you gonna keep chickening out? Six years! She¡¯s gonna find someone else if you don¡¯t grow a pair.¡±


    Before Marcin can retort, Nadzieja rounds the corner. She¡¯s her usual radiant self, smiling brightly. Of course, we¡¯re being loud as hell, so she hears us right away.


    ¡°What are you two so excited about?¡± she asks, stepping closer.


    I seize the moment and grin.


    ¡°Perfect timing, Nadzieja! Marcin has something he wants to tell you.¡±


    ¡°Me?¡± Marcin looks at me like I¡¯ve just signed his death warrant.


    ¡°Yeah, you. Isn¡¯t that right? After all, it¡¯s the anniversary of when we first met her. He wanted to ask you out after school.¡±


    Nadzieja raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.


    ¡°Oh, really?¡±


    Marcin, now crimson, stammers:


    ¡°Y-yeah¡­ Uh, would you like to go to the mall?¡±


    ¡°Of course!¡± she replies enthusiastically, her smile lighting up the hallway.


    She glances at me with mock reproach.


    ¡°And you, Izak? It¡¯s your anniversary too¡ªour anniversary,¡± she emphasizes with a playful tone.


    I roll my eyes but offer a small smile.


    ¡°Seriously? I¡¯m not about to third-wheel your date¡ªI mean, your anniversary outing.¡±


    Nadzieja blushes, while Marcin looks like he¡¯s about to faint.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about me. I¡¯ve had six great years with you guys, but tonight is your night. You both deserve it,¡± I add theatrically, feigning sorrow.


    ¡°Izak¡­¡± Marcin looks at me with a mix of gratitude and panic.


    ¡°Relax, man. You¡¯ve got this,¡± I murmur just loud enough for him to hear.


    As Nadzieja heads off to her class, Marcin shoots me a death glare.


    ¡°You really threw me into the deep end¡­¡±


    The rest of the school day flies by. Marcin spends it on cloud nine, clearly thrilled. After classes, we part ways¡ªthey go off together, and I head back to my dorm.


    Good luck, lovebirds, I think with a grin as I walk away.


    I didn¡¯t know it would be the last time I¡¯d ever see them.

 The Curse

    Izak stopped by a kebab stand before returning to his apartment. As always, he ordered his favorite: lamb, spicy sauce, and perfectly crispy bread. It was the best kebab in the whole city. He left the shop satisfied, but before he could even savor the aroma, a drunken man suddenly stumbled into him.


    In an instant, the kebab fell to the ground.


    ¡°No!¡± Izak exclaimed in despair, staring at the remains of his dinner. ¡°What a waste! That kebab was a masterpiece!¡±


    Meanwhile, the drunkard, who had tripped over the boy, was lying on the ground muttering something incomprehensible. He lifted his head and tried to slur:


    ¡°Hey, watch where you¡¯re... going...¡±


    But the words caught in his throat. The man looked up and met Izak¡¯s gaze. Pi?sudski glared at him like a predator sizing up its prey ¨C his expression cold, almost murderous. The drunk swallowed hard, realizing this teenager didn¡¯t look like the average high schooler. Tall and well-built, with messy raspberry-colored hair that gave him a rebellious air, Izak¡¯s appearance was striking. Thick eyebrows and two vertical moles under his right eye made his face unforgettable.


    The drunkard sobered up almost instantly.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry! I¡¯ll buy you another kebab!¡± he blurted out, scrambling to his feet unsteadily.


    Minutes later, Izak held a new kebab in his hand, watching as the man quickly disappeared into the distance.


    ¡°Damn... I didn¡¯t think decent drunks existed anymore,¡± he muttered, slightly amused.


    Once back at his apartment, Izak tossed his bag into a corner and sat down at his computer. As usual, he was eager to unwind with his favorite game ¨C Legends of Legendary Heroes. A medieval-themed RPG with powerful bosses, epic battles, and hundreds of hours of gameplay, the game was his escape from reality. He had been playing for three years and reached a master level. As a member of the top guild on the European server, "NoHealing," Izak was part of an elite four-player team. The guild''s name stemmed from their unique approach ¨C they lacked a healer, which was typically considered suicide in this game. Yet they climbed to the top through sheer skill.


    Sitting at his desk, Izak noticed several unread messages in the guild chat.


    (Hero112): Are we doing the new boss today?


    (Hunter11): If we don¡¯t take him down fast enough, we¡¯ll lose our ranking.


    (8Supplier8): Don¡¯t worry about it. If you¡¯re all too busy, I can solo it myself. ??


    (Hunter11): Don¡¯t be so cocky. We all know you can¡¯t do it alone.


    (8Supplier8): HAHA! Wanna bet?


    (Hunter11): ??¡­


    (Hero112): But I also wanna fight the boss. Can I go with you, #8Supplier8 ???????


    (Hunter11): Why am I surrounded by idiots¡­ He¡¯s not going anywhere alone. #Hero112, we¡¯re waiting for #AlfaSigma69, and we¡¯re going together.


    Today marked the release of a new area in the game, complete with a new boss to conquer. Izak smirked at the familiar banter as he quickly typed a reply:


    (AlfaSigma69): Hey, I¡¯m here. Sorry I¡¯m late. Totally forgot it was today.


    (Hunter11): Nice of you to show up, Your Highness. They were getting out of hand without you¡­


    (8Supplier8): Out of hand? What nonsense. Everything¡¯s under control. ??


    (Hero112): Yay! Are we going now?


    (AlfaSigma69): Yeah, let¡¯s crush that guy. No way he¡¯s taking over our turf!!!


    (Hero112): LET¡¯S GOOO!!


    The four players had wildly different personalities, but together they formed a cohesive team. Despite three years of playing together, they knew nothing about each other beyond their usernames ¨C an unspoken rule of the guild discouraged prying into personal lives.


    In the game, Izak, known as AlfaSigma69, played a shield-bearer ¨C the only female character in the team. His choice combined defense with the ability to deal solid damage. AlfaSigma69 was always on the front lines, protecting teammates and drawing enemy attacks. Hunter11, the team¡¯s strategist, played an archer. He analyzed every situation and kept the group in check with pinpoint accuracy. 8Supplier8, the cocky and sarcastic berserker, often annoyed others but delivered devastating blows. Finally, Hero112, the na?ve and childlike assassin, excelled at striking from the shadows.


    The battle was intense. AlfaSigma69 and 8Supplier8 competed to deal the most damage, breaking through the boss¡¯s defenses. Hunter11 supported them from a distance, targeting weak points with deadly precision, while Hero112 circled the field, waiting to strike at the perfect moment. Their strategy paid off ¨C the guild not only defeated the boss but set a new server record.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    The most anticipated moment followed: the announcement of the MVP.


    Seconds later, a message flashed on the screen: MVP goes to: Hunter11.


    (AlfaSigma69): How is that possible!? I used my best combo on him¡­


    (8Supplier8): Hehe¡­ Well, well, quiet waters run deep.


    (Hero112): Congrats!! No one saw that coming. How did you do it?


    (Hunter11): While you guys were fooling around, I was landing critical hits from a distance. Thanks for breaking his shield, noobs. ??


    (AlfaSigma69): Oh, you got us good. Grats, man.


    (8Supplier8): I got tired of always taking MVP, so I decided to let someone else have it. Lucky you, Hunter! ??


    (Hunter11): Yeah, sure¡­ Next time, focus on the game, or I¡¯ll take it again.


    Their conversation was interrupted by a new message in the chat.


    (8Supplier8): Have you seen the news?


    (AlfaSigma69): No, what¡¯s up?


    (Hunter11): Is it about the terrorist attack?


    (Hero112): What!? Where?


    (AlfaSigma69): Eh, whatever. Probably far away.


    (8Supplier8): Haha¡­ Far away, you say? Depends on where you live. Terrorists hit Galleria Rzeszow. Rumor has it some of them are Awakened.


    Izak froze. One thought filled his mind: Marcin and Nadzieja¡­ They went there! This is my fault! I have to do something!


    He bolted out of his apartment, racing toward the gallery. The city was in chaos. Sirens wailed, fire trucks with flashing lights sped toward the mall, and crowds fled in terror.


    ¡°What am I doing?¡± he muttered, pushing through the panicked crowd. ¡°There are terrorists there. What can I even do? My dad always told me to avoid trouble...¡±


    But despite his doubts, he kept running. Adrenaline surged through his veins, and his heart pounded like a drum. In his mind, he saw only the faces of his friends ¨C Marcin and Nadzieja ¨C the ones he had dragged into this mess.


    When he arrived at the scene, he saw the gallery building consumed by flames. It was a modern shopping complex with glass walls that now cracked under the intense heat. The windows were coated in soot and smoke, making it impossible to see what was happening inside. Metal structural elements melted, resembling grotesque sculptures. The towering flames illuminated the night sky, casting a warm glow on the barricades and emergency vehicles spread around. The city guard and firefighters battled the inferno while special forces negotiated through megaphones. Chaos reigned in the streets¡ªpeople huddled in small groups, some praying, others weeping.


    The high schooler looked at the burning gallery, clenched his fists, and took a deep breath. ¡°I hope this curse is just my father¡¯s fabrication,¡± he thought, a sense of unease gripping his heart. There were still hostages inside. He knew the situation was hopeless, but he couldn¡¯t back down. Marcin and Nadzieja were there, and it was his fault they were in this mess.


    Quietly, he slipped inside through the fire escape. The air was thick with smoke, and the choking stench of burning filled his lungs. Collapsing sections of the ceiling and destroyed furnishings blocked the pathways, forcing him to leap over obstacles and weave through debris. Every step felt like a race against time.


    Moments later, he reached the heart of the crisis. In the spacious atrium of the gallery, filled with shattered shopfronts and toppled escalators, a crowd of terrified people¡ªaround a hundred¡ªhad been gathered. Masked and armed terrorists surrounded them. At the forefront stood a man clad in a snow-white robe, reciting something in a foreign tongue. His booming voice echoed off the ruined walls.


    Izak scanned the scene from the upper floor, searching for familiar faces. Finally, he spotted them at the edge of the crowd. Marcin knelt, holding Nadzieja close, trying to comfort her. The girl trembled, her eyes brimming with tears.


    Suddenly, the man in the white robe paused his chant. His powerful voice rang out:


    "Let there be fire!"


    What followed was like a scene from a nightmare. The masked terrorist extended his arms, and flames erupted from his body, consuming those nearest to him. The other guards opened fire. Horrified screams reverberated as the crowd scattered in panic.


    Marcin reacted instantly. He grabbed Nadzieja¡¯s hand and bolted, knocking over one of the guards. The man fell, trampled by fleeing people who paid no attention to his cries. The pair raced toward a staircase leading to the upper floor. Watching them, the boy immediately followed.


    He caught up with them on the gallery¡¯s top floor. Just as he was about to call out, Marcin turned and shouted:


    ¡°Where¡¯s Nadzieja? She was right behind me!¡± Panic laced his voice.


    Izak turned and saw something that froze his blood. Nadzieja stood in the shadows¡ªbut she wasn¡¯t alone. The man in the white robe had her by the neck, holding her like a trophy.


    ¡°Well, well¡­¡± the man said, licking his lips. ¡°Look at the little mice trying to hide.¡±


    Marcin froze, staring at Nadzieja¡¯s terrified face and her pleading eyes.


    ¡°Let her go!¡± he shouted, struggling to steady his trembling voice.


    The man laughed mockingly.


