Pain.
It was the first thing Jason felt when his eyes fluttered open.
Not the emotional kind—though that always lingered—but raw, cellular-level torment. Like his blood was boiling one moment and freezing the next. His vision swam with streaks of neon light, and a low buzzing rang in his ears, like static bleeding into his brain.
He was sprawled across his bedroom floor, limbs twitching, shirt soaked with sweat. The chemical stink of the supplement stack from the night before still hung in the air. The empty mug sat on his desk, a faint trail of brown sludge dried along the rim.
[Alchemical Core Stabilized: 1%]
[Core Activity: Minimal]
[Warning: Biofeedback irregularities detected.]
[User state: Critical. Recommend immediate secondary stabilization.]
Jason groaned and rolled to his side. His fingers curled instinctively, only for sharp cramps to shoot through his forearms. His muscles weren't just sore—they were unraveling, like threads being pulled from wet fabric. He blinked through the blur, trying to focus on the floating interface hovering above him.
It was still there.
He hadn't hallucinated it.
The System.
The Alchemical Core.
And that name… "The Alchemist's Descendant."
Jason let out a rattling breath, pushing himself upright. Every movement sent tremors through his limbs. He reached for his desk, pulled himself up, and stumbled toward the mirror above his dresser.
His eyes.
They glowed faintly.
Not bright like the awakened students he saw every day—just a soft pulse of deep gold flickering beneath the whites. A residue of something ancient, something alien.
Then he noticed his hand.
The sigil was still there.
Etched into the flesh of his left palm, a black-gold spiral nested in an alchemical triangle. It pulsed once—slow and rhythmic—like it was syncing to his heartbeat.
Jason's stomach turned. He barely made it to the trash bin before vomiting bile and partially digested powder. The acrid taste of crushed herbs and chemical adaptogens coated his mouth.
He wiped his mouth, hands shaking. Then the interface pulsed again.
[Black Book Protocols - Tier I: Basic Stabilizers]
→ Initiating Recall of Formula: STABILIZER_0X1
A list appeared in his vision, familiar compounds and ratios sliding into place like puzzle pieces.
Jason blinked, confused for a moment.
"These... are basic," he muttered. "Stuff even the failed awakens had lying around."
It unsettled him. This wasn't some god-tier elixir or mutated organism secret. These were normal compounds—cheap, forgotten, mocked by most awakened as outdated junk science.
But his system wanted them. His system needed them.
Creatine Monohydrate: 5gTaurine: 1gL-Theanine: 200mgRhodiola Rosea Extract: 300mgSodium Bicarbonate: 1gWarm filtered water: 200ml
Jason's breath caught. It wasn't just guessing anymore. The System was guiding him—feeding him formulations as if his body were a living lab experiment.
He moved slowly, shakily, gathering what he could from the stashed stash in the false panel behind his closet. Half his supplement supply came from old school storage closets, leftovers from awakened dropouts who'd OD'd or failed to stabilize after experimentation. Most of it was gray market. Some of it was banned.
The shaker cup rattled in his hand as he added the powder, one scoop at a time.
He drank.
The taste was worse than the first one. Salty, bitter, chemical. It hit his gut like a brick. His body flared with heat, then ice, then something else entirely—like his nervous system was rewriting itself moment by moment.
His legs gave out.
He collapsed back into the corner of the room, gasping, twitching. Every breath sounded like it echoed in a cavern. And in that dark haze, something else flickered through his vision.
[Initiating Sub-System Alignment...]
[Neural Overclocking Risk: Elevated]
[Pineal-Synaptic Junctions Adapting...]
His vision sharpened… then split.
For a moment, Jason saw everything. Every particle in the air. The microfractures in his mirror. The molecular structure of his blood smeared on his hand.
And then—black.
He passed out again.
When he awoke, it was late afternoon. Dim, sickly light filtered through the reinforced window slats. His breathing was slow but steady. The pain was duller now. Still there, like embers under skin—but manageable.
The interface flickered.
[Alchemical Core Stabilized: 3%]
[Status: Functioning]
Jason stared at it.
Only 3%.
And that nearly killed him.
He dragged himself to the mirror again. The sigil had spread—just a bit. What shocked him most was that it wasn't just on his palm anymore. When he flipped his hand over, the exact same crest was burned into the back, perfectly mirrored. It was as if the sigil ran through the entire hand, etched through muscle and bone like it belonged there all along. Thin black lines now curled up his wrist like creeping vines.
He didn't know if that was a good sign.
But he knew one thing:
He'd survived another day.
And in this world, that was something.
