Leor Nova was flying.

  Not falling.

  Not drifting.

  Flying.

  The wind didn’t roar in his ears—it obeyed him. The clouds weren’t obstacles—they parted. The sky stretched endlessly above and below him, a sea of white and gold illuminated by a rising sun that painted the world in molten light.

  He laughed.

  The sound echoed freely in the open air.

  Below him, cities shrank into toy blocks. Highways became silver threads. Mountains looked like folded blankets. Nothing bound him. No gravity. No weight. No fear.

  He lifted higher.

  The air thinned, but he did not suffocate. The cold bit at his skin, but it did not freeze him. He reached forward and—

  The sky rippled.

  Like glass.

  A crack ran across the horizon.

  Leor slowed.

  The crack deepened, spreading like a spiderweb across the heavens. The clouds trembled. The light fractured. The world tilted.

  Something pressed against him.

  Not wind.

  Not gravity.

  Pressure.

  A force he couldn’t see.

  He pushed back instinctively—

  —and everything shattered.

  Leor jolted upright in bed.

  His chest heaved. His palms were damp. Morning light filtered through his curtains in thin stripes, pale gold and quiet.

  He stared at the ceiling.

  “Flying again…” he muttered.

  Today.

  It was today.

  Awakening Day.

  He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat there for a moment, steadying himself.

  In this world, no one knew where innate abilities came from. Scientists had theories—genetic anomalies, dimensional radiation, evolutionary leaps. Religious groups called it divine marking. Conspiracy forums said the government knew more than it admitted.

  But the truth?

  No one knew.

  All anyone did know was this:

  At fifteen years old, every person awakened.

  Some gained minor abilities—lighting a spark on their fingertip, hardening their skin slightly, changing their hair color at will.

  Some gained powerful ones—gravity manipulation, teleportation, molecular combustion.

  And some…

  Some gained nothing useful at all.

  Leor exhaled slowly.

  “Please,” he whispered to no one. “Let it be flight.”

  Everyone wanted something cool.

  Flight was universal.

  Freedom.

  Escape.

  Power without touching the ground.

  He stood and crossed to his mirror. Messy dark hair. Sharp eyes. Lean build. Nothing about him screamed destined hero.

  Just a regular fifteen-year-old.

  He clenched his fists.

  “Today changes everything.”

  The city outside buzzed louder than usual.

  Neo-Arcadia wasn’t futuristic, but it wasn’t ordinary either. Elevated train lines curved between buildings. Digital billboards displayed ability-training academies. Drones drifted lazily above traffic lanes. On the sidewalk, a woman casually levitated grocery bags beside her.

  Abilities were normal.

  Integrated.

  Regulated.

  The government required every awakened individual to register. High-tier abilities were scouted early. Special schools existed for combat, rescue operations, industrial use.

  Power shaped society.

  Leor stepped out of his apartment building and inhaled deeply.

  Across the street, his childhood friend Arin leaned against a lamp post, hands in his hoodie pocket.

  “You look like you saw a ghost,” Arin said.

  “I was flying,” Leor replied automatically.

  Arin blinked. “Already? Bro, awakening doesn’t work through dreams.”

  “I know that.”

  “Then stop looking like you already lost.”

  Leor frowned. “You’re not nervous?”

  Arin shrugged. “If I get something cool, great. If not, I’ll open a food truck.”

  “You’re insane.”

  “You’re dramatic.”

  They started walking toward Central Hall.

  All around them, fifteen-year-olds flooded the streets. Some excited. Some pale. Parents hovered nearby, pretending not to be anxious.

  Above Central Hall’s entrance, massive letters glowed:

  AWAKENING CEREMONY – DISTRICT 7

  Leor’s pulse quickened.

  Inside, the hall was enormous. Rows of seats curved around a central circular platform made of polished white stone. Officials in dark uniforms stood near scanning devices. Medical staff waited nearby.

  Just in case.

  Because awakenings weren’t always gentle.

  A man stepped onto the platform. Tall. Calm. Silver hair tied neatly back.