    ¡°Let her go? But she¡¯s with me of her own free will. Isn¡¯t that right, sweetheart?¡± He glanced at the girl, who hesitantly nodded in agreement.


    Izak felt the ground disappear beneath him. His mind went blank, and his body froze. Marcin, noticing his inaction, punched him hard in the stomach.


    ¡°Snap out of it, man! You came here to help, didn¡¯t you?! We have to do something, or¡­ or we¡¯ll lose her forever!¡±


    Those words snapped Izak back to reality. He knew the situation was dire. He had sworn never to use the awakening power, but now he had no choice. He looked at Marcin, who nodded. ¡°Just like old times,¡± he thought.


    They lunged at the terrorist, but the man had anticipated their move. He extended his hand toward the high schooler, and crimson flames shot toward him. Izak dodged at the last second, narrowly avoiding the attack. In that moment, the terrorist shoved Nadzieja toward the running Marcin. Both of them fell to the ground.


    ¡°DIE!¡± the terrorist roared.


    A fiery blast shot from his hands, striking the pair on the ground. Izak watched in horror as the flames engulfed their bodies. The screams of his friends pierced his soul. He grabbed a fire extinguisher and tried desperately to save them, but the flames were unquenchable.


    ¡°You think my fire can be extinguished?¡± the terrorist sneered.


    The boy felt his world crumble. He knelt on the ground, covering his ears and screaming, banging his head against the floor to drown out the sounds. Finally, there was silence. He looked at the charred remains of his friends, his heart filling with rage.


    ¡°I¡¯ll kill you¡­¡± he whispered, his eyes dark with fury.


    The strange man chuckled, his laughter echoing through the desolate hallway.


    ¡°Did you hit your head too hard, little bug?¡± he mocked, smirking derisively.


    Those words were the spark that lit the powder keg. The student launched himself at the terrorist, unleashing a flurry of chaotic blows. Anger and despair fueled his movements, but they lacked precision and strength. The criminal effortlessly dodged each strike, moving with mocking ease.


    ¡°Did you really think you stood a chance?¡± he asked, his face twisting into an arrogant grin. ¡°This is getting boring.¡±


    With a single, devastating punch, the man sent Izak flying across the hallway. He slammed into the wall with a sickening thud, his scream of pain nearly drowned out by the impact. He crumpled to the floor, dark spots dancing before his eyes.


    Blood dripped from his busted lips, nose, and temple, leaving scarlet trails on the floor. Every breath brought searing pain to his chest. ¡°This is the end,¡± he thought, closing his eyes as time seemed to slow.


    His father¡¯s words echoed in his mind:


    ¡°Son, you lead a life of chaos and violence. It¡¯s not just risk¡ªit¡¯s a curse that has haunted our family for generations. If you love too deeply, you will lose them. Everyone you care for will pay the ultimate price. And if you seek power, it will consume you, turning you into the executioner of those closest to you.¡±


    He had always thought his father was exaggerating, trying to steer him away from a reckless life. But now, ¡°lying in the blood of his friends,¡± he understood. Marcin and Nadzieja had died because of him¡ªnot because of the terrorists, but because of the curse tied to his name like a tragic fate.


    ¡°This is why my father wanted me to lead a quiet life. This damned curse has taken everything from me,¡± Izak thought, his sorrow giving way to self-directed anger. Rage coursed through his veins, slowly eclipsing the pain.


    ¡°DIE, insect!¡± the terrorist roared, raising his hand for a final blow.


    But for a moment, nothing happened. Izak, surprised by the silence, opened his eyes. What he saw defied all his expectations.

 A New Purpose

    Izak opened his eyes to see the face of a man leaning over him, wearing a broad grin.


    ¡°Boo!¡± the man exclaimed cheerfully.


    Izak froze, utterly confused.


    ¡°What? Not scared?¡± the stranger added with feigned disappointment.


    The boy glanced around the room, his eyes landing on the headless body of a masked man lying nearby. That was supposed to be his executioner. Nausea surged through him, but he pushed it down.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± he asked, still dazed, turning his gaze to the man standing above him.


    The stranger looked¡­ peculiar. His slicked-back hair was split into two halves¡ªone blue, the other red¡ªwith yellow strands sticking up at the crown of his head. He wore elegant attire¡ªa white shirt, a vest, trousers, and shoes¡ªbut his emoji-patterned tie and matching socks completely ruined the formal look. He carried shopping bags as if he¡¯d just returned from the market. But what stood out the most were his eyes, glowing with an intense yellow light.


    ¡°He¡¯s awakened. Otherwise, he couldn¡¯t have taken down that terrorist so quickly,¡± Izak thought.


    ¡°Me?¡± the man asked, pointing to himself. ¡°Just a passerby who heard your cry for help.¡±


    ¡°What cry for help?¡± Izak frowned. ¡°I didn¡¯t make a sound.¡±


    ¡°Not your mouth,¡± the stranger chuckled. ¡°Your soul. It was screaming like someone was tearing it apart.¡±


    Izak wanted to respond but froze when he noticed the man gesturing toward the ashen remains of Marcin and Nadzieja.


    ¡°Were those your friends?¡± he asked casually. ¡°A pity¡ªthey¡¯re gone.¡±


    Those words felt like a punch to the gut. Rage and helplessness churned within Izak.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be so cold to the person who just saved your life,¡± the stranger added with theatrical sorrow.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t ask for your help!¡± Izak snapped angrily.


    The man shrugged and changed the subject.


    ¡°Anyway, I ended up here by chance. I was out shopping, ready to pay, but the power went out because they cut the electricity. While looking for cash, I heard your soul¡¯s scream¡­¡± His words were punctuated by the rustle of his shopping bags, which he waved proudly.


    Before Izak could respond, a shout echoed through the room:


    ¡°GET ON THE GROUND! DON¡¯T MOVE!¡±


    Special forces officers burst in, weapons drawn. Izak dropped to the floor as instructed, but his rescuer didn¡¯t budge.


    ¡°I SAID GET ON THE GROUN¡­ Wait. What are you doing here¡­ Mr. Nowak?¡± the commanding officer stammered.


    Izak lifted his head to see the man smiling broadly.


    ¡°Ah, I see my little shopping detour attracted more than just terrorists,¡± he said, clearly pleased with himself.


    This was no ordinary man. It was Filip Nowak, the headmaster of the school for the awakened.


    The officers began securing the room. The scene was gruesome: a headless corpse lay in the center, the severance unnaturally smooth, almost surgical, as if done in one precise motion with a perfect blade. Blood pooled around the body and splattered the walls.


    The charred remains, twisted into grotesque poses, looked like burned sculptures. Their cracked, blackened skin revealed exposed bones in some places. One body had a hand raised, as if trying to shield its face from flames¡ªthe fingers were reduced to scorched stumps. Another, curled in a corner, resembled a macabre mannequin, with remnants of muscle clinging to the scorched concrete.


    Amid the chaos of melted metal, burned wood, and shattered glass, the stench of charred flesh and hair hung heavily in the air, making the room unbearable for anyone who entered.


    The commander, taking in the horror, clenched his fists, his expression a mix of anger and frustration.


    ¡°Damn it! Another one dead,¡± he growled, his voice like a hammer strike. His gaze shifted to Nowak. ¡°I thought we¡¯d catch this one alive.¡±


    Filip shrugged, smiling.


    ¡°I was protecting a potential student for my school,¡± he said, winking at Izak, who ignored him and moved toward the exit. Annoyed, the commander turned back to Nowak.


    ¡°Why did you come in so late?¡± Filip asked, his cheerful demeanor replaced with a cold glare.


    The officer exhaled deeply, swallowing hard.


    ¡°We were negotiating. One of them demanded 300 million zloty for the hostages. I thought we had more time, but it was a bluff. When I heard the screams, I ordered the breach.¡±


    Filip raised an eyebrow, analyzing every word.


    ¡°Clever move,¡± he finally admitted. ¡°But you don¡¯t need me here anymore. Sayonara!¡±


    Before anyone could respond, Filip vanished into thin air. The commander cursed under his breath. He hadn¡¯t had the chance to ask the headmaster the most pressing question: What the hell just happened here?


    Izak was transported to the hospital, where he spent four days. His injuries¡ªseveral broken ribs and numerous bruises¡ªhealed surprisingly quickly thanks to his awakened powers. Physically, he recovered, but mentally¡­ he was a wreck.


    A week passed. Izak shut himself in his room, refusing to even attend his friends¡¯ funeral. The thought of facing their families was unbearable. He hadn¡¯t opened his guild¡¯s chat since the tragedy, and the only person he spoke to was his mother, just enough to keep her from visiting.


    Each night, the nightmares returned¡ªscreams, fire, the lifeless bodies of his friends. And above all, the guilt gnawed at him like poison. I could have done something. I should have done something. The thought replayed in his mind like a mantra.


    On the last day of school, Izak finally decided to leave his room. His eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, his face void of expression. He dressed silently and headed to school.


    He didn¡¯t notice anything around him¡ªneither the passing people nor the sounds of the city. When he entered the classroom, the stares of his classmates pierced him like daggers. Some looked sympathetic; others avoided his gaze.


    The history teacher entered the room, breaking the tense silence.


    ¡°Oh, I see Pi?sudski has finally shown up. And right on time,¡± she remarked with a smile, trying to ease the atmosphere.


    The lesson passed quickly, filled with the distribution of diplomas and wishes for a good vacation. As Izak left the classroom, it started to rain. Ignoring the downpour, he walked toward the school gate. Someone was waiting for him there.


    ¡°Hey there! How are you holding up?¡± Filip Nowak asked casually, leaning against the wall.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    Izak shot him a glance and walked in the opposite direction.


    ¡°If you walk away now, you¡¯ll lose more of the people you care about,¡± Filip said behind him, this time in a serious tone.


    The student froze. ¡°How does he know about the curse?¡± he thought, turning abruptly.


    ¡°How do you know?¡±


    Nowak shrugged.


    ¡°Your father told me everything.¡±


    ¡°So, you know how to help me?!¡± Pi?sudski shouted, his voice tinged with desperation.


    The director looked at him intently.


    ¡°I can help you, but first, you need to stop feeling sorry for yourself.¡±


    ¡°Feeling sorry for myself?!¡± Izak took a step toward the director, clenching his fists. ¡°I lost my friends! You have no idea what I¡¯m going through!¡±


    Filip raised an eyebrow, as if the accusations hurled at him were mere trifles.


    ¡°You¡¯re wrong. I know that pain all too well. And I know that self-pity will get you nowhere. If you want to protect them, you need to become stronger.¡±


    ¡°Stronger?¡± the high schooler echoed, his voice trembling. ¡°You don¡¯t know anything about me!¡±


    ¡°I know enough. I know your weaknesses will destroy you if you don¡¯t do something about them,¡± Nowak said coldly but convincingly. ¡°Your father believed that a quiet life would protect you from the curse. He was wrong.¡±


    ¡°Then why didn¡¯t he tell me to become stronger himself?!¡± Izak shouted, tears streaming down his face.


    The director sighed heavily, as if he had heard this question countless times before.


    ¡°Because he was afraid the power would consume you, just as it did others. But that was his weakness, not yours. You have a chance to be better.¡±


    The high schooler looked at the director, uncertainty in his eyes, before finally voicing the question that had plagued him from the start.


    ¡°How am I supposed to become stronger?¡± he asked, his voice almost pleading.


    Nowak pointed a finger at himself.


