Morning began with the low horn echoing along the body of the Wall.
The sound traveled slowly through metal and stone, rolling down toward the workers' housing like a habit that had existed long enough to no longer require thought. He woke before the horn completely faded, dressed in the dim light, his movements neat and practiced.
On the table, the old pocket watch lay still.
He looked at it for a second. It still seemed usable. Without thinking too much, he slipped it into his coat pocket.
At the assignment area, one person was missing.
Old Hoob wasn't there.
The metal crate he usually sat on stood empty, flipped upside down. No one asked. Someone muttered that the old man had taken a day off—rare, mostly because he had been working here longer than almost anyone else—but it was still treated like an ordinary thing. Work didn't slow down just because one person was absent.
Today, more Awakened had gathered near the outer levels of the Wall.
Not Rankers.
Just Awakened—those who had gone through awakening and were granted permission to stand a little closer to danger than ordinary people. Everyone knew the difference. No one needed a long explanation.
The awakening system was common knowledge. Anyone who had lived long enough on this continent had heard the same version of it:
The world had changed.
Humans had changed too.
Some adapted better than others.
Awakened appeared as a natural response. Their bodies endured environmental pressure. They could receive mana. Some developed minor, stable mutations. They were stronger, faster, more resilient than ordinary people. Not heroes. Not monsters.
Just people slightly more suited to this world.
Ranker was something else.
The media rarely went into detail. They only emphasized that Rankers were individuals who had "reached a higher state," capable of taking on tasks ordinary Awakened could not. No one explained how that state was reached. People only knew one thing: training was necessary, but not enough.
The government and the great families always signed their names together on every announcement.
Together they managed.
Together they protected.
Together they endured.
No one argued.
Because the Wall was still standing—and that was convincing enough.
He followed the worker team up to the northern reinforcement sector.
A new crack had been marked. Just a small one. The mana flow wasn't strong, positioned beyond the third reinforcement layer. On the assignment board, it was nothing more than a simple red symbol. Not enough to raise the alert level, but enough to call Awakened for supervision.
"Low-tier beast possibility," the supervisor said. "Awakened will handle it. Workers hold position."
No one reacted strongly. A few people sighed, as if this kind of situation had long become routine.
From higher up, he could see the land beyond the Wall more clearly. Patches of toxic ground stretched outward in dull gray, land that could no longer be farmed. Here and there stood dry trees that had died who knew how long ago.
The encounter happened some distance away from the Wall.
He couldn't hear much, only caught glimpses of the Awakened group. They moved quickly and cleanly, coordinating with short hand signals. No flashy power. No bursts of light. No explosions.
Just precise strikes, pressure applied little by little.
The beast was low to the ground, its long body covered in dark skin that didn't reflect light. It didn't charge mindlessly like in propaganda clips. It defended, retreated, countered when it found openings.
It took longer than expected.
No one panicked. But tension showed in every step the Awakened took. In the end, the beast fell.
No cheers.
No celebration.
Just another task completed.
On the Wall, other low-tier Awakened continued their own work. They were Awakened too—but different in another way. Here, they carried heavier materials, stood where the wind was harsher, took responsibility for sections ordinary people couldn't endure for long.
He mixed materials, hands moving in a familiar rhythm. The pocket watch in his coat pressed lightly against his chest each time he bent down.
He glanced toward the marked crack.
It was still there.
Silent.
Not causing any problems.
Work continued. The shift wasn't over yet.