The Altair City Awakening Center buzzed with anticipation. The scent of disinfectant mingled with the sweet tang of surging adolescent pheromones. Today was the day of reckoning. The day when the destinies of millions of eighteen-year-olds across Aethelgard would unfold, their Gifts manifesting, transforming them from ordinary civilians into Sealers, the primary line of defense against the relentless horrors of Aberrations from the Shattered Gate.
Amidst the roaring crowd, Eric stood with a pounding heart. His hands were clammy, dampening the cuffs of his slightly ill-fitting high school uniform. His perpetually messy black hair clung to his forehead. He wasn't tall, nor muscular, nor did he possess the prominent aura of some of his friends who already looked like battle-ready heroes. Eric was just... Eric. Ordinary. Yet, within him, a burning ember of hope flickered. Hope to become someone significant, someone who could fight the monsters that had claimed so much.
"Next up, Eric Jenson!" the female attendant's voice echoed through the hall.
Suddenly, all eyes turned to him. Some gazes were filled with curiosity, others indifferent. Eric swallowed hard, desperately trying to steady his trembling knees. He walked forward, past rows of already empty awakening pods, towards the foremost pod glowing with a faint blue light. Every step felt like crossing a minefield.
He stepped inside, feeling a familiar tingling sensation as the pod closed around him. A transparent screen before him displayed his rapidly accelerating heartbeat. He closed his eyes, praying to whatever existed in the universe for a powerful Gift. A Gift that would at least place him in Tier C or B. Even Tier A was a wet dream.
Several seconds passed. The silence inside the pod was deafening. Outside, he could hear nervous whispers and bated breaths. This was a sacred moment. The moment when destiny was forged.
Then, a strange sensation coursed through his body. Not the explosive surge of energy he had imagined, not a wave of heat or cold, but rather... a subtle rustle, like a barely perceptible breeze. Too gentle. Too... weak.
Eric opened his eyes. The screen before him flickered, then text appeared, glowing faintly.
GIFT AWAKENED: [Adaptive Catalyst] INITIAL TIER: F
Time seemed to stop. Eric read the text again. F. Tier F. The lowest tier. The tier branded as "useless." The tier of Sealers who more often became Aberration fodder than heroes.
The sounds outside the pod began to change. Whispers turned into murmurs, then clear sighs of disappointment. A girl in the front row covered her mouth, her eyes wide with disgust. Some young men began to snicker.
"Tier F? Seriously? We still have those in this generation?" "Poor Jenson. You'd better prepare your resume for an office job."
Eric's face burned. He could feel the stares of contempt and false pity piercing him. A disappointment. He was a disappointment. Not just to himself, but to the Awakening Center, to his friends, to the entire society that expected heroes.
The female attendant approached his pod, her face a mix of pity and forced professionalism. "Eric Jenson, your Gift has awakened. You are classified as a Tier F Sealer." Her voice sounded flat, as if she had uttered that sentence thousands of times to failed Sealers.
Eric exited the pod, his legs stiff. His eyes swept over the crowd. There was his friend, Liam, who had just awakened with a Tier C "Storm Fist" Gift, grinning at him with a mix of sympathy and mockery. There was also Sarah, the prettiest girl in their cohort, whose Tier B "Light Arrow" Gift had just been announced to thunderous applause. Both were now distant, beyond his reach.
He lowered his head, trying to avoid their gazes, and moved quickly towards the exit. He could hear whispers chasing him, like sharp thorns pricking his heart.
"Just a Tier F." "At best, he'll only be able to clean up Green Gate waste." "Or become bait."
The words burned. Eric clenched his hands, his nails digging into his palms. He wanted to scream, to prove them wrong, but what could he say? His stats were clearly displayed: F.
He quickened his pace, desperate to escape this judgmental hall as quickly as possible. The fresh air outside the Awakening Center felt cold, but it couldn't soothe the heat on his face. This was the beginning of everything, but not the beginning he had dreamed of. This was the start of his journey as an outcast, as the scorned "F-Grade Sealer."
Yet, deep within him, something whispered. A small, stubborn voice that refused to die. His Gift was named [Adaptive Catalyst]. Catalyst... Adaptive... What did that mean? He didn't know, but there was a strange urge, a faint intuition, that this was not the end. This was merely the worst possible beginning of something far greater. An anomaly. And Aethelgard was not ready for it.