    ¡°I¡¯ll help train you.¡±


    The boy lowered his head. His thoughts swirled, but Filip¡¯s words seemed to penetrate the wall of his despair. ¡°If I have to sit and do nothing...¡± he thought, ¡°then I¡¯d rather fight.¡±


    ¡°All right,¡± he said quietly. ¡°Train me.¡±


    The director smirked faintly.


    ¡°Excellent. But this won¡¯t be any ordinary training. You have two months to prepare for the entrance exam to my school. This isn¡¯t an ordinary school. Everyone who gets in has to prove they¡¯re worthy of a spot.¡±


    ¡°An exam?¡± Izak asked nervously. ¡°I¡¯ve never learned how to control my power...¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s exactly why you need me.¡± Filip crossed his arms. ¡°This summer will be hell because I¡¯m going to prepare you not only physically but mentally. I¡¯ll be your worst nightmare. Are you sure you¡¯re ready for this?¡±


    Pi?sudski clenched his fists, determination flashing in his eyes.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never been more ready.¡±


    Nowak smiled widely.


    ¡°In that case, we¡¯ll meet tomorrow at six a.m. at the junkyard. For now, go home. Rest. Tonight will be your last peaceful evening.¡±


    ¡°But wait, the junkyard is outside the permitted zone,¡± the boy replied, puzzled.


    A sinister smile spread across Filip¡¯s face.


    ¡°Exactly! No one will bother us there.¡±


    Izak looked at Nowak quizzically but found no words. After a moment, he simply turned and headed toward his dorm. The walk was long and quiet, but chaos reigned in his mind. Everything that had happened played out in his head like a film. Gradually, however, he came to the conclusion that he had made the right decision.


    ¡°Marcin and Nadzieja wouldn¡¯t want me to wallow in grief,¡± he thought as he crossed the threshold of the dorm.


    He felt a new light of hope, ignited by Filip, slowly dispelling the darkness that surrounded him. That thought gave him the courage to open the team chat, though he hadn¡¯t had the strength for any conversations until now.


    He saw dozens of messages ¨C ranging from simple questions to jokes. He felt something inside him soften.


    ¡°They miss me,¡± he said to himself with a slight smile.


    He scrolled through the chat until he found familiar usernames. The messages were still there, as if waiting for his reply.


    ¡°I can¡¯t let them down,¡± he thought and began to type.


    (AlfaSigma69): Hey, sorry for disappearing so suddenly, but I got a cool summer job offer and won¡¯t be able to play as often.


    (Hero112): What?! A job¡­ We won¡¯t be able to play together?! ??


    (8Supplier8): Interesting. Are you sure it¡¯s about work? Or maybe you were just sitting in a corner crying?


    Izak froze, feeling a strange twinge of unease. How does he know? ¨C the thought raced through his mind. Only a few people know the truth¡­ Could Filip be 8Supplier8?!


    Before he could react, 8Supplier8 continued:


    (8Supplier8): ¡­Because you couldn¡¯t get over Hunter snatching the MVP in the last raid, hehe.


    The boy sighed with relief and quickly replied:


    (AlfaSigma69): Haha, yeah, that was exactly it! I just couldn¡¯t handle it! ??


    (Hero112): I knew it! So it was emotional trauma, not work!


    (Hunter11): Anyway, good to have you back. Good luck with the job.


    (8Supplier8): But remember, when you come back, Hero might have a better DPS than you. What will you do then?


    (AlfaSigma69): Then I¡¯ll stop logging into chat so you can¡¯t remind me about it!


    (Hero112): Haha, don¡¯t worry, Alfa, I won¡¯t surpass you¡­ probably. ??


    (8Supplier8): I can already see Hero outscoring you. I think we¡¯d all have to break our fingers for that to happen xD


    (Hero112): AHA!? Not nice ??


    (AlfaSigma69): Thanks for the support, 8Supplier8. ??


    (8Supplier8): Always at your service. Come back soon; the work is piling up, and the raids won¡¯t organize themselves.


    (AlfaSigma69): Thanks, see you soon! ??


    Closing the chat, Izak felt something in his heart relax. His gaming friends were still there, waiting for him, even if they didn¡¯t know the truth. Maybe not everything was lost.


    That night, however, his thoughts turned elsewhere. He thought about training, about what the Director had said, about what he needed to do to stand a chance in this new reality. Then, he remembered something else ¨C the old times when he and Marcin used to sneak out of the city. Those memories gave him an idea of how to bypass the wall¡¯s security.


    ¡°Fifty percent chance it¡¯ll work...¡± he muttered under his breath, trying to convince himself it was enough.


    The next day, he woke up early. He got dressed, ate a quick breakfast, and headed toward the laser wall.


    He knew the place well ¨C a specific spot where the wire casing was damaged, allowing for a short circuit to disable the system. If he acted quickly, he could shut down a section of the laser for a few seconds.


    When he reached the spot, he looked around carefully.


    ¡°No one¡¯s here...¡± he whispered to himself, but his confidence didn¡¯t last long.


    Suddenly, he heard voices. Someone was approaching. Guards.


    The student quickly hid in nearby bushes. His heart pounded so loudly it nearly drowned out the sound of footsteps. Why now? ¨C he thought in panic.


    The guards stopped nearby and began checking something. Time seemed to stretch endlessly before they finally left.


    ¡°Damn, couldn¡¯t you guys waste more time here?¡± he muttered quietly under his breath, trying to calm himself.


    Once the area was clear, he quickly got to work. Pulling out a thin wire, he began tinkering with the circuits. The short circuit worked ¨C for a brief moment, the two bottom lasers shut off.


    Wasting no time, Pilsudski squeezed through the gap, feeling the heat of the laser almost burning his leg as the system reactivated.


    ¡°Damn, that was close!¡± he said, still catching his breath.


    With relief, he left the wall¡¯s perimeter and made his way to the junkyard, where the training was supposed to take place.


    When he arrived, he saw Filip standing atop a pile of garbage. He looked like the king of chaos. The sight was so absurd that Izak burst into laughter.


    Nowak looked down at him with a grin before disappearing without a trace.

 Endurance and Speed

    Izak rubbed his eyes in disbelief. ¡°He was just standing there a second ago,¡± he thought, staring at the top of the trash heap.


    The landfill he found himself in looked like a battlefield of discarded waste. Massive piles of garbage loomed around him, forming grotesque mountains that glinted with fragments of metal and plastic. Rusting car wrecks, abandoned furniture, and shattered electronics were scattered between the mounds. The air was heavy, laden with the stench of decay, chemicals, and damp rot. In the distance, a sorting machine hummed steadily, while mutated rats scurried among the debris, searching for scraps.


    The silence was interrupted by a familiar, slightly mocking voice.


    ¡°Looks like you¡¯re in good spirits, so let¡¯s get started with the training.¡±


    Before Izak could respond, he felt a powerful kick hit him square in the back. The force sent him flying several meters forward, landing face-first in a pile of trash. He choked on dust and fragments of plastic, struggling to get his bearings.


    ¡°What the hell...?!¡± he croaked, pushing himself up on trembling arms. Spitting out something that might once have been a chip wrapper, he turned to face the director. ¡°Couldn¡¯t you at least give me a warning first?!¡±


    Filip descended the trash heap with an unbothered expression.


    ¡°I did warn you. I said the training was starting.¡±


    Izak squinted, wiping his face with his sleeve.


    ¡°Yeah, sure. But what was that? Some kind of motivational technique? Kick the student in the back to make him listen better?¡±


    The man merely shrugged, a faintly smug smile playing on his lips. Izak sighed, trying to steady his breathing, then shot him a suspicious look.


    ¡°Okay, but seriously. How did you even get here?¡±


    The director raised an eyebrow, as if the question amused him.


    ¡°I have clearance. Like every Awakened who¡¯s passed the special test.¡±


    The student froze, his fists clenching as his irritation reached its peak.


    ¡°You have clearance?! Then why the hell couldn¡¯t we just come here together?! The wall guards almost caught me! I thought I was going to shit myself from fear!¡±


    Filip¡¯s grin widened, and a familiar glint appeared in his eyes.


    ¡°It was more entertaining this way.¡±


    Izak stared at him, dumbfounded, before letting out a deep sigh.


    ¡°Entertaining?! Man, I thought I was going to end up in some lab where they¡¯d cut me into pieces!¡±


    Nowak shrugged nonchalantly, as if it were no big deal.


    ¡°But you didn¡¯t, did you? At least now you can say you know how to avoid guards. That¡¯s progress.¡±


    Izak took a deep breath, trying to calm down. ¡°He¡¯s actually enjoying this,¡± he thought. After a moment, his anger gave way to pure frustration.


    ¡°Fine, but next time you¡¯re the one sneaking past the laser wall. Let¡¯s see how funny you think it is then!¡±


    The man chuckled briefly before replying, ¡°Dream on.¡±


    The dust around them began to settle as Filip suddenly reached into his blazer pocket and pulled out a thick stack of documents. With a theatrical flourish, he unfolded them and handed them to Izak.


    ¡°This is your application for the entrance exam to our school.¡±


    Izak frowned, eyeing the stack of papers filled with dense, official text. It all looked overly complicated and far too formal. He sighed, turning his gaze away from the print.


    ¡°I¡¯m not even going to read this. I¡¯ve already decided I¡¯m taking part.¡±


    ¡°I thought as much,¡± Nowak replied with a smirk. ¡°But you should know, the deadline for submissions was yesterday.¡±


    ¡°What?!¡± Izak stared at him in horror. ¡°So why are you giving this to me if it¡¯s already too late?¡±


    Filip scratched his chin, feigning a moment of contemplation.


    ¡°Because, my dear boy, I¡¯m the director of this school. All it takes is a little ¡®smile¡¯ at the secretaries, and the deadline magically shifts. Trust me.¡±


    Izak rolled his eyes but couldn¡¯t suppress the wave of relief washing over him. Without much thought, he signed all the documents, ignoring the fine print and official clauses.


    ¡°I hope your ¡®smile¡¯ actually works,¡± he muttered, handing the papers back.


    The director tucked the documents away, a satisfied expression on his face.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. It¡¯ll work. Now, let¡¯s get back to training. You¡¯ve got a long day ahead.¡±


    Izak brushed off the lingering dust, feeling a strange resonance in his chest from the earlier blow. But before he could utter more than a few words, a wave of weakness swept over him.


    ¡°I feel... weird,¡± he admitted, clutching his head. ¡°Like I¡¯m about to pass out.¡±


    The Director, standing a few steps away, looked at him with a broad smile as if everything was perfectly normal.


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s starting. Welcome to your first training session.¡±


    Izak struggled to lift his gaze.


    ¡°What? What are you talking about?¡± he asked, trying to focus on the director despite the growing dizziness.


    ¡°Radiation,¡± Filip said, spreading his arms wide like he was unveiling some grand secret. ¡°These aren¡¯t just regular piles of trash. It¡¯s a special mix of radioactive materials and other technological marvels that should¡¯ve been buried far away from humanity long ago. But hey, who cares about that, right?¡±


    Izak groaned, leaning against a rusted car wreck.


    ¡°And this is your idea of training? Killing me with radiation?¡±


    The man chuckled softly, as though it was the most absurd question he¡¯d ever heard.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, you won¡¯t die¡­ probably. But if you want to become a real Awakened, you need to learn how to block this stuff from affecting your body.¡±


    ¡°How?¡± Izak asked, feeling his knees start to buckle.


    ¡°It¡¯s simple. You just have to want to.¡± Filip shrugged. ¡°I learned because I wanted to. So you¡¯ll have to want it, too.¡±


    Izak stared at him like he was looking at someone completely unhinged.


