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The Civil School loomed at the edge of District 7, its polished marble spires catching the golden light of the late afternoon sun. Nestled in a quiet corner of the city, where cobblestone alleys twisted like veins, the school was a beacon of hope for the newly awakened. Its sprawling campus, with ivy-clad walls and manicured gardens, whispered promises of power and prestige. Crystal-clear windows reflected the bustling training grounds, where students sparred, their mana flaring in bursts of light and color. The air hummed with the faint pulse of mana, a reminder of the school's purpose: to mold the awakened into warriors capable of facing the monster that plagued the world beyond the city's barriers.
But not all corners of the school sparkled with promise. In the shadow of a narrow alley, tucked behind the alchemy labs, a different scene unfolded. Three students—broad-shouldered, smirking, their uniforms crisp with the insignia of Initiate rank—circled a lone figure crumpled against the wall. The boy, Rune Kael Voss was sixteen, small for his age, with dark hair plastered to his forehead from sweat and a faint trickle of blood from his split lip. His gray eyes burned with defiance, though his body ached from the blows raining down on him.
"Trash," sneered Joren, the tallest of the trio, his voice dripping with contempt. He drove his boot into Rune's side, eliciting a sharp grunt. "Still stuck at Level 1, huh? Awakened rank. Pathetic. You're not even worth the mana it takes to spit on you."
The other two laughed, their voices echoing off the alley's stone walls. Kael, wiry and quick, grabbed Rune by the collar and yanked him up. "What's it like, huh? Knowing you'll never be anything but a failure? You can't even kill a feralsoul pup without tripping over your own feet."
Rune's jaw clenched, but he said nothing. His stats flashed in his mind, as they often did in moments like this, a cruel reminder of his stagnation:
**Name**: Rune Kael Voss
**Level**: 1
**Rank**: Awakened
**Age**: 16
**Race**: Human
**Stats**:
- Strength: F
- Agility: F
- Intelligence: F+
- Mana: F+
- Dexterity: F
**Skills**:
F Rank – [Shadow Flicker]
Description: The user learns to blend into natural shadows, making their presence slightly harder to detect.
Effect: Slightly reduces visibility in dim environments. Footsteps become quieter when moving in shade.
Limitation: Does not work in bright or well-lit areas.
He'd chosen [Shadow Flicker] a year ago, when the Civil School handed out F-rank skills to the newly awakened. At fifteen, every child in the city underwent the Awakening, a ritual that unlocked their mana and set them on the path to power. Most of his classmates had surged forward, their stats climbing, their ranks rising to Initiate within months. They'd earned E-rank skills, flashy techniques like [Flame Burst] or [Wind Slash], and now stood on the cusp of joining one of the seven prestigious Union Associate Institutions. But Rune? He was stuck. No matter how many feralsouls he killed in the school's training nests—cages filled with captured monsters—he couldn't level up. His stats refused to budge. The school had all but written him off, and his classmates saw him as a punching bag, a living reminder of what failure looked like.
"Say something, trash!" Kael shoved Rune back against the wall, his fist raised. "Or are you too weak to even talk?"
Rune's hands curled into fists, his nails biting into his palms. He wanted to fight back, to prove them wrong, but his body betrayed him. Strength: F. Agility: F. He was no match for them, not yet. Instead, he activated [Shadow Steps], his only skill, and let his body slump slightly, blending into the alley's shadows. The movement was subtle, his footsteps muffled, but it wasn't enough to escape. Joren's hand shot out, grabbing his arm and twisting it painfully.
"Trying to sneak away?" Joren laughed, his grip tightening. "That pathetic skill won't save you. You're nothing, Rune. You'll never make it to the final exam."
The final exam. Three months away. The words burned in Rune's chest. Every year, the Council of the Human Union Association tested the city's sixteen-year-olds, selecting only the top 100 from 10,000 students to join one of the seven Union Associate Institutions. Those who passed would train to become elite warriors, guardians against the beasts. Those who failed... well, they were cast aside, relegated to menial jobs or left to fend for themselves in the city's underbelly. For Rune, the exam was his last chance to prove he wasn't trash, to show he could rise above Level 1.
"I'm not giving up," Rune muttered, his voice low but steady. The words cost him another punch to the stomach, and he doubled over, gasping.
"Keep dreaming," Kael said, spitting on the ground. "You'll be sweeping streets while we're out there killing monsters for real."
The trio laughed again, but a sharp whistle cut through the alley. A teacher, Professor Lira, appeared at the entrance, her silver hair glinting in the sunlight. "What's going on here?" she snapped, her mana flaring faintly, a warning of her high rank.
Joren and his cronies stepped back, their smirks fading. "Just... talking, Professor," Joren said smoothly.
Lira's eyes narrowed, landing on Rune's bruised face. "Get to class. All of you. Now."
The bullies sauntered off, casting mocking glances over their shoulders. Rune pushed himself to his feet, wiping blood from his lip. Lira's gaze softened, but only slightly. "Rune, you need to stop drawing attention to yourself. Focus on your training. The exam is your only shot."
"I know," he said quietly, meeting her eyes. "I'm trying."
She sighed, shaking her head, and walked away. Rune stood alone in the alley, his breath ragged. He wasn't giving up. He *couldn't*. Not when everything depended on those three months.