Jason slumped into the creaking chair at his desk, one hand still wrapped around his forearm like he was afraid it might fall off. He opened his holopad, dimmed the screen, and activated passive net-crawl. He needed to understand what the hell had happened to him—and why the System chose him.
The device buzzed to life, the UI fragmented from a cracked screen but still functioning. A headline hovered on the center tile:
"Eight Years Since Divergence: Humanity Remembers the Erisflow Collapse"
Jason tapped it. A flood of visuals poured in.
Mutated coral reefs breaching the ocean surface. Cities swallowed by moss that pulsed and glowed like living nerves. Towering beasts, neither mammal nor reptile, climbing across broken highways and shredded military vehicles.
And then came the infamous still frame: The Wormhole Rift, erupting beneath the Pacific, tendrils of violet-black energy reaching skyward like the fingers of a dying god.
The narrator's voice played quietly:
"On November 2nd, 2027, the world changed. Wormholes—later classified as Erisflow Rifts—ripped through the crust of Earth's oceans and deep cave systems. They bled an unknown energy into our biosphere, igniting accelerated evolution in everything organic... and even some things that weren't."
Jason leaned closer. This was stuff everyone learned in year one. But now, it felt different—like it finally mattered.
"By the end of 2028, only twenty percent of the human population remained. Cities burned. Viruses mutated past immunity. Wildlife tore through military-grade barriers like paper. And then… came the First Awakened."
The screen showed a figure, cloaked in heat distortion, lifting a ruined tanker with glowing arms and throwing it into a mutated serpent.
Jason whispered, "Zion Mako..."
The first recorded human to awaken—able to withstand and channel the Eris Flow through his body like a living circuit. After him came others: fire-bearers, air-rippers, blood-melders, and eventually, the rise of Profession Cores.
"With no remaining governments, underground societies and refuge cities formed. Blackridge Base was among the first. Cities were rebuilt using awakened labor—Walls forged by Elemental Masons, Gates etched with Runic Arrays. Professions emerged, classified into Combat, Support, and Synthesis tiers. The System that now governs awakening protocols was first recorded in 2030."
Jason scrolled.
A data chart showed awakening and profession tier classifications:
Awakener Tiers:
Tier 1 – Passive Core: Minimal resonance with Erisflow. Limited abilities. Often unstable or undeveloped.Tier 2 – Stable Core: Functional resonance. Gains one or two low-grade abilities. Most common tier.Tier 3 – Harmonized Core: High compatibility. Profession-class abilities. Can channel Erisflow without collapse.Tier 4 – Sovereign Core: Rare. Manipulates Erisflow creatively or adaptively. Often seen as battlefield leaders.Tier 5 – Paradox Core: Legendary. Unknown mechanics. System-breaking. Dangerous. Suppressed by Council order.
Profession Tiers:
Common: Basic abilities with direct application (e.g., Kinetic Enhancer, Flame-Forged).Uncommon: Intermediate manipulation or hybrid skills (e.g., Array Master, Cryo-Shift).Rare: Abstract or reality-bending applications (e.g., Phasewalker, Chrono-Threader).Classified: Forbidden, lost, or soul-affecting (e.g., Soul Forger, Memory Architect).Kinetic Enhancer (Common)Flame-Forged (Common)Array Master (Uncommon)Phasewalker (Rare)Soul Forger (Classified)
He noted the distinction. The stronger professions weren't always rare—but the ones that manipulated reality or the self? Those were suppressed. Scrubbed.
He minimized the broadcast. His eyes hurt.
None of it explained why him. Why now? Why The Alchemist's Descendant.
He glanced at his palm again. The sigil still pulsed softly.
Suddenly, a light knock rattled his front door.
Jason stiffened.
He tapped his holopad and opened the hallway cam.
Two teenagers stood outside. One was tall and wiry, pale hair shaved on one side. The other wore a sleeveless compression vest, a black streak across his nose and a grin like he lived for fights.
Jason recognized them both from school.
Milo Venn — awakened with enhanced speed, laid-back but deadly when provoked.
Kale Stronem — kinetic brawler with an awakened force amp in each knuckle. Loud, aggressive, and too dumb to leave things alone.
Jason closed the holopad. He wasn't ready for this.
But the knock came again. This time louder.
"Milo said you were sick. Thought you might've gone under," Kale's voice called out.
Jason stepped toward the door, then paused. The sigil on his hand pulsed.
He pulled his sleeve down to hide it.
"Not today," he muttered.
He turned back toward his desk.
The holopad flickered.
[Next collapse event predicted: 4.6 days][Recommend immediate Tier II Stabilizer]
Jason stared blankly.
So be it, he thought.