    ¡°That¡¯s it? That¡¯s your advice? Just ¡®want it¡¯?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Filip nodded with absolute conviction. ¡°Want not to pass out.¡±


    Izak wiped his face with his hand, trying to suppress his growing frustration.


    ¡°Fantastic. Maybe you¡¯ll also tell me to think of butterflies and happy thoughts?¡±


    The director smirked mischievously.


    ¡°That¡¯s not a bad idea, actually. But no, focus on your core. Awakened individuals can block things like radiation because they can control the flow of energy within themselves. You have that power, too¡ªyou just need to feel it.¡±


    Izak collapsed to his knees, then sat heavily on the ground.


    ¡°How am I supposed to feel anything when I feel like I¡¯m about to puke up my lungs?!¡±


    Filip looked down at him.


    ¡°That¡¯s the beauty of training. The more you suffer, the more you learn. But fine, maybe I¡¯ll help a little.¡±


    He walked closer and sat down on the wreck next to Izak.


    ¡°Try to imagine your body as a dam. See this pressure¡ªthis radiation? You need to build a wall to block it.¡±


    Izak closed his eyes, trying to focus on Filip¡¯s words. But every attempt to concentrate was interrupted by another wave of nausea.


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ not working¡­¡±


    The director sighed dramatically.


    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s try a different approach. What pisses you off the most?¡±


    Izak furrowed his brow.


    ¡°You.¡±


    ¡°Perfect!¡± Nowak clapped his hands together. ¡°Focus on that irritation. Use it to build a barrier. Picture yourself blocking me out, just like the radiation.¡±


    Though the absurdity of the suggestion nearly hurt, Izak had nothing to lose. He clenched his teeth and tried.


    Darkness. Everything around him felt cold and alien. Izak sensed his body breaking apart, his mind drifting somewhere beyond reality. With every moment, he felt an invisible weight pressing down on him, as though the air itself wanted to crush him.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    He saw no light, but he heard sounds. Strange, incomprehensible noises that seemed to pulse in his head. Each note, each hum was like a needle stabbing into his mind, bringing pain and confusion.


    ¡°Am I¡­ dead?¡± he thought, but then something within him stirred. Suddenly, as if from the depths of his soul, a warmth emerged. It was faint, barely noticeable, but undeniable.


    Don¡¯t give up.


    It wasn¡¯t Filip¡¯s voice, nor anyone else¡¯s. It was his own voice, coming from a place within him that had been dormant until now.


    Slowly, the warmth began to spread through his body, pushing out the cold. Izak felt his heartbeat grow stronger, his breathing steady. The sounds that had been unbearable before started to fade, as though being driven back by something more powerful.


    ¡°I need to¡­ wake up,¡± he whispered.


    Everything stopped.


    He opened his eyes and saw the sky¡ªa dull gray with clouds lazily drifting by. A cool breeze brushed against his face.


    ¡°Finally awake, Sleeping Beauty?¡± he heard a familiar, mocking voice.


    Izak propped himself up on his elbows, his whole body aching. Nowak stood nearby, holding an energy drink in one hand and a sandwich in the other.


    ¡°What happened?¡± Izak asked, wiping the sweat off his forehead.


    ¡°Well, for a moment, I thought we¡¯d have to leave you behind in pieces. But no, you pulled through,¡± the man announced, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.


    ¡°How¡­ how long was I out?¡± the student asked, his heart beginning to race.


    ¡°Three days,¡± Filip replied casually, placing the food next to him. ¡°Your soul was fighting off the radiation. But hey, congratulations, you managed to purge it.¡±


    Izak¡¯s eyes widened in disbelief.


    ¡°Three days?! What?!¡±


    The director smirked and handed him the bottle.


    ¡°Relax, you didn¡¯t miss anything. Well, aside from looking like a fish out of water. Now drink and eat, because you need to regain your strength quickly.¡±


    Izak grabbed the sandwich, though his stomach was still protesting, and gave the man a suspicious look.


    ¡°Something tells me you¡¯re not giving me this out of the goodness of your heart.¡±


    Filip chuckled and turned toward the vast expanse of the junkyard behind them.


    ¡°You¡¯re right. It¡¯s time for the next phase of your training.¡±


    Izak stopped chewing and furrowed his brows.


    ¡°What now?¡±


    Nowak turned back, his expression serious, though a mischievous glint sparkled in his eyes.


    ¡°A thousand laps around this dump.¡±


    The sandwich nearly fell out of the boy¡¯s hand.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°You heard me. A thousand. Laps.¡± The director enunciated each word slowly, as if explaining something to a child.


    The student glanced at the expanse around them. The junkyard was enormous, stretching so far that he couldn¡¯t see its end.


    ¡°This has to be a joke!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not joking,¡± Filip shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s a great way to build your endurance and teach you how to control your breathing after that radiation battle.¡±


    ¡°Control my breathing?!¡± Izak nearly shouted as he stood up. ¡°This is ridiculous!¡±


    The man gave him a solemn look.


    ¡°Ridiculous was lying unconscious in a pile of radioactive trash for three days. And yet, you survived that. Trust me, a thousand laps will be nothing compared to that.¡±


    Izak clenched his fists, feeling a wave of anger rise within him.


    ¡°You¡¯re really enjoying this, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    The director grinned widely.


    ¡°What do you think?¡±


    Taking a deep breath, Izak turned away from Filip and began jogging along the edge of the junkyard.


    ¡°Idiot,¡± he muttered under his breath.


    Filip watched him with satisfaction, holding another energy drink in his hand.


    ¡°Don¡¯t forget to keep a positive attitude!¡± he called out before walking off, humming a cheerful tune.


    Izak ran. Sweat soaked his clothes, and his heart pounded so hard it felt like it might burst out of his chest. His breaths grew shorter and more ragged, and his legs felt as though they weighed a ton.


    ¡°This is impossible¡­ A thousand laps? That guy¡¯s completely insane¡­¡± he thought, trying his best not to collapse.


    Every time he felt like giving up, he remembered Nowak¡¯s words: ¡®Ridiculous was lying unconscious in a pile of radioactive trash for three days. And yet, you survived that.¡¯


    ¡°Bastard,¡± he hissed through gritted teeth, trying to block out the growing pain that coursed through his entire body.


    Minutes turned into hours, and hours felt like an eternity. The exhaustion was overwhelming, and his thoughts started to spiral.


    ¡°Why am I doing this? I could¡¯ve stayed a regular gamer, sitting at my computer, sipping soda. What made me think getting into this whole Awakened business was a good idea?¡±


    At some point, his vision began to blur. His legs buckled more and more until he finally lost his balance and collapsed to the ground. The last thing he heard before darkness consumed him was the sound of trash shifting under his weight.


    When he opened his eyes, the sky was already dark. He had no idea how long he had been unconscious, but it felt like hours had passed.


    ¡°I can¡¯t do this¡­¡± he thought, trying to get up, but his muscles refused to cooperate.


    In the distance, Izak saw a man casually sitting on a pile of trash, munching on chips and waving at him.


    ¡°Terrible form! Come on, get up! No time for naps!¡± the man shouted cheerfully.


    ¡°Go to hell¡­¡± Izak croaked, but still forced himself to stand.


    For the next several days, the cycle repeated. Izak ran, collapsed, woke up, and ran again. Pain became his constant companion. Every part of his body protested against the relentless challenge. Sometimes, Nowak threw rocks at him to wake him up; other times, he laughed, calling him a walking corpse.


    By the seventh day, Izak knew this was his final attempt. His body was at its breaking point, and he felt like he couldn¡¯t muster the strength to rise again. But as he looked out over the trash heap and pictured Nowak¡¯s smug grin, something inside him snapped.


    ¡°I¡¯m not giving him the satisfaction. Not this time.¡±


    Summoning the last reserves of his energy, Izak pushed himself to start his final lap. Every step felt like his body was on fire. His vision blurred, and the sound of his labored breathing drowned out everything else.


    Then, as if a switch flipped inside him, the pain began to subside. The exhaustion that had weighed him down became less oppressive. His body seemed to move on its own, each stride more fluid and purposeful.


    He completed the last lap at a speed he¡¯d never thought possible. The wind whipped against his face, and the trash parted beneath his feet as if the world itself were clearing the path for him. When he finally reached the starting point, he fell to his knees, gasping for air.


    Nowak approached slowly, clapping in mock approval.


    ¡°Well, well, you actually did it. I have to admit, it was pretty impressive.¡±


    Izak lifted his head, his eyes burning with anger.


    ¡°You¡­ you¡¯re a goddamn psychopath.¡±


    Filip chuckled and handed him a bottle of water.


    ¡°Maybe. But I¡¯m a psychopath who knows how to turn you into someone stronger. Now rest up. In three days, the real training begins.¡±


    Izak¡¯s jaw dropped.


    ¡°This¡­ this wasn¡¯t real training?!¡±


    Nowak shrugged and began walking away, calling over his shoulder:


    ¡°This was just the warm-up. Welcome to hell, Izak.¡±


    The student barely made it back to his room. This time, Nowak, in a surprisingly generous mood, allowed him to pass through the barrier legally using his pass.


    ¡°Well, who would¡¯ve thought? Turns out you can actually be useful,¡± Izak muttered sarcastically, wiping sweat from his brow.


    Filip simply shrugged.


    ¡°Don¡¯t get used to it. That was a one-time courtesy.¡±


    Once he got to his room, Izak took a quick shower and collapsed onto his bed, barely managing to kick off his shoes. He wanted to sleep for three days straight, ignoring the world entirely.


    But reality had other plans.


    At seven the next morning, he woke up feeling¡­ strangely good. For a moment, he lay there, staring at the ceiling, stunned by the fact that his body wasn¡¯t rebelling after a week of hellish training.


    ¡°What the¡­?¡± he murmured, sitting up and stretching. He felt energized, as if someone had plugged him into a fresh power source.


    Not wasting any time, he headed downstairs to the kitchen and prepared himself a hearty breakfast. Egg and cheese sandwiches tasted better than ever, and a cup of coffee gave him an extra boost.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see if my game still remembers me,¡± he thought with a grin as he sat down at his computer. Logging into his favorite game, he was greeted by a flood of messages from his guild.


    (8Supplier8): Still alive, Alpha, or has work killed you off? ??


    (Hero112): We miss you, Alpha! Come back soon, we suck without you!


    Izak typed back a short response:


    (AlfaSigma69): Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m alive and kicking. Got three days off, so I plan to make the most of it.


    After a few hours of gaming, Izak felt restless. Something in his body craved movement. He decided to head outside and go for a run through the city.


    It was like nothing he¡¯d ever experienced.


    With every minute of running, he could feel how differently his body operated. He was faster, more agile, and more resilient. People on the streets stared at him in astonishment as he flew past them like a gust of wind.


    ¡°Is this really me?!¡± he thought, sprinting across one of the city¡¯s plazas. He felt like he could run forever.


    Three days passed in a flash. Izak used the time to recover, train, and reconnect with his guild. But he had a plan.


    He wouldn¡¯t give Filip any more reasons to laugh at him. This time, he would be smarter.


    On the fourth day, he woke up early¡ªat three in the morning. He ate breakfast, prepared himself, and arrived at the entrance to the junkyard zone by four o¡¯clock sharp. He stood there, waiting.


    When Nowak finally showed up, stretching lazily, Izak greeted him with a triumphant smirk.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been waiting for you. This time, we go in together. No tricks, no risks.¡±


    Filip looked at him, a mix of surprise and amusement crossing his face.


