AN:Please comment as much as you can — I really want your help so I can improve.
The beginning of the new week didn't feel any different from the one before it.
The alarm buzzed at 06:30 like always, and Marie Williams opened her eyes into the same grayish half-light that filtered through her narrow, dirty window. She silenced the alarm with the practiced slap of someone who had no energy to spare and lay there for a moment longer, letting the ache in her bones remind her she was still alive.
Her dreams had been vague again. No faces. Just shifting colors and half-formed impressions. Lately, there had been a persistent sense of something looming—like a storm building on the horizon. It wasn't fear. Not quite. More like the sensation of waiting for something inevitable.
She exhaled sharply, throwing off her blanket. The air was as cold as always. No miracles had occurred during the night; the heater was still broken, the air still dry and metallic. She dressed quickly in the usual uniform, hands working mechanically. Shirt, skirt, jacket. The fabric was stiff with age. Her left sleeve had a frayed seam she hadn't had time to fix.
She tied her hair back in a tight ponytail, snatched up her datapad, and tucked her morning ration bar into her bag.
The week had begun.
Outside, Fortress City Wiesbaden looked as it always did: tired but standing.
Drones buzzed overhead, cleaning grime from the solar surfaces on rooftops or sweeping for unauthorized movement in alleyways. The roads hummed with the quiet efficiency of mana-powered trams, the distant blue glow of the filtration towers cutting vertical lines into the low morning haze.
Marie walked her usual route through Zone 3, head down, eyes alert but unfocused. Her path bypassed the market lines and checkpoint corners, weaving instead through narrow access lanes and across a dry aqueduct.
Other students occasionally passed her—most in small groups, laughing or complaining about the day ahead. No one acknowledged her, and she acknowledged no one in return.
The last few days, she had noticed more military presence at the district junctions. It wasn't unusual. But it wasn't normal either. Three days ago, a perimeter fence had been repaired along Nordplatz. Yesterday, a unit of Assoziation operatives passed through in full loadout.
Marie took note. She always did.
But she didn't ask questions. Not out loud.
At school, the gates opened at exactly 07:45. Marie arrived early and stood off to the side, watching the crowd funnel in like a river of uniforms.
She had another week of this. Maybe two. The official date for the Awakening trip hadn't been announced yet, but according to the internal school calendar—which she had, of course, hacked into—it was scheduled for the last Friday of the month.
Twelve days.
She wondered if it would be the day everything changed, or just another disappointment.
The first period was World History.
The teacher, Frau Lehner, was tall and sharp-featured, with a voice like brittle glass. Her lessons were clear, methodical, and completely void of warmth.
Today's topic was the Great Collapse of 2040—the year the Gates first appeared. A staple of the curriculum, taught every year with slight variations.
Marie listened closely, as she always did. History was useful. It didn't care who you were, only what you remembered.
"The militarization of civilian centers was a necessary measure," Frau Lehner lectured, clicking her presentation forward. "But it failed in over 60% of urban territories. Why?"
A student two rows ahead raised his hand. "Because modern weapons didn't work against system-bound creatures."
"Correct. And what was the international response?"
Marie's mind filled in the answers automatically: chaos, lockdowns, the rise of isolated city-states, and eventually the foundation of the Assoziation.
She glanced around the room. Half the class was daydreaming.
She didn't understand how they could be so uninterested in survival.
Second period was Science and Applications, a hybrid subject that mixed classical physics with early System theory.
They were discussing mana saturation in human tissue—something Marie had read about weeks ago. Mana accumulation was slow and harmless until the System activated. After that, it determined things like skill affinity, mana pool size, and regeneration rate.
Marie already knew her numbers.
At last year's medical screening, she had shown above-average passive saturation. Not high enough to be remarkable—but enough to make her cautiously hopeful.
Still, it didn't guarantee anything. There were cases of people with strong readings who awakened with nothing but passive traits. Or worse—curse-bound stats.
She took detailed notes anyway. If nothing else, information was power.
During the third-period break, she returned to the rooftop garden. As usual, it was deserted.
She sat on the same bench as always, legs tucked beneath her, and chewed quietly on a synthetic apple ration. It didn't taste like apple. It tasted like gelatin with artificial tang. But it filled the void.
A soft breeze moved through the dead planters, stirring faded leaves.
She glanced up at the sky. The clouds above Fortress City Wiesbaden were always the same—gray, close, and restless. She'd read that the mana filtration towers affected weather patterns. Something about atmospheric stabilization.
To Marie, it just made the world feel smaller.
The rest of the morning passed without incident.
Magical Theory involved resonance grids and theoretical spell matrices—topics she enjoyed. Physical Training was more tedious. She was placed in a team with two younger students who didn't understand formation patterns.
She didn't complain. She never did.
After school, she skipped the cafeteria and went straight to the Cold Weapon Club. It had become a sanctuary of sorts. A space where rules were clear and improvement measurable.
Tanaka-sensei handed her a practice blade today—a blunted longsword with a worn leather grip.
"You're switching forms today," he said.
She blinked. "Why?"
"Because you've plateaued with the staff. And you need to understand weight management."
She nodded.
The sword was heavier than it looked. Her first swings were awkward, her grip uncertain.
But she learned.
Every mistake burned into muscle memory.
By the time she returned home, her arms were sore and her hands blistered. The sun had dipped behind the shielded upper district domes, and the lower streets were already bathed in artificial dusk.
Marie passed through the checkpoint near her apartment without issue. Her ID tag pinged green. The guards didn't even glance up.
Inside her unit, the air was even colder than usual. She huddled under her blanket, microwaved her last nutrient pouch, and watched the timer tick down with mechanical detachment.
Dinner tasted like chalk and salt.
She opened her datapad.
Assignments. Messages. A notification from the school:
Subject: Awaken-Prep Medical Exam Reminder
Date: Scheduled for Thursday, 08:30.
Location: School Medical Office, Wing B.
She stared at the screen.
Nine days left.
She powered down the pad and lay back, staring at the ceiling. Her eyes traced the same cracks and water stains she saw every night.
Somewhere beneath the city, mana flows pulsed in steady rhythms.
The System waited.
She just had to hold on a little longer.