The sky above District 9 shimmered with the eerie pulse of aether-lights, a reminder that the outer slums were always under surveillance even if no one ever came to help. The lights, once comforting, now loomed like floating specters, watching, waiting. Their soft hum buzzed through the air, crackling with the energy of a world forever changed.
The year was 2184, and humanity no longer reigned alone. Ever since the Event the collision between Earth and the parallel dimension Aether ion, the world had shifted. Cities were restructured, society redefined, and those capable of channeling Aether became gods among men. They were the Ascendants.
And then there were people like Zayn Calder.
He crashed against the training wall with a crunch, his ribs screaming in protest. The dust settled slowly, clinging to the sweat dripping down his brow. He gasped for breath, the coppery taste of blood thick on his tongue. Around him, a half-circle of students in sleek combat uniforms watched, their expressions ranging from amused to indifferent.
"Again!" Instructor Rhys barked. His voice cut through the haze like a blade. The man was massive, his entire right arm replaced with cybernetically enhanced musculature powered by CoreTech. The fingers of that arm clicked as they tightened into a fist, coils along his bicep glowing faintly with blue Aether.
Zayn struggled to his feet. Every breath felt like he was inhaling fire, but he wouldn't stay down. Not again. The slums had taught him that weakness was an invitation to vanish. Here, in the Ascendant Academy, it was a death sentence.
"I said move, Nullborn!" Rhys roared.
A murmur rippled through the watching crowd. That word, Nullborn... wasn't just an insult. It was a label, a curse, a brand. Zayn had been born without the ability to channel Aether. No Core compatibility. No enhancements. No value.
But still, he stood.
One of the students, a tall girl with a razor-cut bob and a flame-whip dancing between her fingers, stepped forward.
"Still standing, huh?" Lira smirked. "Let's fix that."
Zayn barely had time to see the strike coming.
A ribbon of searing blue flame lashed out at him, snapping through the air with a sound like cracking bones. The heat surged toward his chest. He didn't flinch. He couldn't. His legs were locked. He accepted it, bracing for the pain.
But there was no pain.
The flame struck and vanished.
Silence.
Everyone froze. Lira blinked. Instructor Rhys took a cautious step forward, his visor sliding down to scan the readings.
"That's impossible," he muttered. "He didn't dodge. The Aether just… collapsed."
Zayn stared at his own chest, expecting to see burns or blisters. There was nothing. Not even the smell of singed fabric. His skin was cold.
The moment stretched.
Then, from the edge of the arena, one of the other students let out a strangled cry. He fell to his knees, clutching his chest. Blood streamed from his nose.
"What... what's happening!?" another gasped. More students began to stagger. Three collapsed completely.
Zayn's breath caught. He took a step back, but his knees buckled again. His palm hit the ground, and from that point, a web of black veins spread across the floor, jagged and pulsing.
He stared in horror as they climbed up his arm. The cracks weren't just visual they were real, etched into his flesh like burning branches of obsidian lightning. Yet they didn't hurt. They pulsed with… something else.
He wasn't supposed to have power.
He wasn't supposed to be anything.
And yet, the ground around him rippled like a mirage. The very air shimmered, Aether destabilizing. Lights flickered. Even Rhys took a step back.
Zayn gasped, clutching at his chest. His heartbeat was thunderous, each pulse sending tremors through his limbs.
"Medical team to Arena C!" Rhys snapped. "NOW!"
Zayn turned toward the instructor. For a fleeting second, their eyes met and Zayn saw fear.
Not pity.
Not anger.
Fear.
Before the medics arrived, Zayn collapsed. Everything went black.