The cold, sterile air of the Awakening Center smelled like ozone and desperation.
Chronos stood at the back of the line, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his frayed hoodie. Around him, other sixteen-year-olds from the Blue Rock Orphanage were vibrating with nerves. Some prayed to the Old Gods; others practiced their breathing.
'A second life, and I'm still starting from the bottom,' Chronos thought, a bitter smile playing on his lips.
In his previous life on Earth, he had been a man of science, a physicist who died chasing the secrets of the cosmos. Now, he was just a nameless orphan in a world where an asteroid had turned physics into a joke. Here, "Blue Rocks" weren't just space debris—they were the source of divinity.
"Next! Number 409, Chronos!" the Proctor barked.
Chronos stepped forward. At the center of the room sat a jagged, glowing shard of the asteroid, pulsing with a rhythmic indigo light. It was beautiful. It was terrifying. It was the gatekeeper of destiny.
"Place your hand on the fragment," the Proctor said, not looking up from his tablet. "If it glows Red, you're Combat Class. Green, Support. If it stays dim... move to the exit and sign up for the labor mines."
The crowd went silent. Chronos felt the weight of a hundred eyes. As an orphan, he had no family backing, no Mana-reagents to boost his chances. This was his only shot at a life above the slums.
He reached out. His fingers brushed the cold, vibrating surface of the Blue Rock.
THOOMP.
A heartbeat echoed not in his ears, but in his soul. For a second, the world turned white. Then, a freezing sensation raced up his arm, settling right behind his eyes.
[Ding! Connection established.]
[Analyzing Host Soul... Error... Soul exceeds local limits.]
[Synchronizing with the Primordial Source...]
The Blue Rock didn't turn Red. It didn't turn Green.
It turned pitch black, sucking the light out of the room like a miniature black hole. The air grew heavy, the temperature dropping until frost began to creep across the floor.
"What is this?" the Proctor gasped, falling backward out of his chair. "The sensor... it's malfunctioning!"
Suddenly, the black light retracted, snapping back into Chronos's chest. The room returned to normal. The fragment of the asteroid cracked down the middle, turning into grey, lifeless ash.
[Synchronization 100% Complete.]
[Welcome, Creator.]
[Unique System Initialized: The Genesis Engine.]
Chronos blinked, his vision swimming. In front of him, a translucent blue screen hovered, invisible to everyone else.
Status Window Name: Chronos Level: 1
Class: Creator (Ancient/Unique)
Trait: Lord of the Void
World Seed: [Locked - Requirements: 100 Mana]
Current Power Level: F-Rank (Human Limit)
"Well?" someone hissed from the crowd. "What's his rank? What's the color?"
The Proctor scrambled to his feet, checking his tablet. His face went pale. "It... it says 'Anomaly.' Rank: Null. Potential: Unknown."
A wave of laughter broke out from the upper-class students watching from the balcony. "Null? That just means he's a dud! He broke the rock because he's a black hole for mana. He's a Zero-Star!"
Chronos ignored the jeers. He was staring at a new notification that just popped up.
[Emergency Quest: The First Spark]
[Objective: Your soul is currently too large for your physical body. To prevent soul-collapse, you must manifest your Pocket Dimension within 60 seconds.]
[Reward: Opening the 'Void Workshop']
[Failure: Permanent Brain Death.]
The timer began to tick down in red numbers at the center of his vision.
59... 58... 57...
"Hey, Null! Move it!" a guard shouted, reaching for Chronos's shoulder. "Go to the labor line!"
As the guard's hand closed in, Chronos closed his eyes. He didn't feel like a dud. He felt like he was holding a supernova inside his ribcage. He focused on the sensation behind his eyes, reaching into the darkness he had just touched.
'Open,' he commanded.
Space itself seemed to groan. A hairline fracture appeared in the air in front of him—a literal rip in reality.
[Quest Complete!]
[Pocket Dimension: 'The First Void' has been created.]
[Transferring Host Consciousness...]
Before the guard could grab him, Chronos vanished. He didn't just walk away; he blinked out of existence, leaving behind nothing but a faint smell of ozone and a room full of people whose jaws had just hit the floor.