Zephyron never slept.
Even in the dead of night, the city pulsed with restless life. Neon signs bled across the rain-slick streets like artificial daylight, painting the concrete in electric blues and sickly pinks. Hovering billboards flickered above crowded highways, shouting advertisements no one truly listened to anymore.
Thousands of people rushed through the streets beneath them—hunters chasing contracts, workers chasing wages, dreamers chasing futures that the city devoured faster than it granted.
Everyone in Zephyron was chasing something.
Creed wasn't.
He leaned against a cracked concrete wall outside the Hunter Guild Testing Hall, fingers gripping the worn strap of his faded backpack. The building loomed above him like a fortress of glass and steel. Its bright interior lights spilled through the tall windows, illuminating the line of nervous teenagers waiting inside.
From within the hall came another roar of excitement.
"Another B-rank ability!"
"No way! That's the third one today!"
"Zephyron's getting lucky this year!"
Creed lowered his gaze.
Today was Awakening Day.
Every registered orphan from the city shelters was required to attend. One by one they would touch the Awakening Orb—an artifact capable of revealing supernatural abilities hidden deep within a person's soul.
Abilities meant power.
Power meant money.
And money meant survival.
In Zephyron, those three things were the only currency that mattered.
The glass doors burst open suddenly.
A group of teenagers spilled out laughing loudly, their excitement echoing across the pavement. Most wore the gray jackets issued by the orphanage shelters, but the way they carried themselves had already changed.
They had power now.
One boy noticed Creed leaning by the wall.
His grin widened.
"Well look at that," he said, nudging his friend. "The stray dog is still here."
Another boy snorted.
"Didn't anyone tell you? Trash doesn't awaken."
The group laughed.
Creed didn't react.
He simply stared at the pavement.
He'd learned something very early growing up in Zephyron's orphan shelters.
Silence was safer than pride.
If you didn't respond, people usually got bored eventually.
Usually.
The loudspeaker above the entrance crackled.
"Next candidate…"
A pause.
Then—
"Sloane Creed."
His name echoed through the hallway speakers.
A few hunters waiting nearby glanced over.
One of them raised an eyebrow.
"That skinny kid?"
Another chuckled.
"Looks like he'd faint fighting a mosquito."
Creed exhaled slowly and pushed himself off the wall.
He walked through the doors without saying a word.
The testing chamber looked like something out of a futuristic laboratory.
Glass walls surrounded the circular room, and faint glowing runes crawled along the floor like living symbols. Machines hummed softly in the background while several guild examiners watched from observation consoles.
At the center of the chamber rested the Awakening Orb.
A crystal sphere the size of a basketball, suspended slightly above a pedestal of black metal.
It glowed faintly.
Waiting.
One of the examiners barely looked up from his tablet.
"Step forward."
Creed approached.
The orb reflected his thin frame, messy dark hair, and tired eyes. Up close, the crystal seemed deeper than it should have been—like staring into a frozen ocean.
"Touch the Awakening Orb," the examiner said lazily.
Creed raised his hand.
For a moment…
He hesitated.
If he awakened something powerful, everything would change.
No more shelters.
No more being the kid everyone ignored.
No more hunger.
No more fear.
His hand slowly pressed against the crystal.
The room dimmed.
A ripple passed through the orb.
The examiner frowned.
"That's… strange."
The crystal flickered.
For a moment the room's shadows stretched unnaturally across the floor.
Then a single line of glowing text appeared above the orb.
Ability Detected: Shadow Thread
The silence lasted exactly two seconds.
Then the room exploded with laughter.
"Shadow Thread?!"
"You're kidding!"
"That's the weakest shadow ability I've ever heard!"
One of the hunters nearly fell out of his chair laughing.
"What is he supposed to do? Knit sweaters in the dark?"
Another leaned forward, wiping tears from his eyes.
"Kid's gonna be the first hunter whose main weapon is a sewing kit."
The examiner rubbed his temple.
"Demonstrate it."
Creed swallowed.
He focused.
The shadow beneath the testing table trembled slightly.
Slowly…
Very slowly…
A thin strand of darkness stretched outward like a fragile thread of smoke.
It barely reached two feet.
Someone burst out laughing.
"BRO THAT THING CAN'T EVEN REACH MY FOOT!"
