Midnight hung heavy over the city, but in the depths of an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts, the only light came from flickering bulbs and the erratic glow of machines. The air smelled of burnt metal, solder, and ozone.
John Veyne sat slouched on a rickety stool, his thin frame almost swallowed by the clutter around him. His ribs pressed painfully against his shirt, and every movement made his joints ache a cruel reminder of a body that refused to cooperate with a mind that raced faster than it could keep up.
Sparks danced from half-finished machinery scattered across the workshop. At the center stood his latest creation: a sleek, compact device he had named the Divinus Core. Tubes snaked from its sides, wires crawled across the floor like living veins, and panels flickered with lights that barely held against the dimness of the room. This was his greatest experiment yet a machine meant to mimic the flow of Divine Energy itself.
"I'm close. I know it!" John whispered, his thin lips curling into a smile as he pushed himself upright. His hands shook as he swung his gaze to the workstation at the far end of the room.
The computer sat on a steel table, dust and tools scattered around it. Its black surface reflected the glow of the workshop lights, and John's trembling fingers danced across the keyboard. He tapped the enter key, then navigated through layers of software screens, clicking with precision despite the tremor in his hands: Flux Simulation → Core Initialization → Output Stabilization → Start Sequence.
He adjusted the tiny microphone on his headset and typed in a final command before pressing the glass-covered activation button. The button hissed under his touch, glowing faintly beneath his palm.
John's heart thudded. He crouched behind the makeshift shield he had built himself—a tall, reinforced panel of layered metal plates. The shield bore scorch marks from previous failures. His helmet, a sleek contraption that covered his face entirely, reflected the flickering lights. Through its small visor, he could see the numbers on the computer: 99% SUCCESS.
"Come on… please work…" he murmured, barely daring to breathe.
He tightened his grip on the edge of the shield and waited. The hum of the Divinus Core grew louder, a high-pitched resonance vibrating through the floor and into his bones. Wires trembled, tubes shuddered, and a faint blue glow emanated from the heart of the machine.
And then
Everything went dark.
The lights flickered once… twice… and died. The hum of the machine cut off abruptly. The numbers on the computer screen vanished. Silence pressed against him, heavier than the metal around him.
"What the ?" he muttered, stepping slightly forward, ignoring the ache in his joints.
Before he could lower the shield, a sudden repulse of energy shot from the Divinus Core. A shockwave slammed into him, knocking him back against the floor. Pain exploded up his right leg, sharp and unforgiving. Sparks flew across the room as tubes rattled against the steel table.
"Ughh… man!" he groaned, gritting his teeth through the ache. He tried to move, wincing at every step, before finally slumping back against the shield.
He lifted his head, looking at the still, lifeless machine. The glow was gone, the hum silenced, and for the first time in weeks, the core seemed utterly defeated.
"Haih… I guess… I'll give up now," he muttered, voice raw with exhaustion, rubbing at the bruise forming along his leg.
But even as the words left his mouth, a faint, almost imperceptible vibration hummed from the Divinus Core. A reminder, it wasn't over yet.
And John frail, battered, determined couldn't let it be.
The warehouse door resisted at first.
It always did.
John leaned his shoulder against the cold steel and pushed. The hinges groaned in protest before finally giving way, the sound echoing into the empty industrial lot outside.
Cool air spilled in.
Not fresh. Not clean. Just… cold.
He stepped out carefully, locking the door behind him with a small coded pad he'd installed months ago. The keypad glowed faint blue under his fingers as he entered the sequence. His hands trembled not from fear, but fatigue.
The city outskirts at midnight felt abandoned.
Long stretches of cracked asphalt.
Chain-link fences humming softly in the wind.
Streetlights buzzing like tired insects.
He adjusted the strap of his duffel bag, wincing as it tugged at his shoulder joint. It slipped too easily in its socket. He rolled it back into place with a quiet click.
He was used to that sound.
His shoes caught the faint orange glow of a streetlight.
Not normal shoes.
The V-Glide Mk I.
From the outside, they looked like high-top sneakers reinforced with matte-black plating. But beneath the soles were retractable wheel assemblies, each powered by twin micro electric motors. The battery casing ran along the heel spine, slim but dense. Tiny vents along the side prevented overheating. A minimal LED strip near the ankle displayed speed and battery percentage.
