The seconds felt like hours.
Michael placed his hands against the awakening orb's surface, and he could feel his pulse hitting in his fingertips, each heartbeat was counting down to his fate. The orb was nice to touch, almost unnaturally so, and beneath his finger tips he could sense a kind of energy, potential, circling just beyond his reach.
*Five seconds.*
Around him, the hall had already fallen into that deep silence. He could feel hundreds of eyes focused on his back, could imagine the mixture of hope and fear across their faces. Some probably wanted him to succeed, to prove that awakening was still possible. Others, bitter from their own failures, likely wanted him to join the crowd of mediocre.
*Ten seconds.*
Michael tried to focus, to reach for whatever spark of potential might exist within him. But how? The instructors had never explained that part. Just "place your hands on the orb and focus your mind." Focus on what? His desire to awaken? His desperation? His memories of another life?
*Fifteen seconds.*
The original Michael Norman's memories surfaced, little scenes playing through his mind like a sad film. Growing up in the lower districts of Mega City No. 3090, where the buildings were small, the air recyclers don't work, and sunlight was a luxury due to the upper-level construction. His parents faces he barely remembered—lost to a monster outbreak when he was only six years old. A "minor incursion" the Federation reports had called it. Minor. As if the deaths of hundreds of lower-district residents was merely a side story in some bureaucrat's daily report.
*Twenty seconds.*
Then there was Mia. Beautiful, who'd found him crying in the rubble of his collapsed home and somehow decided to take in a traumatized orphan despite being barely an adult herself. She was only eighteen then—the same age Michael was now. The memories showed her working three jobs, coming home exhausted but always with a smile on her face for him. Teaching him to read using bad data tablets. Sharing her meals even when she hadn't eaten enough herself.
The original Michael had loved her with a desperate, grateful intensity. And as the years passed and he grew older, that love had... complicated. She wasn't really his guardian—there were no official papers, no legal adoption. In the lower districts, such formalities were luxuries. They were just two people surviving together, their relationship evolving into something neither quite acknowledged but both understood.
*Twenty-five seconds.*
A wave of emotion hit through Michael—not entirely his own, but belonging to the body he now resided in . Guilt for all the times the original Michael had seen Mia's tired face and felt helpless to do anything. Determination to give her a better life, to repay everything she'd had done for him. Fear that he would fail here, fail her, fail the only person who'd ever cared whether he lived or died.
*Twenty-eight seconds.*
Nothing. The orb was still motionless beneath his hands, its radiating patterns unchanged, mocking him with their indifference.
*This is it,* Michael thought, pure sadness rising in his throat. *I'm going to fail. Second chance at life and I'm going to waste it because—*
*Twenty-nine seconds.*
The world exploded into darkness.
Black light—if such a thing existed—erupted from the orb like a volcanic explosion. Shadows burst outward in a wavy pattern , wrapping around Michael's arms, his upper body, circling up toward the ceiling of the hall. For one moment, he felt *connected* to something bigger and ancient, something that looks like an endless depths and forgotten powers.
Gasps and screams sounded through the hall. Someone shouted in alarm. Michael felt his vision blur, felt something shift inside his chest, and then—
The shadows all of a sudden disappeared.
Michael stumbled backward, his hands falling away from the orb. His breath gasping, his heart racing so fast he thought it might burst . What the hell was that? Had he succeeded? Failed spectacularly? Was that normal?
Instructor Kane stood frozen, his scarred face locked in an expression of shock that looked into something unreadable. The veteran Awakener's eyes locked in as he studied Michael with unsettling intensity, as if seeing something that disturbed him.
"Michael Norman," Kane finally announced, "has awakened as a... Shadow Summoner."
The hall exploded into murmurs and whispers, but not the excited kind that had greeted earlier successes. Michael heard little of conversation coming from all directions:
"Shadow Summoner? What even is that?"
"Sounds weak... probably why the display was so pathetic."
"Did you see how the light barely even showed? Must be a trash-tier talent."
"Poor guy, awakening something so niche. It probably would have been better if he failed and trying to become a Genetic Awakener instead."
Michael's face was filled with humiliation, but beneath the embarrassment, something else stirred. Because floating in his vision, invisible to everyone else, was a translucent blue panel that was definitely not there thirty seconds ago:
---
**[SYSTEM INITIALIZATION COMPLETE]**
**Name:** Michael Norman
**Age:** 18
**Race:** Human
**Level:** 1 (0/100 EXP)
**Class:** Shadow Summoner (Rare Grade)
**Stats:**
STR: 1.2
AGI: 1.3
CON: 1.1
INT: 1.5
**Free AP:** 4
**Skills:**
- Shadow Summoning (Lv. 1)
- Shadow Binding (Lv. 1)
- Contract Slots: 0/2
**Talents:**
- [Infinite Shadow Extraction] (S-Tier)
**Mark of Origin:** Gift Type - [Shadow Dominion]
---
Michael looked at the panel, his mind wavering. A system. An actual, genuine system like something out of the web novels he'd read in his previous life. And that talent—*Infinite Shadow Extraction*, ranked S-Tier—what did that even mean? Why did he have it? How did he have it?
