Rain hammered the academy courtyard, turning the world into a blur of cold grey. Beneath the towering marble archway, Zane Cross stood alone, his torn clothes soaked and clinging to his battered body. Cuts and bruises marked his skin, blood trickling slowly down his arm in thin red lines. But the sharp sting of betrayal pressed heavier on his chest than any wound, burning deeper than the pain of flesh and bone.
"By order of the Council of Awakened, Zane Cross — Rank F — you are hereby expelled," the head instructor declared, his voice echoing across the courtyard like a hammer striking stone. "Effective immediately."
There was no trial. No defense. No mercy.
The gathered students stood beneath umbrellas or summoned magical shields, sneering openly, their whispers sharp as blades, dripping with venom and disdain:
"Pathetic."
"Trash."
"F-Rank loser."
They spoke the words loud enough for him to hear. Loud enough so that their hate would scar as deep as any blade. Their faces were twisted with disgust, but beneath their mockery was something more fragile: fear. Fear of weakness. Fear of being associated with him.
Their insults were their armor.
Zane kept silent. His fists trembled at his sides not from fear, not from shame but from the weight of the thing sleeping deep inside him. The thing no one else could see. The thing that waited.
Instructor Vale stood at the front of the mob like a victorious warlord, pristine black robes fluttering despite the storm. His golden crest shone proudly on his chest, a badge of authority, a symbol of power. But in that moment, to Zane, it looked like nothing more than a rusted chain pretending to be gold.
"Nothing to say for yourself?" Vale sneered. His sharp grey eyes narrowed, waiting for Zane to break, to shatter, to fall to his knees and beg for mercy like so many before him.
But Zane didn't move.
Slowly, he lifted his head. Wet strands of black hair clung to his forehead, framing sharp, cold eyes that burned not with rage but with quiet fury. A storm of his own raged behind those eyes. A storm they couldn't begin to understand.
They wanted him broken. Shattered. Gone.
But Zane was far from finished.
"I don't need to say anything," he muttered, his voice steady, too steady for a boy who had just lost everything. No desperation. No pleading. Just a quiet confidence that spoke louder than words ever could.
For a moment, just a moment, Vale's smirk faltered.
Then it happened.
A soft ding echoed in Zane's mind. Subtle. Quiet. Private.
[Hidden Trait Unlocked: LIMITLESS GROWTH]
[Skill: Adaptation — Active]
[Current Potential: Undefined]
His heart skipped once, twice. The cold inside him shifted not weakness, not despair but something different. Sharp. Dangerous. Alive.
Zane smiled for the first time that day, and it wasn't a nice smile. It was sharp. Crooked. Dangerous.
They thought they'd thrown him away, discarded like trash. But all they'd really done was take off the leash.
"Enjoy your victory," Zane said quietly, his tone soft as silk, sharp as daggers. Then he turned his back on the academy, on the instructors, on the sneering, privileged students.
Let them have their moment. Let them laugh.
Because when he returned… they would remember this day for the rest of their miserable lives.
With each footstep echoing sharply against the wet stone, he left them behind, one step at a time.
The boy they knew was gone.
‐--------------------------------
The streets were empty, the rain kept people indoors, hiding behind warm fires and comfortable illusions of safety.
Zane didn't care. Not about the cold, not about the whispers still echoing in his mind, not even about the Academy for the Awakened now looming behind him like a decaying monument. It was supposed to be his future. His key to power. His escape from everything that had haunted him his whole life.
Instead, it had become the crucible of his humiliation.
But as he walked through the relentless downpour, something inside him stirred. A heat, subtle and steady, warming the cold ache of betrayal.
[Hidden Trait Unlocked: LIMITLESS GROWTH]
The words hung in his mind like prophecy. Like a promise.
His body ached. Every step sent a jolt of pain through his muscles. His shoulder was bruised. His left wrist was sprained, possibly broken. But the pain didn't matter anymore not when weighed against what was to come.
His mind drifted back to how it all began. His failure during the Awakening Ceremony.
When his magic core was tested, it had revealed a pathetic Rank F barely measurable. The worst possible result. And in a world built on strength and ranking, an F-Rank might as well have been a death sentence. No noble family would take him. No guild. No master. He was destined to live as a shadow, a whisper behind stronger men.
That's what they'd told him.
But they didn't know what he knew now.
They didn't see the system like he did.
[Skill: Adaptation — Active]
What did that even mean? Adaptation. Was it growth? Change? Evolution?
He didn't know yet. But he would. And when he did…
They would all regret it.
Zane's house wasn't much. A cramped, two-room building on the far edge of the eastern district. Cheap, weathered wood, patched with iron nails and frayed rope where the boards didn't quite meet anymore. His father used to call it "home" before the mines claimed him.
His mother had followed a year later. Not from sickness or war, but from hopelessness. A slow, silent kind of death.
The world didn't care about people like Zane. Not unless they rose high enough to make the world notice them.
But Zane wasn't going to rise.
He was going to break the world open from the inside.
As he pushed open the door, water dripping from his hair and sleeves, the familiar creak greeted him like a bitter old friend. The inside was as empty as his childhood memories, bare walls, a thin mattress, a cracked basin.
Home.
He sat down on the floor, water pooling around his legs, ignoring the cold that gnawed at his bones.
Then another soft chime echoed in his mind.
[Condition Met: Pain Threshold Exceeded]
[Adaptation Progressing: Minor Increase in Physical Endurance]
His lips curled upward again, this time with something close to genuine amusement. Even pain was fuel now. Every bruise, every insult, every broken bone would be sharpened into a weapon.
Let them mock him. Let them kick him while he was down.
Soon, they'd all be kneeling.
Soon, they'd be the ones begging.
For the first time in his life, Zane Cross felt something dangerous blooming in his chest not hatred, not sorrow but hunger.
A hunger for more.
More strength.
More power.
More.
He looked at his trembling hands, fingers curling into fists, feeling the faint hum of the system beneath his skin like a sleeping serpent.
Limitless Growth.
That was what the system had promised. Undefined potential.
Not low. Not weak. Undefined. Limitless.
He didn't have a path to follow yet. No master techniques. No ancient weapons. No secret legacies waiting to be unlocked.
But he had something better.
He had nothing to lose.
---------------------------------
Morning came, slow and ugly, dragging grey clouds across the sky like bruises on a sick man's skin. The rain had softened to a steady drizzle, mist curling through the streets of the eastern slums. Smoke rose from distant chimneys, but none from Zane's home.
There was no fire. No warmth. Just him, soaked, cold, alive.
Alive.
More alive than he had ever been.
With stiff limbs, he stood, rolling his shoulders slowly as the Adaptation skill worked silently beneath the surface, stitching his body back together with sluggish precision.
This was just the beginning.
Zane Cross wasn't going to save the world.
He wasn't going to be their hero.
But he would make sure they never forgot his name and by the time they realized their mistake, it would already be far too late.
Suddenly, a buzzing sound came from Zane's pocket as he took out his cheap, battered phone as he glanced at the cracked screen, her name lighting up in pale white letters: Aria. With a slow breath, he answered, pressing it to his ear. Her voice came through soft, distant, already slipping away. "Zane… I'm sorry. I can't do this anymore. After everything that happened, the expulsion, the rumors, my family's furious. They're threatening to disown me if I stay with you. I… I have to think about my future." There was a pause, only the sound of rain filling the space between them. "I hope you understand." And just like that, the line went dead, leaving Zane alone with nothing but the fading hum of betrayal and the soft voice of her goodbye.