Chapter 1 — An Average Mistake
Royushi Kairo learned he had been recruited by accident.
Not because someone told him—no one bothered—but because his name was printed wrong on the roster.
He stood at the edge of the Upbringers' Citadel front gate, watching hundreds of recruits line up in the courtyard in precise rows. Uniforms crisp. Shuryoku faintly humming beneath their skin like restrained thunder. Excitement buzzed in the air, thick and restless.
Royushi felt none of it.
He scanned the board.
Kairo Royushi— Intake Class C.
His name was at the bottom.
He blinked once.
Then twice.
Class C was not for people like him.
He knew that much.
Class C was for prodigies, candidates with high output, those with unusually high Shuryoku output.
He buried his hands in his pockets, looked around not once but twice. No one double-checked the board except him. Everyone was smiling, talking, and already comparing their ranks with each other before the first day even began.
He considered leaving.
No one would stop him. That thought passed through him each second, calmly—without panic. He could go back to living his directionless and quiet life beyond the Citadel's walls.
But something held him there.
Not curiosity, not ambition.
Just… inaction.
"Excuse me."
Royushi turned.
A girl stood beside him, posture straight and eyes as sharp as a knife. Her uniform perfectly fitted, as if it had been tailored with her mind. There was a quiet confidence in the way she stood—unquestioned.
"My name is Ishara Veyl," she said. "You're blocking the roster."
"Oh." Royushi stepped aside quickly. "Sorry."
She glanced at the board, then at him.
"You're in Class C too?"
"Somehow I guess," he replied.
That was the most honest answer he had to give.
She studied him—his face, his uniform and his behaviour—not rudely or openly but with the same precision as one might use to assess a weapon. Her gaze lingered for a second longer than necessary.
"You don't look surprised," she said.
"I am," Royushi answered. "It's just not enough to react."
That earned him a pause.
Most people tried to impress on day one. Or at least explain themselves. Royushi was different—he did neither. He didn't straighten his posture. Didn't ask about rankings like the others. Didn't even seem interested in where he belonged.
Ishara looked away first.
"Try not to slow us down," she said, not unkindly.
Royushi smiled at her and watched her go, then turned back to the board.
An average mistake, he thought.
The first assessment came sooner than expected.
No ceremony. No speeches.
Just a transport vehicle and a single line from the instructor:
"Minor inspection mission. Real conditions. Survive."
The recruits exchanged glances with excitement.
Royushi sat quietly at the back.
The assignment zone was an abandoned industrial sector—rusted structures, narrow corridors and poor visibility. Perfect for testing Shuryoku control under pressure.
The teams split quickly. Royushi ended up alone as anticipated.
Again, not surprising.
He moved carefully, conserving Shuryoku, which he didn't know how to use properly. It barely responded when he called for it—faint, slow, like a muscle that has never been trained.
That was when the ambush hit.
It was fast. Brutal.
Hostile entities poured from the shadows, movement distorted with a heavy presence.
Royushi reacted on instinct alone—dodging, retreating and misstepping.
One of the entities threw him against a wall.
Pain flared across his side.
His vision blurred.
Shuryoku slipped from his control entirely.
"So this is it?" He thought distantly, sliding to the ground.
He wasn't afraid.
Just tired.
Then the air changed.
Pressure folded inward. Sound became dimmer. The world seemed to bend.
A figure stood between Royushi and the approaching threat—translucent, flickering, unreal.
A hologram.
The man looked calm. Familiar in a way Royushi couldn't place.
With a precise gesture, the enemies glitched, as if reality itself had rejected them.
Royushi stared.
"Who… are you?" he managed.
"It doesn't matter who I am," the man said.
Finally, he turned.
His eyes were sharp. Recognizing.
"But you," the hologram continued, "are wasting something extraordinary."
Royushi swallowed.
"I don't even know what you're talking about."
A pause.
"I know," the man said. "That's the problem."
The hologram's gaze softened, just slightly.
"You have the same silence," he added. "The same hesitation."
The enemies began to move again.
The man straightened.
"If you live," he said, "I'll ask you a question."
The pressure snapped.
And the world rushed back in.
Royushi didn't know yet.
But that was the moment when his life stopped being accidental.
Before saying anything, Royushi collapsed.