---
The Civil School was one of many run by the Association, a mandatory stepping stone for every awakened child. Its halls were a blend of tradition and power: polished oak floors, walls lined with portraits of legendary warriors, and training arenas where mana crackled like lightning. The school's crest—a silver flame encircled by seven stars—hung above every doorway, a reminder of the Union's reach. Students trained daily, honing their skills in the nests, were captured feralsouls—monsters ranked of Awakened—were pitted against them under controlled conditions. Killing a feral soul was supposed to grant experience, pushing students toward the next level, the next rank. But for Rune, the system seemed broken. He'd fought dozens of F-rank feralsouls—slimy, claw-footed creatures with snapping jaws—and yet his level remained stubbornly at 1.
That evening, Rune sat alone in the training yard, the stars above glinting coldly. The other students had gone to the dorms or the city's entertainment district, but Rune had nowhere else to be. His hands gripped a practice dagger dagger, its blade dull but heavy in his hands. He moved through the motions of [Shadow Steps], his body gliding between the yard's wooden posts, his footsteps barely audible. The skill was weak, useless in a real fight, but it was all he had. He practiced until his muscles burned, until sweat dripped into his eyes, until the moon hung high in the sky.
"Why won't you work?" he muttered, glaring at his hands as if they held the answer. His stats were abysmal, but his Intelligence and Mana were F+, a sliver above the rest. It wasn't much, but it was something. Maybe he wasn't fighting the right way. Maybe he was missing something about the system, about himself.
He thought back to his Awakening, a year ago. The ritual had been simple: a crystal orb, a surge of mana, and the system's voice in his mind, assigning his stats and rank. Most students felt a rush of power, their bodies adapting to mana within weeks. Rune had felt... The same. Just a faint tingle, like static. He'd chosen [Shadow Steps] because it felt right, like it matched the quiet way he moved through the world. But now, it felt like a mistake.
The sound of footsteps broke his thoughts. He tensed, expecting Joren or Kael, but it was Mira, a girl from his class. Her auburn hair was tied back, and her Initiate-rank badge gleamed on her uniform. She was one of the few who didn't mock him outright as she was his childhood friend, though her pity stung almost as much.
"You're still out here?" she asked, crossing her arms. "Rune, it's past midnight."
He shrugged, sheathing the dagger. "Can't sleep."
She hesitated, then sat on a nearby bench. "You're pushing too hard. The nests, the training... it's not helping, is it?"
He didn't answer. She was right, but admitting it felt like defeat.
Mira sighed. "Look, I know the exam's in three months, but... maybe you should consider other options. Not everyone makes it to the Union Institutes. There are jobs in the city—"
"No." His voice was sharp, cutting her off. "I'm not giving up. I *will* pass the exam."
Her eyes softened, but she didn't argue. "Okay. Just... be careful, Rune. Joren and his crew aren't going to stop. And the exam—it's brutal. They don't just test your level. They test everything. Strength, strategy, survival."
"I know," he said, his voice quieter now. "But I have to try."
She nodded, standing. "If you need help, ask. I mean it."
He watched her go, her words lingering. Help. He didn't want pity, but maybe she was right about one thing: he needed to change something. The nests weren't working. Killing feralsouls wasn't enough. He needed to understand why he was stuck, why the system refused to acknowledge his efforts.
The next morning, Rune slipped into the school's library, a cavernous room filled with ancient tomes and glowing data-slates. He wasn't a scholar—Intelligence: F+ didn't exactly make him a genius—but he was desperate. He scoured texts on mana, leveling, and the Awakening system, searching for anything that might explain his stagnation. Most of the books were dense, written for high-rankers, but one caught his eye: a worn journal titled *The Unseen Path: Mana and the Mind*.
The journal spoke of mana not as a simple force, but as a reflection of will. "Levels are granted by kills alone, but other stats can be increased in different way." Rune frowned, rereading the line. What did that mean? He'd been fighting, training, pushing himself to the limit. What more could the system want?
He spent hours reading, his eyes burning, until a shadow fell over him. It was Professor Lira, her expression unreadable. "You're in here early," she said. "Looking for answers?"
Rune closed the journal, suddenly self-conscious. "Just... trying to understand."
She studied him for a moment, then sat across from him. "You're different, Rune. Not because you're stuck, but because you haven't given up. Most would have by now."
He didn't know how to respond. Praise from Lira was rare, and it felt heavier than he expected.
"The exam is in three months," she continued. "The nests aren't enough for you. If you want to break through, you need to face something real. Something dangerous."
His heart quickened. "Like what?"
She leaned forward, her voice low. "There's a restricted nest, deep in the school's undercroft. feralsouls, but... untamed. No high-rankers watching. Only safety nets that don't allow the monster to get out. If you can survive it, you might find what you're missing."
Rune's mouth went dry. "Is that... allowed?"
Lira's lips twitched, not quite a smile. "I didn't say it was. But I'm telling you it exists. What you do with that is up to you."
She stood, leaving him with the journal and a choice. The restricted nest. Dangerous. Forbidden. But maybe, just maybe, it was the key to breaking free of Level 1.
Rune gripped the journal, his resolve hardening. Three months. He'd face the nest, the exam, Joren, all of it. He wasn't trash. He was Rune Aldric Voss, and he was going to prove it.