Questions running through his thoughts, but he forced himself to remain calm. Around him, other candidates were being called, the ceremony continuing its brutal march. Michael walked back to his seat, barely registering the pitying looks or dismissive stares thrown his way.
*Rare Grade,* he thought, clenching onto that detail. *The panel says Rare Grade. That's... that's actually good, isn't it? Better than the Common or Uncommon classes others have awakened.*
But why did Instructor Kane look so strange? And why were people treating his awakening like a failure?
Michael settled back into his seat, his mind churning through possibilities. The original Michael Norman's memories provided some context—Shadow Summoners were indeed rare, but not in a good way. They were considered niche classes, difficult to utilize effectively, requiring specific resources and strategies that most academies didn't specialize in. Physically weak, dependent on summons that took time to develop, vulnerable in close combat...
*A late-game class in a world where most people die early,* Michael realized with grim clarity.
The ceremony continued around him, but Michael didn't pay attention. His thoughts kept going back to Mia, to the life they'd struggled through together, to the weight of responsibility now on his shoulders. The original Michael had dreamed of awakening so he could pull them both out of poverty, could give Mia the life she deserved after everything she'd sacrificed.
And he succeeded. Sort of. Maybe. If he didn't die in the Gods Domain during his first expedition.
Michael pulled up fragments of memory from the original owner—academy lessons absorbed over the past months of forced enrollment. He remembered lectures about the apocalypse that had reshaped Earth over two thousand years ago. Space rifts opening up reality itself, monsters entering through like a flood, human civilization collapsing under the weight of cosmic horror.
Hundreds of years of warfare. Millions dead. Entire continents rendered uninhabitable.
And then, somehow, humanity had adapted. Earth itself had evolved, transformed into something called the Aurora Realm, infused with origin energy that allowed for supernatural powers. The survivors had discovered the Gods Domain—a parallel dimension that operated like some kind of twisted game, complete with levels, monsters, loot, and very real death penalties.
Technology had advanced explosively, fueled by resources and knowledge brought back from other races encountered in the Gods Domain. The scattered remnants of humanity had reorganized into massive mega cities—fortress-hubs designed for defense, trade, and governance. The Federation had risen as a global power, uniting all nations under a single banner out of sheer necessity.
And through it all, two types of humans had emerged as humanity's champions: Espers who awakened classes naturally, and Genetic Awakeners who forced their evolution through cultivation techniques salvaged from the Gods Domain.
Michael was now, technically, an Esper. A weak one, by all accounts, but an Esper nonetheless.
*So what now?* he wondered, watching another candidate fail their awakening and walk away with dead eyes. *I have this system, this 'Infinite Shadow Extraction' talent, and a class everyone thinks is garbage. How do I turn this into actual power? How do I survive long enough to make it matter?*
The original Michael's fear and desperation warred with the translators more analytical mindset. He'd read enough web novels to know that protagonists with cheat abilities usually figured things out eventually. But this wasn't fiction. This was real. People really died here. The Gods Domain was genuinely dangerous, not just words on a screen.
And he had Mia counting on him.
The thought of her brought a sharp pang to his chest—emotions bleeding through from the original owner, but also his own growing concern for this woman who'd shown such kindness to a stranger's body. She'd been waiting anxiously for news of the ceremony, probably pacing their apartment in the lower districts, hoping that her efforts and investment in raising him would pay off.
I can't fail her, Michael thought . I won't. Whatever this Shadow Summoner class is, whatever this Infinite Shadow Extraction talent does, I'll figure it out. I'll make it work.
"Candidate two hundred twelve: Sarah Chen."
The ceremony continued. More names. More failures. A few scattered successes that caused brief excitement before being swallowed by the atmosphere of defeat.
Michael tuned it all out, his attention focused inward on the blue panel still surfacing at the edge of his vision. He experimented mentally, willing it to expand, to provide more information. The system responded, new text appearing:
[Shadow Summoning]: Summon temporary shadow constructs to fight on your behalf. Strength and duration scale with INT. Current limit: 2 weak shadows for 10 minutes. Cost: 10 MP per shadow.
[Shadow Binding]: Temporarily paralyze targets by binding their shadow. Duration and effectiveness scale with INT. Cost: 15 MP. Cooldown: 30 seconds.
[Infinite Shadow Extraction]: Extract essence from defeated enemies' shadows or willing subjects. Extracted essence can grant permanent stat increases, new abilities, skill enhancements, racial traits, or be used to empower contracted shadows. No upper limit to extractions. Warning: Ability nature classified as [REDACTED]. Use discretion.
Michael's breath caught. That last part—the warning, the redaction—implied something far beyond a normal class ability. Something potentially dangerous. Something the Federation might not approve of.
Or something they don't know about, he realized. Because if this system is unique to me, if this talent is truly S-Tier and hidden from their scanners...
The implications were staggering. And terrifying.
Around him, the ceremony finally drew to a close. Out of over three hundred candidates, only nine had successfully awakened. Nine. The rest sat in defeated silence or quiet sobs, their dreams of rising above their station crushed by the indifferent mathematics of potential.
But Michael wasn't thinking about them anymore. He was thinking about shadows, about extraction, about a power that might be far more than it seemed.
He was thinking about survival.
And he was thinking about Mia's smile when he told her that everything was about to change.