A single slice of grey bread and a cup of bitter, scorched coffee. Janus stares into the dark liquid, hoping the caffeine settles the hollow thrumming in his gut. It is a Serf’s breakfast, he tells himself. He would rather prepare for the worst and be positively surprised than feel the humiliation of a public failure.

  Across the table, the atmosphere is different. His mother, Kaelen, and his eldest sister sit like statues of steel and leather. Their full combat armor clinks softly with every movement. They do not have to worry about nerves because they are feasting on Full Hunter meals. These are plates of seared monster meat and mana-enriched grains. They need the fuel to kill, whereas Janus only needs the fuel to survive the morning.

  "Ah, Janus," Kaelen says, her voice echoing slightly against her breastplate. "Good luck today. And calm down. Do not be disappointed if your Rank is low. Theron was a scholar; there is no shame in a quiet life."

  Janus catches his sister stifling a grin. Her eyes dance with a pity that burns worse than a slap. They are already mourning his future. They see his father’s quiet nature as a genetic dead-end, a glitch in a family of predators. Janus ignores them, finishes his burnt coffee, and goes to the door. He does not want to be a boisterous warrior, but he dreams of something else. Perhaps he could become a Magical Science Apprentice. He wants a chance to touch the world’s hidden gears. His most profound desire is just to be recognized as an important person and help people.

  "Son." A heavy, gauntleted hand drops onto his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks and turning him toward her. Kaelen’s grip is meant to be comforting, but the cold metal just makes him feel smaller. She caresses his face and removes a strand of his hair that falls near his eye. "You should cut your hair shorter, maybe paint it blond like mine. You know that color is a brand of failure. You look too much like the man who cost me everything.”

  She notices him wincing from the suggestion that his hair is a problem and says, “Regardless, we are here for you. Tell me the result the moment you are processed. And send my regards to Rick. I see a bright future for that boy."

  Of course she does, Janus thinks. He steps out into the pristine, smog-free air of Sector 2. Everyone does.

  The day is clear and the sun feels warm on his skin. Because of his mother’s high status, they live in an affluent part of the city, and he desperately wants a high grade so he does not jeopardize their household standing. If he lucks out and becomes a Sovereign, they might even move to Sector 1.

  Every city in the Empire follows this same descending spiral. They are divided into fifteen sectors, with Sector 1 crowning the peak and Sector 15 anchoring the base. In these cities, elevation is the ultimate currency; the higher you reside, the better the air, the more advanced the magitechnology, and the more prestigious the schools.

  Living above Sector 5 means living in the light, as the outward curve of the spiral allows for direct sun. Below that threshold, however, the city literally blocks itself out. There is always at least one sector looming overhead, casting the lower levels into a perpetual, dim twilight. But the shadows aren't the worst part. The deeper the sector, the thicker the magi-smog: a toxic, lingering cloud of corrupted mana born centuries ago during the Great Invasion when the human world was overrun by all the other races: Elves, Dwarves, Orcs, and some others.

  As he boards the tram, he thinks first about his mother’s recurring comments on his hair. He was born with blue hair like his father’s. In their society, that color is usually associated with people who possess terrible Mana Control. Their ranks are often low because they cannot develop their Mana Cores properly. That thought leads him back to the secret he has kept for five years, since he was thirteen.

  That was the year he first felt the hum of Mana. It is an extremely rare feat to feel and control Mana before touching the Codex Stone, even in a family as prestigious as his. His father warned him to keep it hidden, however. His mother would have turned his life into a grueling training camp the moment she knew. Only Rick and Lyza know the truth.

  As the tram descends and the thick, acrid smog of Sector 5 assaults his senses, his anxiety spikes. If he were an Enforcer or a Resident, he could stay in Sector 2. But if he falls below that, he wonders if his family would even want to move with him.

  "Janus! Wait up!"

  He slows as Lyza catches up to him. Her messy blue hair, like his, is windswept and her jacket is worn thin. He is as tall as she is, but as they are 18, he hates that he isn’t taller than her.