    ¡°Well, well, someone¡¯s prepared. Looks like all that running did pay off.¡±


    Izak shrugged.


    ¡°I¡¯m just trying to avoid stupid situations.¡±


    The man raised an eyebrow but said nothing more, letting him pass through the barrier with the pass.


    ¡°Don¡¯t think this means you¡¯re getting off easy,¡± he called out with a grin as they entered the junkyard.


    ¡°I could say the same to you,¡± Izak shot back with a faint smile, though his eyes gleamed with determination. This time, he was ready to take control of his destiny. He braced himself for another grueling day of training, knowing full well that Filip would push him to his absolute limits once more.

 Strength and Focus

    As soon as they arrived, Nowak threw something massive onto the ground with a loud thud. Izak stared at the hulking, rusted fragment of a metallic wreckage that Filip had casually dropped. The jagged piece looked like it had once belonged to a colossal ship or machine¡ªcracked, covered in rust, and bearing the scars of an old fire. The teenager furrowed his brows, his eyes sweeping over the massive chunk of steel.


    ¡°This is your next task,¡± the director announced, planting his hands on his hips.


    ¡°You¡¯re kidding, right?¡± Izak asked incredulously, his gaze flickering between the wreckage and Nowak. ¡°That thing¡¯s gotta weigh half a ton!¡±


    ¡°Maybe more,¡± Filip replied with a faint smirk. ¡°But who¡¯s counting? Awakened aren¡¯t supposed to focus on weight¡ªthey focus on results.¡±


    Izak felt his frustration bubble to the surface. He clenched his fists and glared at the director, who seemed to be enjoying the situation far too much. Still, he had no choice. He had to try.


    He stepped closer to the wreckage, gripping it cautiously with both hands. The metal was cold, rough, and its jagged edges dug painfully into his palms. He bent his knees and took a deep breath.


    ¡°Alright, on three¡­¡± he muttered, trying to psych himself up.


    One¡­ Two¡­ Three!


    He tightened every muscle in his body and attempted to lift the wreck. It didn¡¯t budge. After a few moments of futile effort, his arms screamed in protest, forcing him to stop.


    ¡°This is a joke,¡± he said, straightening up and looking at Filip. ¡°There¡¯s no way anyone could lift that!¡±


    The director shrugged nonchalantly.


    ¡°You¡¯re just not trying hard enough. It¡¯s not about muscle strength here.¡±


    ¡°Then what is it about?!¡± Izak barked, wiping sweat from his brow.


    ¡°Desire,¡± Nowak answered with a sly grin. ¡°And a dash of willpower.¡±


    Izak ground his teeth. He wasn¡¯t about to let the director have the last laugh. Once again, he crouched down, gripping the wreck more firmly this time. He pushed harder, channeling every ounce of strength he could muster. His entire body burned with effort, veins bulging across his arms and neck. The wreck still refused to move.


    ¡°Focus,¡± Filip called out, settling himself on a nearby pile of trash. ¡°Imagine that thing is blocking your path to something¡ªor someone¡ªyou care about deeply.¡±


    Izak closed his eyes, his breath heavy and uneven. Images of Marcin and Nadzieja flashed through his mind¡ªtheir faces, their screams. The curse. It all still weighed heavily on his heart.


    Tightening his grip on the wreckage, he pushed with all his might. This time, the metal shifted. The grating sound of rusted steel echoed across the junkyard. Slowly, painfully, he lifted it a few centimeters off the ground. Then a few more. Every fiber of his being screamed in agony, but he refused to stop.


    ¡°Now we¡¯re getting somewhere,¡± Filip said approvingly.


    After several grueling seconds, Izak finally hoisted the wreckage to waist height. His legs trembled like jelly, and his arms felt like they were on fire, but he held on.


    ¡°Phew¡­ I did it,¡± he gasped, dropping the wreck with a loud crash.


    ¡°That¡¯s just the beginning,¡± the director quipped as he stood up. ¡°You¡¯re taking it with you.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Izak wheezed, staring at him in disbelief.


    ¡°We¡¯re heading to the Compression Zone,¡± Nowak announced with a grin.


    The director led him to a nightmarish landscape. The ground was unnaturally flat, marked with deep impressions of metal scraps crushed into the earth by unfathomable force.


    ¡°This,¡± Filip explained, gesturing at the desolate area, ¡°is the Compression Zone. Here, waste is compressed using variable gravity. Your task is to cross the entire field while carrying that wreck.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re joking, right?¡± Izak asked, his voice laced with a mix of fear and irritation.


    ¡°Not at all. If you fall or drop the wreck, you¡¯ll get flattened.¡±


    Izak glanced at the field, then at the wreck, and finally at Nowak. There was no way out of this. Taking a deep breath, he braced himself, hoisted the wreck again, and stepped onto the field.


    The moment he entered, he felt the gravity shift. Each step required immense effort, and the weight in his arms seemed to double. After just a few meters, his knees began to buckle.


    ¡°Imagine your life is waiting for you at the other end of this field,¡± Nowak shouted from the edge. ¡°If you don¡¯t make it, you¡¯ll never get it back!¡±


    Izak trudged forward, ignoring the burning in his muscles. When he reached the middle of the field, the gravity spiked suddenly, forcing him to his knees. The wreck dropped beside him with a deafening clang.


    ¡°I can¡¯t give up,¡± he thought, his breath ragged.


    He tried to push himself to his knees, but the crushing force pinned him down. The wreck, which had seemed heavy before, now felt immovable. He could feel the invisible pressure pushing him into the ground, stealing the last shreds of his strength.


    ¡°Get up!¡± he growled through clenched teeth, willing his body to move.


    But nothing happened. The gravity held him fast, suffocating his determination. His breaths grew shallow, and each twitch of his muscles sent searing pain through his body.


    His mind raced. ¡°Is this how it ends? Will this curse claim me too, right here?¡± He saw Marcin and Nadzieja again¡ªtheir terrified faces, their screams echoing in his head.


    Tears welled up in his eyes. ¡°I can¡¯t let them down. I can¡¯t give up!¡± he repeated to himself, even as his body refused to cooperate.


    ¡°Move¡­¡± he whispered, clenching his fists.


    Hours passed, and darkness enveloped the junkyard. The cold night wind bit into his skin, cutting through his clothes and chilling him to the bone.


    ¡°This is a nightmare,¡± he murmured weakly, barely moving his lips.


    His thoughts drifted. He remembered his father¡¯s stern gaze as he spoke of the curse. ¡°You can¡¯t afford weakness, son. It¡¯ll destroy you.¡±


    ¡°Maybe this is what he meant,¡± Izak thought, feeling his consciousness slip away.


    As the first rays of sunlight pierced the smoggy sky above the junkyard, Izak stirred. The cool light touched his face, bringing him back from the brink of unconsciousness. He was still lying on the ground, pinned by the crushing force. His body felt numb, and even the slightest movement sent shocks of pain through his limbs.


    ¡°Get up, kid,¡± a familiar voice called out.


    Filip stood at the edge of the Compression Zone, holding a steaming cup of coffee and looking down at him.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been lying there all night. Is this what you call training?¡± he asked, raising an eyebrow.


    ¡°How am I supposed to get up when this place is crushing me?!¡± Izak shouted, anger flaring despite his exhaustion.


    ¡°Because you¡¯re fighting with your body, not your soul,¡± Nowak replied calmly, glancing at his watch. ¡°It¡¯s not about muscles. It¡¯s about will. If you give up, the gravity will consume you.¡±


    As soon as they arrived, Nowak dropped something massive onto the ground with a loud thud. Izak stared at the hulking, rusted fragment of metallic wreckage that Filip had casually thrown. The jagged piece looked like it had once been part of a colossal ship or machine¡ªcracked, covered in rust, and scarred from an old fire. The teenager furrowed his brow, eyes sweeping over the enormous chunk of steel.


    ¡°This is your next task,¡± the director announced, planting his hands on his hips.


    ¡°You¡¯re joking, right?¡± Izak asked incredulously, looking between the wreckage and Nowak. ¡°That thing has to weigh half a ton!¡±


    ¡°Maybe more,¡± Filip replied with a faint smirk. ¡°But who¡¯s counting? Awakened don¡¯t measure weight¡ªthey focus on results.¡±


    Izak felt frustration bubble to the surface. Clenching his fists, he glared at the director, who seemed to find the situation far too amusing. Still, he had no choice. He had to try.


    He stepped closer to the wreckage, cautiously gripping it with both hands. The metal was cold, rough, and its jagged edges dug painfully into his palms. He bent his knees and took a deep breath.


    ¡°Alright, on three¡­¡± he muttered, trying to psych himself up.


    One¡­ Two¡­ Three!


    He tightened every muscle in his body and attempted to lift the wreck. It didn¡¯t budge. After a few moments of futile effort, his arms screamed in protest, forcing him to stop.


    ¡°This is impossible,¡± he said, straightening up and glaring at Filip. ¡°No one could lift this!¡±


    The director shrugged nonchalantly.


    ¡°You¡¯re just not trying hard enough. It¡¯s not about brute strength here.¡±


    ¡°Then what is it about?!¡± Izak barked, wiping sweat from his brow.


    ¡°Determination,¡± Nowak answered with a sly grin. ¡°And a little willpower.¡±


    Izak ground his teeth. He wasn¡¯t about to let Nowak have the last laugh. Once again, he crouched down, gripping the wreck more firmly. He pushed harder, channeling every ounce of strength he could muster. His entire body burned with effort, veins bulging across his arms and neck. The wreck still refused to move.


    ¡°Focus,¡± Filip called out, settling himself on a nearby pile of trash. ¡°Imagine that thing is blocking your path to something¡ªor someone¡ªyou care about deeply.¡±


    Izak closed his eyes, his breath heavy and uneven. Images of Marcin and Nadzieja flashed through his mind¡ªtheir faces, their screams. The curse. It all still weighed heavily on his heart.


    Tightening his grip on the wreckage, he pushed with all his might. This time, the metal shifted. The grating sound of rusted steel echoed across the junkyard. Slowly, painfully, he lifted it a few centimeters off the ground. Then a few more. Every fiber of his being screamed in agony, but he refused to stop.


    ¡°Now we¡¯re getting somewhere,¡± Filip said approvingly.


    After several grueling seconds, Izak finally hoisted the wreckage to waist height. His legs trembled like jelly, and his arms felt like they were on fire, but he held on.


    ¡°Phew¡­ I did it,¡± he gasped, dropping the wreck with a loud crash.


    ¡°That¡¯s just the beginning,¡± the director quipped as he stood up. ¡°You¡¯re taking it with you.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Izak wheezed, staring at him in disbelief.


    ¡°We¡¯re heading to the Compression Zone,¡± Nowak announced with a grin.


    The Compression Zone


    Nowak led Izak to a nightmarish expanse of flattened earth marked by deep impressions of crushed metal.


    ¡°This,¡± Filip explained, gesturing at the desolate area, ¡°is the Compression Zone. Here, waste is compacted using variable gravity. Your task is to cross the entire field while carrying that wreck.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve got to be kidding me,¡± Izak muttered, looking at Filip with a mix of disbelief and dread.


    ¡°Not at all,¡± the director said. ¡°If you fall or drop the wreck, you¡¯ll get flattened.¡±


    Izak glanced at the field, then at the wreck, and finally at Nowak. There was no way out of this. Taking a deep breath, he braced himself, hoisted the wreck again, and stepped onto the field.


