Silver Moon City. The 37th Royal Preparatory Academy. The Awakening Plaza.
The atmosphere was heavy enough to crush bone. Every instructor and cadet stood in rigid silence, eyes glued to the teenagers walking up to the altar one by one.
They were waiting for a miracle. They weren't getting one.
[System Alert]
Mana Affinity: Zero.
Talent: Dormant.
Next Subject: Cadet #1125.
[System Alert]
Mana Affinity: Zero.
Talent: Dormant.
Next Subject: Cadet #1126.
[System Alert]
Mana Affinity: Zero.
Talent: Dormant.
Next Subject: Cadet #1127.
The cold, synthetic voice echoed across the plaza, mechanically crushing dreams with every announcement. The students felt like an invisible hand was squeezing the life out of their chests.
"We've tested over a thousand kids," one instructor muttered, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Not even a single F-Rank? Is the 37th Academy cursed this year?"
On the high platform, the Dean’s face was dark. He looked like he’d aged ten years in ten minutes.
But while everyone else was drowning in anxiety, one boy in the crowd just looked confused.
Holy sh*t, Lance thought, staring at his hands. I actually transmigrated? And... wait. A hundred thousand years in the future? You have got to be kidding me.
The memories flooding his brain weren't a dream. This was real.
The 21st century was ancient history. Humanity had gone full sci-fi, conquering the galaxy and colonizing millions of planets.
And him? He was Lance now. A student at a mediocre academy. The good news: school didn't involve textbooks anymore. Thanks to "Neural Consciousness Transmission," you could download theory directly into your cerebral cortex. No more studying.
The bad news: the curriculum was all about [War Arts] and [Mana Energy].
According to his new memories, the top-tier elites of this era could literally wave their hands and detonate stars. Tearing apart a sun or crushing a moon wasn't mythology here. It was Tuesday.
Lance felt his blood boil. Okay, that is objectively awesome.
Then he checked his stats.
Wait. This body is trash.
He’d been training in War Arts since he was twelve. Three years of grinding. And the result?
A punch force of 340 kilograms.
Are you serious? Lance felt a headache coming on. If I don't trigger a talent at this ceremony, I'm going to end up a corporate wage slave in a cubicle for the rest of my life.
He reviewed the data again. 100-meter dash in 5 seconds. One-arm lift of 340kg. Back in the 21st century, he would have been Captain America. Here? He was the guy who got picked last for dodgeball. He wasn't the absolute worst, but he was definitely bottom tier.
The entrance threshold for the [Advanced War Academy] was 500 kilograms of force. He was miles off.
That’s why everyone was so tense. This ceremony was the "Hail Mary" pass. Awakening a Talent—even a garbage F-Rank one—granted you "Privileged Status." It was an automatic golden ticket to an Advanced Academy.
The Unified Martial Exam was in three days. Based on his stats, he was going to fail hard. This Awakening was his last lifeline.
Boom.
A violent shockwave of energy blasted from the central apparatus, nearly knocking the front row off their feet.
Lance snapped out of his existential crisis. Every head in the plaza whipped toward the stage.
A girl with crimson hair stood in the center of the machine. She wasn't just standing there; she was on fire. Literally. Roaring flames engulfed her, twisting and dancing like living things.
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The crowd gasped.
Elemental Type. Even the worst Elemental talent started at D-Rank. And D-Rank meant a guaranteed spot in the Imperial Capital's elite academies.
[System Announcement]
Subject: Cadet #1451 (Year 3)
Talent Acquired: [Flame Mastery]
Rank: C
The electronic voice boomed in everyone’s minds. The faculty on the high platform practically exploded with relief.
"My god. A C-Rank. Actual C-Rank Flame Mastery."
"We’re saved! The 37th Academy is going to be famous in Silver Moon City after this."
"We haven't seen a C-Rank in three years. Maybe four."
"That's Lorraine, isn't it? The Duke's daughter from the Lorraine Consortium. If she gets into the Imperial War Academy, their stock is going to the moon."
The teachers looked at Lorraine like she was made of solid gold.
Lorraine stepped out of the machine, the flames dying down. She looked bored.
Finally, she thought, flicking a stray hair from her face. I knew that expensive alchemy potion wasn't a scam. Imperial Academy, here I come.
She had expected this. Rank C was acceptable.
"Lorraine..." Lance watched her walk down. Of course it’s her. The rich girl.
He knew who she was. Top ten in the academy. Her base strength was already over 800kg. She was born in the penthouse; he was born in the basement. They weren't even playing the same game.
Although... they did have a bit of history.