He crouched slightly and tapped the small metal toggle near his left ankle.
Click.
There was a mechanical shift under his feet.
The wheels extended smoothly from the sole, locking into place with satisfying precision. He tapped the second switch, and the motors hummed alive.
He leaned forward.
The pavement caught the wheels.
And he moved.
The world blurred slightly as he accelerated 20 km/h… 30… 38.
Wind rushed past his ears, threading through his hair. For a moment, the pain in his joints felt distant. Like it belonged to someone else.
This, this was what control felt like.
He passed dark storefronts. Closed factories. A stray plastic bag tumbling across the road like something alive.
For two minutes, he wasn't fragile.
Then the hum faltered.
A subtle stutter.
He frowned.
The LED strip flickered.
40%
12%
3%
"What ?"
The motors died instantly.
The wheels locked mid-glide.
His body lurched forward violently. His right leg buckled first, unstable from earlier. He barely caught himself against a rusted street sign, fingers scraping against peeling metal.
The display blinked red.
0%
He stared at it, breathing unevenly.
"…Ughh. Shit. Again??"
He straightened slowly, heart pounding harder than it should for something so small.
"If I could just figure out what's draining the cells…" he muttered under his breath.
He knew his calculations were correct. He had triple-checked the discharge rates. Something else was interfering.
Something he couldn't measure.
He tapped the disengage switch. The wheels retracted into the soles, leaving him standing alone in the middle of an empty road.
Now he had to walk.
Each step was careful. Controlled.
His knees felt loose, like they might give out if he moved wrong. His ankle throbbed from the earlier shockwave. His fingers curled slightly inward from joint strain.
The 24/7 mart sign glowed faint green a few blocks away.
But halfway there, he slowed.
A bus stop sat under a flickering streetlight.
The glass walls were scratched and cloudy, layered with old stickers and faded ads. The metal bench inside looked unforgiving cold, straight, slightly rusted at the edges.
He stepped in.
The air inside felt trapped and stale.
He lowered himself into the middle of the bench, careful not to sit too fast. The metal sent a chill through his thin frame instantly.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the pavement beneath his shoes.
The city hummed in the distance. Not loud. Just… existing.
His phone vibrated.
The sound felt unnaturally loud in the quiet.
He blinked at it before pulling it out.
The screen illuminated his face in pale light.
12:00 AM — September 11
Before he could process the time, a familiar synthetic voice spoke.
"Congratulations."
He froze.
"John Veyne, you are officially sixteen years old this year. Happy birthday, sir."
Minu's voice—clear, precise, almost gentle.
John stared at the date again.
Sixteen.
"…Woah."
A breath left him, something between a laugh and disbelief.
"Crazy how I lost track of time."
He leaned back slowly against the cold plexiglass wall. The overhead light flickered again, buzzing faintly.
"Hm… at least you remembered it, Minu."
A brief pause.
"It is within my core directives to remember significant dates," the AI replied.
He smiled faintly.
"It's not like that old drunk bastard remembers it anyway."
The smile faded.
His mother had died the night he was born. Complications during childbirth. That was the official story. He'd read the medical report himself when he was thirteen.
His father never said her name again.
Grief hollowed him. Alcohol filled the hollow.
By the time John was old enough to understand words like "resentment," he was already living inside it.
Doors slammed.
Bottles shattered.
Silence followed.
John learned to be quiet. Learned that pain was temporary. Learned that depending on anyone was a mistake.
And then there was his body.
Ehlers Danlos Syndrome.
A flaw in his own genetic code.
Ligaments too loose. Joints too unstable. Muscles too weak to compensate. Bruises blooming from the slightest impact. Recovery that took longer than it should.
He would never be strong.
So he became smart.
While other kids ran, he calculated.
While they lifted weights, he built machines.
While they slept, he studied.
By fifteen, school felt smaller than his questions.
So he left.
Not dramatically. Not rebelliously.
Quietly.
Books replaced teachers. Circuits replaced classmates. Warehouses replaced classrooms.
And Divine Energy replaced sleep.
John looked down at his hands now thin, trembling slightly in the cold.
Sixteen.
He felt older than that.
Minu's voice broke the silence again.
"Would you like me to initiate a birthday protocol, sir?"
He let out a slow breath.
"…No."
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Let's just sit here."
The streetlight above him flickered again, buzzing faintly.
