White couldn’t believe his ears.
He was going to be the first to be tested.
There were more than a hundred kids around him, and he was chosen as first.
He wanted to immediately argue, but when he looked into the eyes of that woman, it was clear she was going to throw him out the second he dared refuse, and in the end, he could only concede.
Forcing his spine to remain straight, he walked towards the altar, climbing all the way up.
Atop was something he had to blink twice to comprehend:
A glass ball, the size of a basketball, hanging in the air without any visible support.
Behind it were the other awakeners.
Three men, seemingly in their early 300s, whose eyes scanned Whitmore in interest and mockery.
But not mockery of his clothes, it was mockery of him drawing the ire of the golden-haired lady.
"Place your hand on the awakening orb."
She ordered behind him, and in that moment, Whitmore could swear his heart had switched place with his brain as his skull began to throb.
Debating for a second whether to use his right or left hand, he ended up stretching out both and placed them on the silver orb.
It was very cold to the touch, but nothing seemed to happen, even after 10 seconds passed.
"Tsk, a zero potential."
One of the men in front said, as Whitmore’s expression plummeted, but only for three seconds before he scoffed to himself.
’Who am I kidding? I must have gone insane to believe some lunatic golden panel could fix my condition.’
He turned back, trying to take his hand back, only for him to be roughly dragged back, his hands remaining pressed on the orb.
’Huh?’
The scene didn’t just occur to him, all four noticed.
FLICKER
Immediately, a reverberation occurred as the center of the silver orb began to glow.
"Oh?"
The lady behind him mused in clear surprise.
If one had potential, it ought to have shown immediately, yet his took 10 seconds.
"But the light is so low, this is only trashy E-grade at be—"
One of the men was still saying when a sudden burst of light exploded out of the orb with such power that everyone was instantly blinded.
It was like a second sun had risen, golden and flaming powerfully.
While everyone remained blinded, the light didn’t sting Whitmore, whose eyes widened in shock as he looked at the unbelievably bright golden orb, strands of his dirty blue hair flying around with the speed.
All of a sudden, Whitmore noticed cracks run across the length of the awakening orb,
"Is that!... Oh no."
The golden-haired lady’s expression changed as she reached forward to drag away him away but then,
BOOOOOM!
An explosion rocked the entire hall, blowing Whitmore and all four awakeners off the stage.
He tumbled from the three-meter-tall altar, expecting a painful landing, only to land against something soft.
The female Awakener had caught him just in time, saving him from a few broken bones.
Still, his body was covered in glass pieces from the orb as his consciousness slowly darkened.
The last thing he saw was the golden panel, holding an emboldened message:
[Let This Be The Last Time You Doubt My Existence.]
__
The darkness stretched for a very long time before eventually Whitmore felt his senses slowly return.
What hit him was the clear smell of the air, cold and calming, and touching so softly on his skin, he could feel his own hair quietly dancing to its waves.
He felt the control of his fingers return next, and quietly, his eyes opened up.
A faint golden illumination flashed out before it calmed, revealing simple blue irises.
He remained there, motionless for a while before a voice woke him.
"Awake?"
He shot upright, a chill racing down his spine, before immediately dropping back down as realization hit him.
"Oh Shii..."
He was in the air, not in an airplane, but resting on something soft, while the buildings below looked like miniature toys.
When he took a more careful look, he observed he was sleeping on the back of a large golden-furred beast, with two extra-large wings as it flew through the sky.
Horror filled him at first, but when he looked to the far side and noticed about a dozen students flying being flown by three more of the golden beasts, he visibly calmed.
The shitty situation seemed good now, because he wasn’t the only one stuck in it.
While a minimum of a dozen students flew on each beast, Whitmore’s area only consisted of him and the golden-haired lady, whose golden eyes blinked at him.
Seeing his embarrassing gripping position, he quickly straightened back to a more relaxed one, though his fingers dug hard into the beast’s fur.
"What’s up?"
"You destroyed the awakening orb."
She said matter-of-factly, and Whitmore’s expression pause before he cleverly replied:
"I’m guessing that’s what happens when someone passes, right?"
"No."
She replied curtly, and his smile quietly disappeared and he whispered with a sigh
"How much was it?"
Her eyes looked at him up and down his pierced clothes, quiet disgust, before she replied:
"Not something you can ever dream of affording."
"So, it’s forgiven then?" Whitmore replied, almost as if he was blind to the clear abuse in the words or couldn’t see her expression.
The sight of it made her face settle into a more neutral expression.
"You’re quite good with negative words, almost like they don’t bother you much."
"Most young talents like you, are always driven half insane by them."
She noticed, as Whitmore shrugged.
Getting put down by words?
Yeah, that had been happening ever since he was eight back at the orphanage.
In fact, it would be a crazy day for him if no one pokes and shamed him for something.
But he had learned one important thing about abusive words from a young age:
"The only thing they hurt is my ego, so I’m not much bothered by it."
He replied, and she paused at his response, visibly shaken before she smiled.
"That’s an interesting realization. Do you wish to know what grade your awakening is?"
She asked, and Whitmore’s attention instantly spiked, his heart pounding again,
He tried forcing it down appearing calm, but still, his words came out rushed,
"I really want to. What’s it? E-grade, or C-grade? D-grade?"
He asked hopefully, and she replied:
"It’s..."
She said matter-of-factly, and Whitmore’s expression pause before he cleverly replied:
"I’m guessing that’s what happens when someone passes, right?"
"No."
She replied curtly, and his smile quietly disappeared and he whispered with a sigh
"How much was it?"
Her eyes looked at him up and down his pierced clothes, quiet disgust, before she replied:
"Not something you can ever dream of affording."
"So, it’s forgiven then?" Whitmore replied, almost as if he was blind to the clear abuse in the words or couldn’t see her expression.
The sight of it made her face settle into a more neutral expression.
"You’re quite good with negative words, almost like they don’t bother you much."
"Most young talents like you, are always driven half insane by them."
She noticed, as Whitmore shrugged.
Getting put down by words?
Yeah, that had been happening ever since he was eight back at the orphanage.
In fact, it would be a crazy day for him if no one pokes and shamed him for something.
But he had learned one important thing about abusive words from a young age:
"The only thing they hurt is my ego, so I’m not much bothered by it."
He replied, and she paused at his response, visibly shaken before she smiled.
"That’s an interesting realization. Do you wish to know what grade your awakening is?"
She asked, and Whitmore’s attention instantly spiked, his heart pounding again,
He tried forcing it down appearing calm, but still, his words came out rushed,
"I really want to. What’s it? E-grade, or C-grade? D-grade?"
He asked hopefully, and she replied:
"It’s..."
White couldn’t believe his ears.
He was going to be the first to be tested.
There were more than a hundred kids around him, and he was chosen as first.
He wanted to immediately argue, but when he looked into the eyes of that woman, it was clear she was going to throw him out the second he dared refuse, and in the end, he could only concede.
Forcing his spine to remain straight, he walked towards the altar, climbing all the way up.
Atop was something he had to blink twice to comprehend:
A glass ball, the size of a basketball, hanging in the air without any visible support.
Behind it were the other awakeners.
Three men, seemingly in their early 300s, whose eyes scanned Whitmore in interest and mockery.
But not mockery of his clothes, it was mockery of him drawing the ire of the golden-haired lady.
"Place your hand on the awakening orb."
She ordered behind him, and in that moment, Whitmore could swear his heart had switched place with his brain as his skull began to throb.