  Lyza is the pessimist of the group, but today her eyes are hard with determination. Janus feels the tension in his chest ease for a second. Lyza is one of the few people who does not look at him like a disappointment. This is mostly because she expects nothing from the world herself. Despite the way they lean on each other, there is no romance between them. Janus knows her secret: she has always carried a quiet, desperate crush on Rick.

  "You're walking like you're heading to your own execution," Lyza murmurs, bumping her shoulder against his. "Relax. If we both end up in the factory, at least we can sabotage the machines together."

  "Janus! Lyza!"

  Junia waves from the corner of the block, looking radiant even in her simple clothes. She has arrived at the meeting point early, scanning the area expectantly. A few moments later, a familiar face appears from the opposite corner: Rick. He looks as if he were born under a spotlight, standing a full head taller than Janus and Lyza. His unkempt golden hair is so legendary at school that other students have tried to dye their hair the same color and mimic the style. He is the kind of person who seems to apologize just for being perfect.

  Junia does not wait for him to reach the group. She runs forward and jumps into Rick’s arms for a kiss that feels like it belongs in a propaganda film.

  "Okay, guys," Janus groans as he and Lyza reach them. "There is a limit to the PDA I can take after breakfast. You do not need to use tongue in front of the unranked."

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Junia flushes, pulling back to protest, but Rick is faster. He slings an arm around Janus’s neck, grinning. "Would you prefer if we used tongue on your behind?"

  The laughter that follows is the only thing that feels real in the shadow of the looming Plaza.

  "Smart-ass," Janus mutters.

  "Says the guy who ranked first in the academy exams," Rick retorts. His eyes shine with genuine pride. "You're going to be a Sage, Janus. I can feel it."

  The Plaza was a vast expanse of white marble, bathed in the direct glare of the afternoon sun. To those from the depths, the open horizon was a marvel, but for Janus, living up in Sector 2, the air here felt slightly heavier, tainted by the faint, rising scent of the mid-level sectors.

  They joined the massive, slow-moving queue that snaked toward the center of the square. At the end of the line sat the Dais, a quartz platform holding the Codex. The book was the size of a tombstone, its heavy pages shivering with a low, rhythmic hum. Despite the warmth of the sun, wisps of freezing blue vapor bled from its binding, coiling into the air like ghost-fire.

  "What is that blue smoke?" Junia asks, her voice suddenly small.

  Janus looks at her, surprised that she hasn't read about this before today. He tries to hide his own frustration. "It’s just Mana, Junia. The excess bleed-off from the registration."

  "It looks cold," she whispers. She holds up her hand to show she is trembling, but it looks perfectly still. Janus ponders why she is pretending to be nervous, then he realizes she is not faking. Her mana is reacting before she even touches the Stone.

  "Next! Number 402!" a guard barks.

  Junia gulps. The friends put their hands on her back as if to pass their good energy to her. She walks up the steps, her legs looking like they might give way. When she touches the Stone, the air screams. Azure light erupts in a miniature storm. The Codex’s pages flip frantically and a floating feather pen begins sketching her face. It moves as if an invisible person is frantically writing on the page. Janus remembers that no one can interpret the language written in the book, which is why the government uses machines to translate it.

  "Junia Ward," the official announces. His boredom has vanished. "Class: Frost-Weaver. Potential Rank: B-Minus."

  Rick cheers so loudly the guards glare at him. A silver bracelet is locked onto Junia’s wrist. She stares at the metal band, knowing it will take ten days for the internal sensor to synchronize with her mana pulse. Only then will the bracelet’s display activate, locking in her stats and revealing the truth behind her 'Potential' rank. As she descends, Janus feels a Static growl in his chest. His own mana core is faintly reacting to her proximity.

  Junia returns to them, beaming with a new, ethereal energy. "By the Codex, I had the most beautiful vision when I touched the Stone! It was an icy field and an entity. And because of my rank, my family will be moved to a new apartment!" The group is thrilled and congratulates her loudly. Janus tries to match their enthusiasm, though he is the least heartened. He always feels she only tolerates his presence because of Rick.