John let his head tilt back, eyes drifting upward.
Across the street, mounted high on the side of a polished glass building that didn't belong in this rusted district, a massive digital billboard glowed against the night.
He hadn't noticed it before.
The display shifted, illuminating the empty road in pale gold light.
AURELIOS DOMINION
The words stood sharp and precise beneath a rotating emblem 0 a circular symbol resembling a fractured halo intertwined with branching lines of light.
Below it, text scrolled slowly:
"Harnessing Divine Energy for Humanity."
"Reconstruct. Restore. Reimagine."
The ad shifted again.
A laboratory bathed in sterile white light.
Researchers in reinforced suits.
A glowing containment chamber filled with swirling strands of blue-gold energy.
Another line appeared.
"For those without resonance."
John's eyes narrowed slightly.
Aurelios Dominion.
He knew the name.
Everyone did.
The largest private research corporation dedicated to Divine Energy studies. Founded and owned by Nandus Drawon, a man who appeared on screens almost as often as government officials.
Drawon had built his empire on a promise:
To understand Divine Energy.
To control it.
To make it accessible not just to the "chosen."
Most of society believed Divine Energy was a blessing.
Or a curse.
You were either born resonant able to wield flux or you weren't. And no one truly understood why.
Religious groups claimed the gods selected individuals for purpose.
Government agencies insisted it was a rare genetic phenomenon.
Influencers called it destiny.
But no one could explain the inconsistency.
Why were some healers?
Why were some destroyers?
Why did some who claimed to act "for good" cause more damage than criminals?
And why did some criminals possess power that rivaled natural disasters?
The official narrative was simple:
The gods chose.
And humanity adapted.
But doubt had been growing.
If the gods were good, why bless villains?
If it was a test, what was being tested?
If it was punishment… who was guilty?
Entire philosophical movements had formed around the question.
John stared at the billboard as the footage shifted again.
Aurelios Dominion's headquarters gleamed on screen a towering structure of glass and steel rising from the heart of the city. The lower third displayed more text:
"Advancing Divine Repurposing Technology."
"Stabilizing flux output for civilian infrastructure."
"Medical augmentation trials ongoing."
Repurposing.
That was the word that hooked him.
They weren't just studying Divine Energy.
They were attempting to redirect it. Contain it. Convert it into usable power sources. Medical enhancements. Structural reinforcement systems. Possibly even artificial resonance.
If that was true…
His mind began moving faster than his exhaustion.
Battery drain.
Energy interference.
Unmeasurable variables.
What if the anomaly in his V-Glide cells wasn't a defect?
What if it was reacting to ambient flux fluctuations?
Most non-resonant humans knew almost nothing about Divine Energy beyond surface-level myths.
You were "chosen."
You were "blessed."
You were "marked."
That was it.
The mechanics?
The physics?
The source?
Unknown.
Guarded.
Classified.
John leaned forward slightly, eyes locked on the glowing sign.
Aurelios Dominion had access to restricted data.
Flux stabilization chambers.
Containment cores.
Live resonance readings.
If anyone in the world understood how Divine Energy actually functioned beyond superstition it would be them.
A thought began forming.
Not reckless.
Calculated.
He didn't need to be chosen.
He needed information.
He could apply.
Internship programs. Research assistant positions. Junior analytics division. Corporate systems maintenance.
He didn't care how small the role was.
He just needed inside.
Just long enough to see their data.
Just long enough to understand what the world refused to explain.
His jaw tightened slightly.
"If I can't generate it…" he murmured quietly, almost to himself, "then I'll study it."
The billboard shifted one last time.
A close-up of Nandus Drawon himself appeared on screen sharp suit, silvered hair, calm eyes that seemed to hold more than he said.
"The future of Divine Energy is not destiny," Drawon's recorded voice declared smoothly.
"It is design."
John watched in silence.
Design.
That was a language he understood.
Minu's voice broke the quiet.
"Sir, would you like me to retrieve publicly available research papers from Aurelios Dominion?"
A slow smile spread across his face.
For the first time that night, it wasn't tired.
"Yes."
He stood carefully, adjusting his bag over his shoulder.
"Let's see what they're hiding in plain sight."
And under the dim buzz of a failing streetlight, sixteen-year-old John Veyne made a decision that would pull him far deeper into Divine Energy than he ever intended.