More laughter erupted.
Another hunter clapped mockingly.
"Congratulations kid," he said. "You're perfect for night cleaning duty."
The examiner scribbled on his tablet.
A stamp slammed down onto the file.
Classification: F-Rank
The lowest possible rating.
Beneath it appeared a bold label.
F-Rank: Trash Tier Ability
Someone in the room snickered.
"Trash Weaver."
The nickname spread immediately.
"Hey Trash Weaver!"
"Careful guys, he might stitch our shadows together!"
Creed stood there silently while the laughter continued.
Inside his chest something twisted painfully.
But he said nothing.
Because he already knew.
Power was everything in Zephyron.
And he had none.
Without another word, he turned and walked out.
Night had fully fallen over the city.
Streetlights buzzed overhead as Creed walked down a narrow alley several blocks from the guild hall.
The air smelled faintly of rain and garbage.
His ribs still ached from the tension in his chest.
He shoved his hands into his pockets and kept walking.
Then—
"Hey, trash boy."
Creed stopped.
He slowly turned around.
Two figures stood at the mouth of the alley.
Both wore the same shelter jackets he did.
Both had smug smiles.
They were orphans from his shelter.
Except now…
They had awakened abilities.
"What do you want?" Creed asked quietly.
One of them stepped forward.
"Who do you think you're talking to like that, punk?"
The taller one cracked his knuckles.
"You embarrassed the shelter today."
Creed frowned.
"I did nothing."
"Yeah you did," the boy sneered. "You showed everyone we raised garbage."
The first boy pointed to the ground.
"Get on your knees and apologize, trash boy."
Creed stared at them.
"Why should I?"
The boy's smile disappeared.
"I won't repeat myself."
The alley fell silent.
Creed felt his heart hammering in his chest.
For years he'd endured insults.
Years of mockery.
Years of silence.
But tonight…
Something inside him refused to bend.
He clenched his fists.
"No."
The taller boy laughed.
"Wow."
"Looks like trash thinks it has pride now."
He glanced at his friend.
"Let's show him what happens to disobedient punks."
"Gladly."
Before Creed could react—
They rushed him.
A fist slammed into his stomach.
Air exploded from his lungs.
Another blow struck his face.
Pain burst behind his eyes as he crashed to the pavement.
Kicks followed.
Ribs.
Back.
Shoulder.
Each strike blurred the world further.
He tried to stand.
Another kick dropped him again.
Laughter echoed in the alley.
Eventually the beating stopped.
The taller boy spat on the ground beside Creed's head.
"Stay trash."
They turned and walked away.
Their footsteps faded into the city noise.
For a long moment…
Creed didn't move.
Pain throbbed through every part of his body.
Blood trickled down the corner of his lip.
Slowly, trembling, he tried to push himself up.
Then—
The shadows on the ground shifted.
Creed froze.
The darkness beneath a nearby trash can rippled unnaturally.
A voice echoed inside his mind.
Cold.
Mechanical.
Ancient.
[System Initialization Complete]
Creed's eyes widened.
Floating text appeared before him like a translucent screen.
[Welcome, Host.]
[Necroshade System Activated.]
"…What?"
The words left his mouth as a whisper.
The system continued.
Primary Directive:
Devour Shadows.
Grow Stronger.
Another notification blinked into existence.
[Nearby Shadow Detected]
The shadow beneath the trash can trembled slightly.
Almost like it was alive.
Creed stared at it.
Then, instinctively…
He reached out.
The thin strand of darkness from earlier emerged from his own shadow.
It stretched forward.
Touched the other shadow.
And then—
It vanished.
Consumed.
A notification appeared instantly.
[Shadow Absorbed]
+1 Necroshade Essence
Creed blinked.
Something inside his chest shifted.
A strange warmth spread through his body.
The pain in his ribs dulled slightly.
His breathing steadied.
Stronger.
He felt stronger.
The system spoke again.
[First Skill Unlocked]
Shadow Devour
Creed stared at the glowing text.
For the first time that night…
A slow smile appeared on his face.
"Maybe…"
His voice was hoarse.
"…trash can grow after all."
Somewhere far above the world…
In a place where ancient darkness slept beyond human sight—
Something stirred.
And opened its eyes.