    The moment he entered, he felt the gravity shift. Each step required immense effort, and the weight in his arms seemed to double. After just a few meters, his knees began to buckle.


    ¡°Imagine your life is waiting for you at the other end of this field,¡± Nowak called from the edge. ¡°If you don¡¯t make it, you¡¯ll never get it back!¡±


    Izak trudged forward, ignoring the burning in his muscles. When he reached the middle of the field, the gravity spiked suddenly, forcing him to his knees. The wreck dropped beside him with a deafening clang.


    ¡°I can¡¯t give up,¡± he thought, his breath ragged.


    He tried to push himself to his knees, but the crushing force pinned him down. The wreck, which had seemed heavy before, now felt immovable. He could feel the invisible pressure pressing him into the ground, stealing the last shreds of his strength.


    ¡°Get up!¡± he growled through clenched teeth, willing his body to move.


    But nothing happened. The gravity held him fast, suffocating his determination. His breaths grew shallow, and each twitch of his muscles sent searing pain through his body.


    His mind raced. ¡°Is this how it ends? Will this curse claim me too, right here?¡± He saw Marcin and Nadzieja again¡ªtheir terrified faces, their screams echoing in his head.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Tears welled up in his eyes. ¡°I can¡¯t let them down. I can¡¯t give up!¡± he repeated to himself, even as his body refused to cooperate.


    ¡°Move¡­¡± he whispered, clenching his fists.


    The Dawn of Determination


    Hours passed, and darkness enveloped the junkyard. As the first rays of sunlight pierced the smoggy sky, Izak stirred.


    ¡°Get up, kid,¡± a familiar voice called out.


    Filip stood at the edge of the Compression Zone, holding a steaming cup of coffee and looking down at him.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been lying there all night. Is this what you call training?¡± he asked, raising an eyebrow.


    ¡°How am I supposed to get up when this place is crushing me?!¡± Izak shouted, anger flaring despite his exhaustion.


    ¡°Because you¡¯re fighting with your body, not your soul,¡± Nowak replied calmly. ¡°It¡¯s not about muscles. It¡¯s about will. If you give up, the gravity will consume you.¡±


    The director¡¯s words sounded mocking, but something in his tone ignited a spark in Izak. Clenching his fists, he focused on one goal: to stand up.


    ¡°If I don¡¯t get up now, they¡¯ll never forgive me,¡± he thought, imagining his friends waiting for him to succeed.


    Slowly, inch by inch, he began to lift his hands, then his legs. His body screamed in pain, but his will to fight burned brighter. After what felt like an eternity, he managed to kneel. The gravity still pressed down, but this time, he felt like he had the upper hand.


    He lifted the wreck. His arms trembled, but he stood tall.


    Filip looked at him with approval.


    ¡°Now you¡¯re starting to get it.¡±


    Without saying a word, Izak began walking. Every step was a battle against the force trying to hold him back. But this time, he didn¡¯t give up. After an hour, he reached the end of the Compression Zone and dropped the wreck with a thunderous crash.


    He collapsed to his knees, barely able to breathe.


    ¡°Well done, Pi?sudski,¡± Nowak said, stepping closer. ¡°You¡¯ve just taken another step toward real strength.¡±


    ¡°Will¡­ there¡­ be¡­ more¡­ of these¡­ steps?¡± Izak wheezed, staring at the director in disbelief.


    ¡°Of course. Training¡¯s just getting started,¡± Filip replied with a smile. ¡°But first¡­ eat something. You look half-dead.¡±


    The director tossed him an energy drink and a sandwich. Exhausted but relieved, Izak took them. For the first time in a while, he felt like he¡¯d achieved something meaningful. For the first time, he felt like he was truly fighting the curse.


    Filip stood with his arms crossed, observing Izak, who was glaring at him with suspicion.


    ¡°Next stage,¡± the director began, pointing to a circle made of small stones. Inside the ring lay a few charred branches, as though someone had recently burned a campfire. ¡°This time, no lifting, no running, and no radiation.¡±


    A flicker of hope crossed the boy¡¯s face.


    ¡°So... finally, a normal training session?¡±


    ¡°If meditating in the middle of a junkyard counts as normal,¡± Filip replied with a grin.


    Izak sighed heavily but moved to the indicated spot.


    ¡°And now what?¡±


    ¡°You sit down, close your eyes, and try to enter a state of full concentration. The goal is simple: sharpen all five senses. You need to feel every sound, scent, and shift in the air around you. So much so that you know what¡¯s happening, even with your eyes closed.¡±


    ¡°That sounds like something out of a movie,¡± the boy muttered as he sat cross-legged.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t a movie. It¡¯s your life,¡± Nowak said, his gaze cutting through him. ¡°You need to learn how to see and feel more than ordinary people. And that requires stillness and focus.¡±


    Izak closed his eyes, attempting to steady his breathing. But the chaos around him immediately fought back. The buzz of flies, the rustling wind, the distant hum of machinery¡ªeverything seemed louder, more intrusive.


    ¡°This is impossible,¡± he groaned after a moment, reopening his eyes. ¡°How am I supposed to focus in this noise?¡±


    Filip smirked faintly.


    ¡°That¡¯s the point. You have to learn to ignore the chaos and concentrate on what matters. Try again.¡±


    The boy sighed but shut his eyes once more. This time, he didn¡¯t fight the noise. He let it wash over him, allowing the sounds to exist without clinging to them. Instead of focusing on what distracted him, he began listening for what might be important.


    Minutes passed. Maybe hours. Izak lost track of time, but eventually, something shifted within him. The external world began to quiet. All the noises became a distant hum, like waves crashing far off on a shore. In their place, he sensed something else¡ªpresence.


    With his eyes closed, he could feel exactly where Filip was standing, how the stones were arranged around him, and even the acrid smell of rotting waste and chemicals hanging in the air. It was as if all his senses had been dialed up to a new level.


    He opened his eyes.


    The world around him was different. He didn¡¯t just see the junkyard; he saw something beyond it¡ªdelicate streams of energy swirling in the air. Every object seemed wrapped in a faint, pulsing aura. In the distance, he spotted what looked like a blurred silhouette moving in the shadows, even though there was no sound.


    He turned to look at Filip, whose outline glowed with a soft, yellowish light.


    ¡°What... what is this?¡± he asked quietly, stunned by what he was seeing.


    ¡°This is the world only the Awakened can see,¡± the director replied, looking at him with a touch of admiration. ¡°You¡¯ve just learned to perceive what ordinary people never will.¡±


    ¡°This is... incredible,¡± Izak whispered, staring at his hands, which were also surrounded by a faint glow.


    Filip smiled faintly.


    ¡°Impressive, isn¡¯t it? But don¡¯t get too excited. This is just the beginning.¡±


    The boy turned to him, still trying to process the new way he was seeing the world.


    ¡°How long was I out for? A few minutes?¡±


    ¡°A few hours,¡± Nowak answered, leaning against a nearby car wreck. ¡°That¡¯s the effect of deep concentration. Once you master control over your senses, you¡¯ll be able to enter this state anytime, even in the middle of a fight.¡±


    Izak collapsed onto the ground, overwhelmed by both the experience and the realization of how much time had passed.


    ¡°This... is insane.¡±


    Filip observed him with visible approval. His usually mocking grin was replaced by a more serious expression.


    ¡°I can see you like it,¡± he added, folding his arms. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect you to enter the state this quickly. You¡¯ve really surprised me.¡±


    The boy glanced at him, still trying to adjust to his new perception of the world.


    ¡°It¡¯s... it¡¯s like stepping into another dimension. I¡¯ve never experienced anything like this before.¡±


    The director nodded.


    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s certainly impressive. But now, we need to do something just as important.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Izak asked, furrowing his brow.


    Filip smiled faintly, though a warning glimmered in his eyes.


    ¡°Teach you how to turn it off.¡±


    The boy blinked, confused.


    ¡°Turn it off? Why would I do that? This is... amazing! I can see things I couldn¡¯t before. Everything is so vivid, so... different.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s exactly why you need to control it,¡± Nowak interrupted. ¡°This state drains a massive amount of energy. If you keep it up constantly, you¡¯ll exhaust yourself faster than you think. At best, you¡¯ll faint. At worst... well, let¡¯s just say you don¡¯t want to find out.¡±


    A chill ran down Izak¡¯s spine.


    ¡°You¡¯re telling me this... isn¡¯t safe?¡±


    Filip patted him on the shoulder.


    ¡°It¡¯s not about safety. It¡¯s a tool. You use it when you need it, then you put it away. Like a sword. You don¡¯t walk around holding a sword all the time, do you?¡±


    Filip stood with his arms crossed, watching Izak, who eyed him with suspicion.


    ¡°The next stage,¡± the director began, gesturing to a circle of small stones. Inside the ring lay a few charred branches, as if a campfire had recently been lit there. ¡°This time, no lifting, no running, no radiation.¡±


    A hint of hope lit up the boy¡¯s face.


    ¡°So... finally, a normal training session?¡±


    ¡°If meditating in the middle of a junkyard counts as normal,¡± Filip replied with a grin.


    Izak let out a heavy sigh but moved to the designated spot.


    ¡°And now what?¡±


    ¡°You sit down, close your eyes, and try to enter a state of full concentration. The goal is simple: sharpen all five senses. You need to feel every sound, scent, and shift in the air around you. Enough to know exactly what¡¯s happening, even with your eyes closed.¡±


    ¡°That sounds like something out of a movie,¡± the boy muttered as he sat cross-legged.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t a movie¡ªit¡¯s your life,¡± Nowak replied sharply, his gaze piercing. ¡°You need to learn to see and feel more than ordinary people. And that requires stillness and focus.¡±


    Izak shut his eyes, attempting to steady his breathing. But the chaos around him quickly crept in. The buzz of flies, the whisper of wind, the distant hum of machinery¡ªeverything felt louder, more intrusive.


    ¡°This is impossible,¡± he groaned, reopening his eyes. ¡°How am I supposed to focus with all this noise?¡±


    Filip smirked slightly.


    ¡°That¡¯s the test. You have to learn to ignore the chaos and focus on what matters. Try again.¡±


    The boy sighed but closed his eyes once more. This time, he didn¡¯t fight the noise. He let it wash over him, allowing the sounds to exist without grabbing his attention. Instead of focusing on what distracted him, he began to listen for what truly mattered.


    Minutes passed. Maybe hours. Time became irrelevant as something inside him shifted. The external world began to quiet. The noise dulled to a faint hum, like distant waves breaking on a shore. In its place, he felt something new¡ªpresence.


    With his eyes closed, Izak could sense exactly where Filip was standing, how the stones around him were arranged, even the acrid smell of rotting waste and chemicals lingering in the air. It was as if his senses had been turned up to a new level.


    He opened his eyes.


    The world around him was different. He didn¡¯t just see the junkyard¡ªhe saw something beyond it. Delicate streams of energy swirled in the air. Every object seemed wrapped in a faint, pulsing aura. In the distance, he spotted what looked like a blurred silhouette moving in the shadows, even though no sound accompanied it.


    He turned to Filip, whose outline glowed faintly with a yellowish light.


    ¡°What... what is this?¡± he asked quietly, stunned by what he was seeing.


    ¡°This is the world only the Awakened can see,¡± the director replied, his voice carrying a hint of pride. ¡°You¡¯ve just learned to perceive what ordinary people never will.¡±


    ¡°This is... incredible,¡± Izak whispered, staring at his hands, which were also surrounded by a soft glow.


    Filip smiled faintly.


