Null: Awakening of the Abyss

Bones breaking are not as loud as people think.

More like a brittle branch snapped under a heel — brief and crackly, then swallowed by screaming. The girl — Mira, fourteen, skinny as someone who would’ve long ago forgotten what it felt like to be full — was pulled two meters across the asphalt until the carriage came to a halt. The horses snorted their disgust — as if even animals in this city knew who was worthy of being stepped on.

A man got out of the carriage. Dark blue robe, silver eagle crest emblazoned on his chest-Awakener Grade-B. His gaze roamed Mira’s body rolled onto the ground and froze on her left wrist. A tattoo of zero. Null.

Mira's heart was in her throat as the man fished something out of his pocket and tossed it near her head; a single shiny coin that glimmered at an acute angle.

"Compensation. Count yourself lucky."

The carriage moved on. People on the sidewalk walked around Mira like she was a puddle, something to avoid. Not a single one stopped.

Except for one hand.

"Take my hand. Don't look at your leg."

Seventeen, Ren Ashford raised Mira’s body with a tenderness that should not belong to anyone accustomed already to the sight of this. He brought her to the Null clinic — a small, windowless room that more closely resembled a storage shed than a treatment facility — and paid for everything out of pocket. This month's entire wage. Not a single coin left.

As he left, Ren glanced at the zero tattooed on his own wrist.

Tomorrow would be the last Awakening Ceremony for him.

Last chance.

The tiny house at the edge of the Null District reeked of medicine and rotten trees. Ren opened a door with crooked hinges to find his grandfather, Gareth Ashford, sitting in a wheelchair by the window. He was seated on a cloth smeared with red.

“You’ve been coughing blood again, Gramps.”

Gareth tucked the cloth beneath the blanket. "That's tomato sauce."

“We don’t have tomato sauce, Gramps.”

"...then it is blood."

Ren sighed, though the corner of his mouth curled up slightly. He grabbed a chair, sat next to Gareth and began cleaning the red stains on the floor without being solicited. Such a ritual had repeated itself far too often.

“Tomorrow, no matter what happens, no matter what that screen tells you-don’t believe it. His voice dropped to a whisper. “You’re not who that machine tells you you are. You hear me?"

Ren didn't understand. But there was something in Gareth’s voice that night — not the concern of an old grandfather. This was someone who thought they knew something.

"I promise, Gramps."

Gareth smiled. A smile too sad for the word ‘relief.’

The Awakening Academy Hall alone could accommodate a thousand people, and today it was full. Five hundred students queued a long line. From the upper balconies nobles watched as though it were a spectacle —and as indeed it was for them. Entertainment.

A soft blue glow filled the stage from a Crystal Orb at its center.

Students stepped forward one at a time. Every time the Orb flared bright, the hall roared with applause. Grade-A, Grade-B, an occasional Grade-S that brought thunderous cheers.

Then Dorian Hart walked up.

In the golden light that exploded from the Crystal Orb. The holographic screen blazed:

[Grade : SS- CLASS : SWORD SAINT - POTENTIAL: 99.97%]

The hall erupted. Nobles rose to their feet. Professors clapped. Somewhere in the mass of people there was Sera — Sera Valen, the girl who had always sat next to Ren for two years and whose hand he had once held in a rainstorm–staring up at Dorian with sights she’d never bestowed on Ren. Eyes full of awe.

"Next candidate — Ren Ashford."

Ren's steps felt heavy. He reached out and touched the Crystal Orb. The thing glowed dim — all but invisible — then fell dark. Completely dead. Like the very Orb itself, unwilling to recognize his presence.

The holographic screen flickered:

ਘਟਨਾ: ZERO ਭਾਗ: ਬਖ਼ਸ਼ ਵਜਨ: NULL -- ਚੋਣ ਮੋਕਾ: NONE -- ਸੰਭਾਵਿਤ ਅੰਕ %: 0.00%

Silence.

One second. Two seconds. Then something in the back row laughed. The laughter proliferated like a virus — first as silence and roaring, then thunder.” Five hundred students. A thousand spectators. Everyone laughing at some one person.

At the podium, Professor Aldric cleared his throat. “Ren Ashford, with this result you are hereby expelled from the Awakener Academy program. Please leave the stage."

Ren stepped down. His legs were moving and his mind was dead. And, among all those faces mocking him, he looked for one — just one — that might see him even now as human.

Sera turned away.

He found her in the rear corridor.

Sera wasn't alone. Her back against the wall, Dorian Hart’s mouth still on hers when Ren rounded the turn. They didn't stop. Sera simply opened her eyes — glanced over Dorian’s shoulder at Ren — and gently shoved the man backward.

No surprise on her face. No guilt.

“Ren, don’t look at me like that.” It had the flat quality of reading from a report. “I’ve been with Dorian for three months. I just really wanted to wait until today to make sure.”

"Make sure of what?"

"That you really are worthless."

Dorian looped his arm around Sera's waist to grin. "Don't blame her, Null. She just chose a future."

The house was dark.

Ren already knew something was wrong before he opened the door. The always creaky hinges of silence. The door was unlocked. Gareth had never left the door ajar.

His grandfather’s wheelchair lay overturned inside. They were bloodstains — red streaks scraped along the floor to the back door hanging open into dark. On the table, a letter. Gareth’s handwriting — shaking, hurried, some words illegible:

"Ren, forgive me. Someone came asking about something I’ve been keeping for years. Don't look for me. Don't trust the Sentinel Corps. And Ren — what you want is not zero. You are—"

The letter was torn. It had been ripped away with force, the bottom half torn to a jagged void in the paper. On the floor next to that pool of blood, someone had etched a symbol with a knife’s edge — a perfect black circle, emptiness at its center.

The Void symbol.

Ren dropped to his knees. They touched his grandfather's blood. His chest constricted — not from sobs but some thing in him shifting. As if something that was asleep for a really long time had finally opened its eyes.

Then the voice came. Not from outside. From within.

[Finally. You're alone. Good. Now we can begin.]

Ren's left eye flickered. For an instant, his iris darkened to deep purple, like a night sky washed clean of stars.

Then it went back to normal.

Nothing was normal after tonight.