  Lyza is called next, and the result is anticlimactic. The mana flows slowly and the pen moves as if it is tired: "Lyza Dove. Class: Unassigned. Potential Rank: F." A blue bracelet, which Janus thinks looks more like a shackle, is snapped onto her wrist. She leaves the dais looking devastated. Janus makes a mental note to find her later. He knows she would prefer seeing Rick, but he and Lyza share a deeper bond than she ever had with Rick. To Janus, she is more than a friend; she is a sister in every way that mattered.

  Then comes Rick’s turn. He walks up the dais with total confidence. When he touches the Stone, a deluge of mana spirals around him, shifting from blue to yellow before erupting into a blinding, solar gold. He is lifted off the floor, his mouth open in a silent shout as golden electricity crackles through his skin and light pours from his eyes.

  The wide-eyed guard stutters the announcement: "Ri-Rick Thorne! Class: Solar Sovereign! Potential Rank: S!"

  The crowd erupts. The hope of humanity is always renewed when a new S-Rank individual appears. They need all the help they can get to cleanse the Wasteland of the Abomination’s magical taint.

  A high-ranking official in ornate robes appears immediately to shake Rick's hand. They put a golden bracelet on his arm and lead him away. Rick waves to invite Janus to join him, but stops looking in his direction almost immediately and is led out of the Plaza. Janus feels Rick is already being swallowed by his new life.

  "Number 457."

  Janus steps forward. The air feels thick and the mana of the Stone clashes with his own. As his palm touches the surface, his vision shifts.

  He is in a void of total darkness. Before him stands a creature that makes his head pound. It is a dark mass of meat until a single eye opens in its stomach. Janus knows immediately it is an Abomination.

  “What are you?” Janus tries to shout. He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. It feels as if he is in a vacuum where air does not exist. He can see his own body clearly, but the world around him is an empty, silent abyss.

  "You can UNDERSTAND me!" the voice of the creature hisses in his head.

  “Telepathy?” Janus wonders. The abomination’s head is nothing but a maw of sharp teeth.

  "How INTERESTING! But you need to survive, my little PUP. If people find out about our little RENDEZVOUS here, you will be in BIG TROUBLE."

  The creature's body sprouts hundreds of eyes. All of them turn toward him. "Let me find YOU… Oh, I see where you are! I will give you a little GIFT!"

  A dark light erupts and the sound of Static fills Janus’s head. A violent pain blooms in his chest, spreading like roots through rich soil until it reaches his very extremities. He feels as if he is being frozen and burnt at the same time. He tries to scream again, but the silence of the void is absolute. Suddenly, the darkness shatters, and he is back in the Plaza.

  "Janus Vane. Class: Mage. Potential Rank: F?" The guard looks confused. "An F-rank mage? That’s a waste of a core. You're basically a flashlight with no batteries. Wait here, I will call my supervisor."

  Before the guard can move, a scream tears through the air. "ABOMINATION!"

  Janus panics, thinking they are shouting at him. But the crowd is looking at the sky. A massive rift has torn through reality. Building-sized tentacles are reaching through the hole. Normal people who look at the scene begin to foam at the mouth. Some even try to pluck out their own eyes in their madness.

  Janus looks right at the tentacles. He feels nothing but a strange, dark calm. High-ranked hunters fly toward the rift, only to be swatted like flies by the massive limbs. He remembers the creature's warning about big trouble. He is tainted now, and the Empire will show him no mercy. Fear finally moves his legs, and within a minute he is on the street, stopping only to look back at the horror in the sky. The creature has lost three tentacles, but Janus feels its eyes are still fixed on him, tracking his minuscule form through the chaos.

  A dark cloud begins to billow from the rift, spreading out from the base of the tentacles and casting a shadow over the screaming crowds. Janus realizes with a jolt of horror that the cloud is not made of gas or smoke. It is a massive, swarming cluster of monsters, thousands of them clinging to one another as they begin their descent into the city.

  Before he can see where they will land, a hand clamps onto the nape of his neck. The grip forces his head down so he can no longer look at the sky, while another hand grips his arm and yanks him sharply into the darkness of an alleyway. It is Lyza.