If this world ran on systems…
He'd build his own.
By morning, his body felt like it had been hit by a rail gun. Muscles ached in waves, his throat was raw, and every joint moved like rusted hinges. But the shaking had stopped. The burning had faded. He was functional.
He packed light. A basic glucose vial, a compact stim shot, two adaptogen capsules in a cracked pill case—and, hidden deep in his side pocket, a slip of black cloth with an alchemical rune scrawled in faded gold. The sigil on his hand pulsed once as he slid it over his wrist to cover it.
The walk to the academy was quiet. The outer levels of Blackridge always were before noon: shield gates still recharging, sensor towers scanning for mutations in the perimeter woodline, soldiers doing warmups with gravity bands.
Jason passed under a billboard screen where yesterday's memorial footage looped again. Children watched from behind reinforced glass as a teacher narrated the Fall. One of the kids turned to wave at him. Jason didn't wave back.
The academy gates scanned his ID. They didn't register his awakening. Still the same old red bar.
[No Profession Core Detected – Access: General]
Blackridge Academy was massive—part fortress, part training ground, part lab. The central structure towered above the commons like a brutalist monolith, its gray exterior laced with energy filaments that pulsed faintly with regulated Eris flow. Every wall inside was lined with panels of adaptive metal designed to suppress energy surges. The building itself was alive with sensors.
The outer commons stretched around the main building like a courtyard compound. Reinforced synthetic trees provided cover for outdoor sparring, their roots embedded with shock-dampening arrays. Training dummies stood like statues—most of them melted or dented from prior drills.
On the east end, the Awakening Yard shimmered. It was where students took their Profession Resonance Tests: a field etched with rune-embedded plates and energy stabilizers, surrounded by tiered stands and surveillance drones.
Everywhere Jason looked, people moved with purpose. Clusters of awakened students practiced barrier formations under hovering neural-link drones, sparring at high speeds with kinetic bursts and aura-fused strikes. Some sat in meditation circles, Eris crystals glowing faintly at their cores as instructors monitored for breakthroughs.
Everyone was already sweating. Everyone glowed.
He didn't.
He kept his head down until he passed a group.
Milo Venn saw him first. "Dude. Thought you were dead," he called, flipping a weighted baton between his fingers.
Jason gave a dry smile. "Not dead. Just re-evaluating life choices."
Kale snorted. "Yeah? Must be hard re-evaluating when your Core reads empty."
Jason didn't answer. He just kept walking. They didn't follow.
Inside the lecture chamber, rows of students already filled the tiered seats. Jason found his seat in the back, scanning the room as others filtered in. Aven Rourke sat alone near the front, back straight, hands folded over her knees. Her long black coat was worn at the sleeves, and her expression was unreadable—like someone always halfway through a thought. She never spoke in class. But when she moved, the energy around her shifted just slightly, as if reality bent to give her room.
Most students whispered about her behind her back. No one knew where she was from—her background was blank, untraceable even in academy records. But she was brilliant. A genius with Eris thread manipulation, scoring near-perfect resonance scores despite never showing off. And she was—Jason hated to admit it—stunning. Raven-dark hair tied in a high braid, pale eyes that looked like they'd seen through more than one person's soul, and skin that almost seemed to shimmer beneath the artificial lights.
There was a quiet pressure to her presence, like she was always on the edge of doing something unexplainable. Jason sat in the back, as usual.
Instructor Veil entered, her coat lined with embedded biosensors. Her gaze swept the room—and for a moment, paused on Jason.
Then she spoke.
"Today's topic: Eris Harmonization and Core Reinforcement."
Jason sat upright.
A new term. One he hadn't heard outside his system's whispers.
Veil continued. "Most of you have stable Tier 2 or Tier 3 awakenings. Some of you were gifted strong Cores. Others... not so much. But harmonization is what separates power from chaos."
Jason's fingers curled around his covered hand.
She clicked her holopad, and a 3D diagram of a human Core projection hovered in the center of the room—its energy flow shifting in color and shape.
"Eris Flow adapts. It responds to belief, biology, trauma. But it also obeys systems. That's why the System exists—to give you a structure to survive your own power."
Jason swallowed. His system wasn't giving him structure. It was throwing him to the wolves and telling him to transmute his own spine into armor.
Aven Rourke sat three rows down, silent as always, fingers moving in subtle motions like she was already shaping Eris threads in her mind.
He wondered what her sigil looked like.
For the rest of the session, Jason listened. He memorized. He internalized every single term Veil uttered—because while the others trained in safety, he knew he only had 4.6 days until his body collapsed again.
And this time, he wasn't going to let it happen without leveling the entire equation.