    ¡°Impressive, isn¡¯t it? But don¡¯t get too excited. This is just the beginning.¡±


    The boy turned to him, still trying to process this new vision of the world.


    ¡°How long was I... like that? A few minutes?¡±


    ¡°A few hours,¡± Nowak answered, leaning casually against a nearby car wreck. ¡°That¡¯s the effect of deep concentration. Once you master control over your senses, you¡¯ll be able to enter this state anytime, even in the heat of battle.¡±


    Izak collapsed onto the ground, overwhelmed by the experience and the realization of how much time had passed.


    ¡°This... is insane.¡±


    Filip observed him with visible approval. His usual smirk gave way to a more serious expression.


    ¡°I can see you¡¯re impressed,¡± he added, folding his arms. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect you to enter this state so quickly. You¡¯ve really surprised me.¡±


    The boy looked up at him, still struggling to adjust to this new perception of reality.


    ¡°It¡¯s... like stepping into another dimension. I¡¯ve never experienced anything like it before.¡±


    The director nodded.


    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s incredible. But now we need to do something just as important.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Izak asked, his brow furrowed.


    Filip smiled faintly, though a warning flickered in his eyes.


    ¡°Teach you how to turn it off.¡±


    The boy blinked, confused.


    ¡°Turn it off? Why would I do that? This is... amazing! I can see things I couldn¡¯t before. Everything is so vivid, so... different.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s exactly why you need to control it,¡± Nowak interrupted. ¡°This state burns through energy like nothing else. If you stay like this all the time, you¡¯ll wear yourself out faster than you can imagine. At best, you¡¯ll faint. At worst... let¡¯s just say you don¡¯t want to know.¡±


    A cold chill ran down Izak¡¯s spine.


    ¡°You¡¯re saying this... isn¡¯t safe?¡±


    Filip clapped him on the shoulder.


    ¡°It¡¯s not about safety. It¡¯s a tool. You use it when you need it, then put it away. Like a sword. You don¡¯t walk around holding a sword all the time, do you?¡±


    ¡°Well... no,¡± Izak admitted, scratching the back of his head.


    ¡°Exactly. So now you need to learn how to ¡®sheathe the sword.¡¯ What you¡¯re seeing and feeling in this state is intense. Too intense. If you can¡¯t control it, you might lose your grip on reality.¡±


    The boy let out a sigh but nodded.


    ¡°Alright. How do I do that?¡±


    Filip pointed to the spot where Izak had been meditating earlier.


    ¡°Sit back down. Close your eyes. Focus on your breathing and try to imagine everything you¡¯re seeing and feeling as something you can put in a box. Close the box and set it aside.¡±


    Izak gave him a skeptical look.


    ¡°A box? Seriously?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t question my genius. Just do it,¡± Nowak replied, his smirk returning.


    The boy sighed again but returned to his spot and sat down. He closed his eyes and tried to focus.


    In his mind, he visualized the world he¡¯d just seen¡ªfull of pulsing energy, amplified sounds, and vivid scents¡ªas a large, glowing image. Slowly, he began condensing that image, shrinking it into a small, manageable shape. He imagined placing it in a box and setting it on a shelf.


    Minutes passed. Slowly, he opened his eyes.


    The world had returned to normal. The glowing streams of energy were gone, and his heightened senses had dimmed. All he saw now were piles of junk and Filip standing before him.


    ¡°Well?¡± the director asked.


    Izak looked at him and smiled faintly.


    ¡°Normal. Everything¡¯s back to how it used to be.¡±


    Filip nodded approvingly.


    ¡°Good. Now you know how to turn it on and off. But remember¡ªthis is a tool, not a toy. Use it wisely.¡±


    The boy met his gaze, determination shining in his eyes.


    ¡°Got it. I understand.¡±


    Filip paused, studying Izak as if evaluating whether the boy could handle the next challenge.


    ¡°You¡¯ve done more today than I expected,¡± he finally said, a hint of amusement in his voice. ¡°Take the day off. Rest up before I break you again.¡±


    Izak stared at him in disbelief.


    ¡°Seriously? No catch?¡±


    The director raised his hands in mock surrender.


    ¡°No catch. Just enjoy it while you can. But don¡¯t think for a second this means the fun is over.¡±


    Exhausted from the grueling days of training, Izak didn¡¯t need any more convincing. He returned to his dorm, jumped into the shower, and let the hot water wash away the grime and fatigue.


    The entire day was spent unwinding. He booted up his computer and lost himself in his favorite game, reconnecting with his guildmates. The hours of shared battles felt like therapy, letting him forget the intensity of his training.


    Later, he went for a run, reveling in the newfound lightness of his body. Every step felt more fluid, every breath deeper. The city, once mundane, now seemed alive with potential, as if its streets were calling him to explore.


    By evening, thoroughly spent, he collapsed into bed and drifted into a deep sleep.


    The next morning, Filip was waiting for him at dawn, brimming with his usual energy.


    ¡°Ready for the final stage?¡± he asked, tossing Izak a bottle of water.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll ever be ready for whatever you come up with,¡± Izak muttered, though his voice carried a steely resolve.


    This time, the training was different. It wasn¡¯t about lifting weights, running, or meditating. Filip focused on real-world scenarios, pushing Izak to apply everything he¡¯d learned.


    Each day brought a new challenge¡ªtracking Filip through a bustling city using his heightened senses, dodging stones the director hurled at him while relying on instinct and sight in darkness, or making split-second decisions in elaborate simulations.


    Weeks passed, each one as demanding as the last. But with every challenge, Izak grew stronger, faster, and sharper.


    On the final day of summer, Izak woke to sunlight streaming through his window. Stretching, he felt a satisfying ache in his muscles¡ªdifferent from the crippling fatigue of his early training days.


    The clock read 6:00 a.m.


    ¡°This is it,¡± he said to himself, sitting up.


    The exam. The first step toward the Awakened school.


    After a quick breakfast, he stood before the mirror. Determination blazed in his eyes¡ªa look he hadn¡¯t seen before.


    ¡°No matter what happens, I¡¯m ready,¡± he thought.


    He laced up his shoes, slung his bag over his shoulder, and stepped outside, prepared for whatever awaited him.

 Reconciliation

    Pilsudski knew today would be tough, but he felt ready. After months of struggling with himself, he had decided to close a chapter of his life.


    After a quick breakfast and a brief glance at his phone, Izak grabbed a white rose and a can of energy drink from the table¡ªitems he had prepared the day before¡ªand left his house. The streets were already bustling with people, but he ignored the surroundings, focusing solely on his destination: the cemetery where his friends rested.


    Upon arrival, a knot tightened in his stomach. The cemetery was silent, shrouded in the gentle whisper of the wind. He stopped in front of Nadzieja¡¯s gravestone, a simple marble slab engraved with her name, dates, and the words: ¡°You will always remain in our hearts.¡± Fresh flowers lay on the stone, surrounded by numerous flickering candles. It was clear that her memory was still alive among her loved ones.


    Kneeling down, he placed the rose gently on the stone. For a moment, he couldn¡¯t say anything, but then he summoned his courage.


    ¡°Nadzieja... I¡¯m sorry,¡± he whispered, his voice barely audible. ¡°For everything. For not being able to protect you. For the pain you had to endure because of me. I just... I just wanted you to be happy.¡±


    He stared at the inscription, feeling tears well up in his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he tried to steady himself.


    ¡°I hope that wherever you are now, it¡¯s a better place. I promise I won¡¯t waste the second chance I¡¯ve been given.¡±


    Slowly, he rose to his feet, his gaze lingering briefly on the polished surface of the gravestone. Wiping his face, he moved a few rows over to Marcin¡¯s grave.


    Marcin¡¯s resting place was far more modest, reflecting his humble personality. Izak knelt before the gravestone, pulled out the energy drink, and placed it on the marble slab. There were no wreaths or fresh flowers, just a single burnt-out candle. Marcin, who had grown up in an orphanage, didn¡¯t have a family to regularly visit his grave.


    ¡°Hey, Marcin,¡± Izak began, forcing a weak smile. ¡°I brought your favorite energy drink. You probably think I¡¯m an idiot for this, but whatever. I know you liked it, so I figured it¡¯s better than flowers. Besides, you always said you didn¡¯t like things getting too sentimental.¡±


    He ran his hand across the cold surface of the gravestone, his smile tinged with sadness.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if you can hear me, but I need to say this: forgiving myself isn¡¯t easy. I survived what happened, but that doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯ve forgotten. Every day, I think about what I could¡¯ve done differently. Maybe if I¡¯d been faster, stronger... Maybe then you¡¯d still be here.¡±


    His gaze dropped as a lump formed in his throat. Yet, after a moment, the faint smile returned.


    ¡°But I promised you once that I wouldn¡¯t dwell on the past, so... you¡¯re right. It¡¯s time to move forward. I don¡¯t know what¡¯s ahead, but I won¡¯t give up. You know I¡¯ve never liked losing, and this time, the stakes are higher than ever.¡±


    Rising to his feet, he cast one last glance at his friend¡¯s grave.


    ¡°Rest in peace, old friend. I promise to keep fighting until the end. Maybe we¡¯ll meet again someday, but I¡¯m in no rush. I¡¯ve got a lot left to do.¡±


    With that resolve in his heart, Izak turned and left the cemetery, feeling for the first time in a long while that he had made peace with his past and was ready to face the future. He headed toward the school for the Awakened.


    The city was alive with energy, but something in the air felt different¡ªheavy and tense. Izak noticed people moving faster than usual. Within minutes, the wailing of sirens pierced the air.


    Pilsudski froze. He knew that sound all too well¡ªit meant only one thing: a mutant had entered the city. He remembered it was the last day of summer break, a time when temporal rifts were at their most unstable. These tears in reality allowed monstrous creatures to cross into their world¡ªhorrifying abominations that destroyed everything in their path.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    Unlike the chaos of a recent terrorist attack, the people around him acted with practiced precision. They knew the drill¡ªthis was a frequent occurrence. Some rushed to marked shelter entrances, others helped the elderly and children, and all around, voices barked commands. Guards in exoskeletons were already setting up protective barriers, directing civilians to safety. Patrol drones filled the sky, scanning the area.


    For a moment, Izak stood in awe, mixed with unease. ¡°They¡¯ve really got this under control,¡± he thought, though a creeping anxiety lingered. ¡°The exam will definitely be canceled,¡± he mused, starting toward the nearest shelter. But before he could take another step, his phone buzzed.


    The screen read ¡°Idiot,¡± indicating a call from Filip. Izak answered, struggling to keep his voice steady.


    ¡°Where are you going, genius?¡± Filip¡¯s familiar, sarcastic voice asked.


    ¡°To the shelter, obviously!¡± Izak replied. ¡°The sirens mean mutants are in the city. The exam has to be canceled, right?¡±


    Filip sighed, as if dealing with a particularly stubborn child.


    ¡°Canceled? Of course not. The exam proceeds as planned. My school has a protective barrier; mutants can¡¯t get in.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s insane!¡± Izak protested. ¡°What if I¡¯m late?¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re late, you can¡¯t take the exam,¡± Filip replied with a tone that brooked no argument. ¡°So you¡¯d better hurry. You¡¯re wasting time.¡±


    Swallowing hard, Izak glanced toward the school. For a moment, he hesitated, but then clenched his fists and broke into a run.


    The city was in full lockdown. The streets were chaotic, though the orderly actions of the emergency teams lent an air of control. Overhead, groups of mutants¡ªgrotesque hybrids of reptiles and insects¡ªdarted through the sky. Their membranous wings cast eerie shadows, and their shrill screeches tore through the air.