The weeks following his Awakening were a living hell for Eric. The "Tier F" label clung to him like an invisible curse, shadowing his every step within the Sealer Training Center. No one wanted to train with him in group sessions. Instructors would glance at his name on the roster, then sigh deeply, looking away as if he were an unsightly stain.
"Jenson, you can join the 'general beginners' group over there," Instructor Ryle said dismissively, pointing to a small cluster of other Tier F Sealers practicing basic self-defense movements, far from the dynamic bustle of the more advanced Green Gate simulations. Instructor Ryle, a veteran Tier B Sealer with the "Mighty Shield" Gift, always carried a gaze mixed with pity and disappointment. Eric nodded stiffly, looking down, and joined the ranks of the "outcasts."
Each day was a painful reminder of his position. While other Sealers trained to channel their Gifts into dazzling energy blasts or elemental manipulations, Eric could only feel the faint hum of his [Adaptive Catalyst]. It felt like trying to light a fire with a wet match in the middle of a storm. He knew his Gift was unique, possessing the potential to evolve, but how could he develop it if no one gave him a chance? How could he kill Aberrations if he wasn't even allowed near a proper Gate?
"Look at that F-Grade. He can't even hold his basic stance," someone whispered behind him as Eric faltered in a posture drill. A crisp laugh followed. Eric clenched his fists, his teeth grinding. He hated this. He hated this feeling of powerlessness.
Eric's only small source of solace was when he could sneak into the Training Center library. There, amidst stacks of ancient books on Gift theory and old mission reports, he scoured for information on anomalies, on Tiers that could change. However, every article he found consistently affirmed the same thing: "A Gift is static. Once awakened, that is the limit of a Sealer's power." He was an unrecorded anomaly, an error in the system.
In the afternoons, after exhausting but fruitless training sessions, Eric often walked home alone. The city streets were filled with images of Sealer heroes, giant posters displaying Tier A and S Sealers smiling proudly beside the Aberrations they had successfully defeated. It was like salt in a wound. He imagined himself there, his power recognized, but it felt like an impossible dream.
Even his old friend, Liam, who used to play games with him, now kept his distance. Liam, with his Tier C "Storm Fist" Gift, had quickly joined more advanced training groups, surrounded by other ambitious Sealers. Occasionally, Liam would greet him with an awkward smile, but Eric knew it was just a formality. They were now in two different worlds.
"Hey, Eric!" a cheerful voice called from behind him one afternoon.
Eric turned, his heart giving a small thump. It was Sarah. Her bright blonde hair cascaded freely, and her sparkling green eyes radiated energy. She was a Tier B "Light Arrow," one of the most promising awakenings in their cohort. Male Sealers constantly surrounded her, but for some reason, she occasionally still greeted Eric.
"Hi, Sarah," Eric replied, trying to sound casual.
"Want to walk home together? I just finished a simulation session." She glanced at Eric's seemingly empty backpack. "What did you... uh... train today?"
Eric felt a sting of embarrassment on his cheeks. "Basic drills, as usual," he mumbled, avoiding Sarah's gaze.
Sarah nodded, her smile fading slightly. She probably sensed Eric's nervousness. "Ah, I see. Well, good luck. I heard there's a mid-level Green Gate simulation tomorrow for Tier C and above. It's a bit dangerous, but great for experience."
Eric just nodded again. The words "Tier C and above" felt like a thick wall he couldn't penetrate. He knew he would never be allowed to participate in meaningful missions if he was stuck in Tier F.
"Well, see you tomorrow, Eric!" Sarah waved, then turned at a street intersection, her steps light and energetic. Eric watched her back disappear, and a feeling of emptiness enveloped him once more.
He knew there had to be a way. There had to be something he could do to prove that his [Adaptive Catalyst] was more than just a joke. That night, in his small room, Eric pulled out his old phone. He didn't have much money, but he knew there were dark Sealer forums on the web, where desperate Tier F and E Sealers sought low-paying missions often overlooked by official organizations. Missions that were perhaps illegal, or too dangerous for the offered reward. Missions even in the most remote Green Gates, where no high-tier Sealer cared.
He took a deep breath. This was crazy. This was suicide. But if he wanted to break the Tier F curse, he had to take the risk. He had to hunt Aberrations himself.
He began typing, searching keywords: Private Green Gate missions. Low pay. Tier F accepted.