[System Alert]
Next Subject: Cadet #1452.
Prepare for Awakening.
The robotic voice cut through the chatter.
Lance took a deep breath. His heart hammered against his ribs.
Alright. Showtime.
He stepped forward. Cadet #1452. That was him.
"Good luck, Lance."
Lorraine stopped just as they passed each other, her voice low but sincere.
Lance paused, surprised. "Thanks. I’ll need it."
He nodded politely, then stepped into the Awakening apparatus. The runes etched into the metal floor hummed beneath his feet.
Vrummm.
An Complex, arcane wave of magic washed over him.
Boom.
The invisible force slammed into his limbs. Deep inside his body, Lance felt a spark. A tiny flicker of Mana Energy ignited, like a rusted lock clicking open for the first time in years.
It lasted for a nanosecond. Then it vanished.
The energy fluctuation was so pathetic that even the high-level instructors standing ten feet away didn't notice it.
"Another failure," the Dean sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Well, can't be greedy. We got Lorraine. That’s enough to save our budget for next year."
The other faculty members nodded, pens ready to mark another zero on their clipboards.
Then the machine spoke.
[System Announcement]
Subject: Cadet #1452 (Year 3)
Talent Acquired: [Minor Cellular Activation]
Rank: F
The plaza went dead silent for a heartbeat. Then it exploded.
"Holy sh*t! Another one?!"
"Back-to-back Awakenings? The odds of that are... astronomical."
"Wait, is that Lance from our class? That lucky bastard! I thought he was doomed to flip burgers, but now he's got a ticket to an Advanced Academy!"
"It's just [Minor Cellular Activation], though. Isn't that universally agreed to be the most useless support talent in existence?"
"Who cares if it's trash? It's a Talent. He's better than us 'zero-affinity' normies now."
Envy dripped from every word. Even a garbage F-Rank talent was a golden ticket. Out of the seven or eight thousand students at the 37th, less than ten percent would make it to an Advanced War Academy. The rest? Cannon fodder or minimum wage slaves.
Inside the machine, Lance clenched his fists. He felt stronger. Not much, but enough to notice.
Minor Cellular Activation, huh? He gave a self-deprecating smile. Faster healing for paper cuts. Great. Well, at least my base strength went up. Better than nothing.
Then the world shifted.
Ding.
Detected Host Talent: [Minor Cellular Activation] (Rank F).
Scanning for Exploits...
12 Trillion Exploits Found.
Execute Patch? [Y/N]
A mechanical voice, crisp and cold, echoed directly in his skull.
Lance’s pupils shrank to pinpoints.
What the hell? His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. Host? Exploits? Is this... my cheat code?
He almost screamed out loud. Floating in his vision, overlaying reality, was a translucent blue interface.
It's real. It's actually real.
Panic flared. Wait. If I patch this, will the machine explode?
He was standing in front of the entire school. If he triggered some god-tier anomaly, he'd be dissected in a lab before dinner.
System, is this stealthy? he thought frantically.
[System Response]
Optimization process is imperceptible to external sensors.
Duration: Microseconds.
Lance let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Stealth mode. Perfect.
He didn't hesitate. He wanted to see just how broken this system was.
Do it.
[System Command]
Executing Patch...
SNAP.
Time froze. The noise of the crowd cut out. The wind stopped.
BOOM.
A torrent of energy—vast, ancient, and terrifying—flooded Lance’s body. It wasn't magic; it was raw power.
Every cell, every strand of DNA, every muscle fiber was being torn apart and stitched back together. It was evolution on fast-forward. His genetic code was being rewritten, optimized, and overclocked a million times over.
If time hadn't been frozen, he might have screamed. But in this suspended reality, the agony and the ecstasy happened in an instant.
Vrummm.
The reconstruction ended. The storm in his veins settled into a deep, rhythmic thrum.
Ding.
Patch Complete.
Talent Evolved.
Old Talent: [Minor Cellular Activation] (Rank F)
New Talent: [Undying God-Body]
Rank: SSS
Lance stared at the blue box, his brain short-circuiting.
[Undying God-Body] (Rank SSS)
Description: Your physical form has achieved conceptual immortality.
Current Limitation: Due to low Host Level, auto-repair is disabled if body destruction exceeds 99%.
Future Potential: Upon reaching [Legendary] status, physical and spiritual annihilation will be irrelevant. You can respawn infinitely from the memory anchors of other living beings.
Holy... Lance swallowed hard. F-Rank to SSS-Rank? That’s not an upgrade. That’s a goddamn cheat code.