    ¡°Focus, Izak. They¡¯re just overgrown pigeons,¡± he told himself, quickening his pace. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, helping him ignore the danger.


    But as he neared the school, a scream stopped him in his tracks.


    Turning, he saw a woman and her child cornered in an alley by one of the smaller mutants¡ªa creature resembling a massive lizard with spiked armor. Its predatory movements left no doubt about its intent.


    Izak hesitated. Every second of delay could mean their death. But intervening would risk him missing the exam, his only shot at a better life. ¡°Sometimes you have to sacrifice your own goals,¡± he thought, recalling Nadzieja¡¯s words. Without hesitation, he charged toward the mutant.


    The creature noticed him, letting out a guttural growl. It was fast¡ªfaster than Izak expected. He barely dodged its attack, the beast¡¯s claws slicing through the air inches from his face.


    Grabbing a discarded metal pipe, he swung at the creature, striking its armored hide. The impact barely left a scratch. The mutant hissed and lunged again, slashing at him. This time, its claws tore through his hoodie, leaving a deep gash on his arm.


    ¡°Damn it!¡± Izak cursed, stumbling back. Blood seeped from the wound, but he didn¡¯t have time to think about the pain.


    The mutant prepared another strike, but Izak took a deep breath, focusing on what he had learned in training. Ignoring the pain, he dashed forward, dodging its attack and aiming for its eye. His strike landed, and the beast recoiled with a deafening screech.


    ¡°Take that!¡± Izak shouted, seizing the opportunity. With all his strength, he slammed the pipe into the creature¡¯s exposed neck. The mutant collapsed, its body convulsing briefly before going still.


    Breathing heavily, Izak knelt, clutching his wounded arm. The woman and child stared at him in shock.


    ¡°Get to the shelter. Now,¡± he urged, pointing the way. The woman nodded, grabbing her child and running.


    Izak struggled to his feet, forcing himself toward the school.


    When he arrived, he saw the glowing barrier protecting the campus, mutants futilely slamming against it. Beyond the shield, everything seemed calm¡ªa different world entirely. He glanced at the clock above the entrance.


    He was ten minutes late.

 The Darkest Darkness

    The School for the Awakened loomed over the city like a silent guardian. The massive, multi-story building, built within the monumental skeleton of a dragon-like mutant, drew every gaze with its uniqueness. The gleaming white bones of the giant seemed to tell a story of an ancient battle, echoing through the structure''s very essence. Between the creature''s ribcage rose modern glass walls reflecting the city''s panorama. The spine of the skeleton housed an observation tower, pulsing with the protective barrier''s light, making the school look like a citadel guarding humanity against the dangers of the rifts.


    Even though he was late, Izak refused to give up. He sprinted into the school, trying to locate room 1256. The place was enormous, a labyrinth of hallways and staircases. "Who even designs buildings like this?" he thought, dashing past a crowd of other candidates.


    Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a line of people. Thankfully, it was the queue for his assigned room. The crowd was so large that not everyone had entered yet. Pilsudski joined the line, clutching his throbbing arm.


    "Lucky break..." he thought with relief, though the pain of his wound gnawed at him.


    When it was finally his turn to enter, an examiner stopped him. A tall man with a stern face glanced at his torn clothing and makeshift bandage.


    "You look like you just walked out of a fight," he remarked, raising an eyebrow. "Maybe you should try again next year? We wouldn¡¯t want you fainting mid-exam."


    "I can handle it!" Izak replied, clenching his fists as if to prove his determination.


    The examiner sighed and gestured for a nurse to tend to him. She quickly applied a fresh bandage and gave him painkillers.


    "Suit yourself," the man muttered, resigned. "But remember, it''s your risk."


    Pilsudski nodded and entered the room. It was vast, filled with hundreds of people of all ages¡ªfrom teenagers to middle-aged adults, and even one elderly man with a stout build and weary eyes.


    "What¡¯s going on here?" Izak wondered as he found his seat.


    There was no time to dwell on it. Three examiners in black suits entered the room. Their footsteps echoed in the spacious hall, and the murmuring crowd quickly fell silent.


    The man in the center, with sharp features and unnaturally pale eyes, raised his hand.


    "Due to the large turnout, the exam has been slightly delayed," he announced in a calm but commanding voice. "It is now 9:20. You have 60 minutes to complete the test. Begin."


    At this signal, everyone flipped over the sheets on their desks. Pilsudski did the same, only to find his sheet... blank.


    "What the...?" he muttered, glancing around in confusion.


    Similar whispers and murmurs of discontent rippled through the room. Some raised their hands, others shifted uneasily.


    "You won¡¯t need pens," the examiner declared.


    Suddenly, a dark energy began emanating from him, intense and suffocating. The light in the room was consumed, plunging everything into a pitch-black void¡ªdarker than Izak had ever experienced.


    Screams and pleas for light erupted among the candidates.


    "What the hell is this?!" Pilsudski thought, cold sweat running down his back.


    The examiners radiated an oppressive energy, sending eerie vibrations through the room, almost physically crushing those present. Some participants collapsed, unable to endure the pressure.


    Izak gritted his teeth. "It¡¯s just like when Filip made me withstand radiation. I have to get through this!" he resolved, steadying his breathing and clearing his mind.


    Soon, he managed to enter a heightened sensory state. Only then did he notice what had been invisible before¡ªthree streams of spiritual energy emanating from his blank sheet: blue, yellow, and red.


    "Is this... magic?" he wondered, trying to decipher the task.


    A sudden sense of danger snapped him out of his thoughts. He turned to see floating eyeballs gliding silently through the room, searching like hunters in the dark.


    One eye stopped near a woman¡¯s desk, and the examiner''s voice echoed ominously:


    "Participant number 275 is disqualified. Reason: cheating."


    The woman began to protest, but a black vortex opened beneath her feet, swallowing her in an instant.


    Pilsudski froze, realizing the purpose of these eyes. "So, I have to solve this while dodging those things? Great..."


    He observed what others were doing. A young boy with a purple aura was blending the energies on his sheet to create new colors. Izak tried to mimic the technique but sensed an eye approaching him.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    "I need to be careful... there are so many of them."


    When the eye moved away, he returned to his task. He intuitively combined the energies, creating different hues. The process was painstaking and demanded extreme focus, but Pilsudski knew this was his only shot. There was no room for hesitation. Ignoring the throbbing pain in his arm, he poured every ounce of effort into manipulating the energies. Finally, he realized the solution¡ªto create all the colors of the rainbow and arrange them in the correct sequence.


    As the gong signaling the end of the exam rang out, Izak collapsed into his chair, wiping sweat from his brow.


    Afterward, all participants were directed to a waiting area. The room buzzed with chatter¡ªpeople sharing their impressions, complaining about the exam''s difficulty, or fretting over their results.


    Ten minutes later, results began streaming in via a communicator. Despite the pain in his arm, Pilsudski felt a wave of relief when he heard his name among those who passed.


    The highest score went to the boy with the purple aura. "I wonder who he is..." Izak mused, intrigued.


    As the crowd moved toward the next room for class assignments, Pilsudski followed.


    Suddenly, a hand clamped onto his shoulder.


    "And where do you think you¡¯re going, kid?" a familiar, mocking voice asked.


    Izak turned to see Filip grinning at him.


    "To my class?" he replied, confused.


    Filip raised an eyebrow.


    "Your class? I think you misunderstood. I entered you into the elite class exam. That was just the first stage."


    Pilsudski stared at him, stunned.


    "What?! Are you serious?!"


    The elite class was reserved for those with exceptional potential and unbreakable determination. Its entrance exam was held once every four years, as there could only be one active group of such students. It was both an honor and a monumental challenge¡ªgraduates of the elite class often became leaders in military or government roles, defending humanity against rift threats.


    But joining the elite class came with immense risk. The training was grueling, and students faced life-threatening situations during their education. Missions in actual rift zones tested their skills and resilience to the limit.


    Filip shrugged.


    "Maybe you should¡¯ve read the documents you signed."


    Izak clenched his fists.


    "How did you convince my mom?!"


    Filip¡¯s grin widened.


    "I told her you¡¯d finally found a purpose in life and wanted to become a general like your dad. And, well, I might¡¯ve... stretched the truth a little. Just a tiny bit, to keep her from worrying."


    Pilsudski sighed heavily but met Filip¡¯s gaze with newfound resolve.


    "So, what now?"


    Filip chuckled.


    "Now you face two more exams. Better prepare yourself, kid."


    Filip led Izak through the school¡¯s corridors to the waiting area where the second stage of the exam was about to begin. The building was massive, with its modern interiors contrasting sharply with the raw skeleton of the dragon-like mutant that housed the school. Glass walls reflected the light of the protective barriers, and the halls were filled with an eerie silence, broken only by the faint echo of footsteps.


    Finally, they reached a spacious hall teeming with candidates. This was where Izak would wait for the next part of the exam to start. The headmaster stopped at the entrance, glancing at him with a smirk.


    "Good luck, kid. And remember¡ªwatch your step, not every path leads to the goal," he said, then walked off, humming a tune under his breath.


    Izak sighed and glanced around the room. Among the crowd, he spotted a familiar figure from the first exam¡ªa boy with a violet soul. He stood out among the others. His hair was curly, one side brown, the other white, and paired with violet eyes, it gave him a unique appearance. Beneath each eye was a small mole, and his outfit was completed with a striking red scarf that seemed utterly out of place in the sweltering summer heat.


    The boy sat in the corner, arms crossed, as if waiting for something. Izak decided to approach him.


    "Hey. We were in the same room for the first exam, right? Congrats¡ªtop score," he said with a small smile, trying to strike up a conversation.


    The young man raised his gaze, a hint of an ironic smile appearing on his face.


    "Well, well. I didn¡¯t expect someone from the illustrious Pilsudski family to speak to me," he said, his tone cool but tinged with curiosity.


    Izak frowned, confused.


    "Illustrious family? What are you talking about?"


    The boy chuckled softly, his violet eyes gleaming in the light.


    "Don¡¯t play dumb. Your family name is well-known among the Awakened. Your father was one of the most powerful generals. And now you, his heir, are entering the game."


    Izak felt a strange stir within him. His father rarely spoke of his past, let alone his position among the Awakened. Before he could respond, the boy continued:


    "I saw you copying my technique during the exam. Clever, though not very original."


    Pilsudski¡¯s cheeks flushed slightly.


    "Copying?" he scoffed, trying to mask his embarrassment. "I was just inspired."


    The violet-eyed boy raised an eyebrow, his smile growing more mischievous.


    "Of course. Call it what you like. But let¡¯s be honest¡ªyou wouldn¡¯t have passed without my help."


    Izak clenched his fists but took a deep breath, trying to keep his composure.


    "Maybe I was inspired, but I did the work. If you were in my position, you¡¯d probably do the same."


    The boy studied him for a moment, then shrugged.


    "Maybe. But it doesn¡¯t matter. The exam is just the beginning. I¡¯m curious to see if you live up to your family name or end up like the rest of the mediocrities."


    "We¡¯ll see about that," Izak replied with determination, meeting the boy¡¯s violet eyes.


    The young man¡¯s grin widened.


    "I hope so. It¡¯d be boring if you disappointed me."


    Izak didn¡¯t respond. He felt like this conversation was a game where every word carried more weight than it seemed. But one thing was certain¡ªthis interaction had only motivated him further.


    Suddenly, a loud chime echoed through the room, signaling the start of the next stage of the exam.