  “Good morning,” he said, voice amplified without a microphone—some subtle ability, perhaps. “Today marks your transition into potential.”

  A ripple of nervous laughter passed through the crowd.

  “As you know, your innate ability will awaken naturally. The platform will monitor energy fluctuations and ensure stability. Do not resist the process. Do not panic.”

  Leor swallowed.

  Names began to be called.

  One by one, students stepped onto the platform.

  A girl near the front suddenly ignited in blue flame—but the flames didn’t burn her clothes. Gasps filled the room.

  “Pyrokinetic manifestation,” an official confirmed calmly.

  Applause erupted.

  Next, a boy vanished—then reappeared three meters to the left, disoriented but grinning wildly.

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  “Short-range teleportation.”

  Another student’s skin crystallized like quartz.

  “Defensive transmutation.”

  Some awakenings were subtle. One boy simply blinked and announced he could perfectly recall any sound he’d ever heard.

  Some were flashy.

  Some were strange.

  Leor’s stomach tightened with every name called.

  “Nova, Leor.”

  The world quieted.

  He stood.

  His legs felt heavier than they should.

  Step by step, he approached the platform.

  The polished surface reflected his nervous expression.

  He stepped onto it.

  For a moment—

  Nothing.

  The hall felt too large.

  Too silent.

  Then—

  Pressure.

  Not pain.

  Pressure.

  It began at his chest. Spread outward. Like invisible hands pressing against him from every direction.

  His breath hitched.

  The air thickened.

  His vision blurred slightly.

  Something inside him… moved.

  No.

  Shifted.

  As if a door had opened in a place he didn’t know existed.

  The pressure intensified.

  His knees nearly buckled.

  Push back.

  The thought wasn’t conscious.

  It was instinct.

  Push back.

  The invisible weight bearing down on him felt wrong.

  Unnatural.

  So he did.

  He pushed.

  There was no physical movement.

  But something surged from him—

  The air exploded outward.

  A shockwave blasted across the hall.

  Seats scraped violently across the floor. Papers flew. Several students yelped as wind slammed into them.

  Officials staggered.

  The pressure vanished instantly.

  Leor stood at the center of a clearing—everything around him shoved back in a perfect circle.

  Silence.

  Absolute silence.

  He blinked.

  “I—”

  The air around him trembled again.

  He felt it now.

  The invisible layer surrounding everything.

  The atmosphere itself.

  He focused.

  Gently—

  He pushed.

  A concentrated burst of wind shot forward like a cannon blast, slamming into a reinforced wall panel with a thunderous boom.

  Gasps erupted.

  “What was that?!” someone shouted.

  Leor stared at his hand.

  He hadn’t touched anything.

  Hadn’t punched.

  Hadn’t moved.

  He had simply…

  Pushed.

  The silver-haired official regained composure first.

  “Energy readings?”

  A technician stared at her tablet. “It’s… not elemental. It’s not telekinetic either. It’s—”

  Leor tested it again, carefully this time.

  He focused on the air immediately around his body and pushed lightly.

  His clothes fluttered outward.

  Interesting.

  He pushed downward—

  —and lifted three centimeters off the platform.

  His heart skipped.

  The crowd murmured loudly now.

  He pushed harder downward—

  —and rose half a meter into the air.

  He wasn’t flying.

  He was pushing the atmosphere beneath him.

  Using it as a platform.

  His breath quickened.

  Hope flared.

  The dream—

  Then something else occurred to him.

  Experiment.

  He focused inward.

  There was a faint ache in his shoulders from tension.

  He imagined that ache as something tangible.

  Something that could be expelled.

  He pushed.

  The ache vanished.

  Not numbed.

  Removed.

  His eyes widened.

  That was—

  He turned his focus outward again, scanning instinctively.

  Arin stood near the front row, staring in shock.

  Leor felt something subtle radiating from him—nervous energy. Rapid heartbeat. Minor muscle tension.

  Without fully thinking it through, Leor extended his awareness and pushed—

  Arin suddenly straightened.

  His expression shifted from anxiety to blank calm.

  “What did you just do?” Arin mouthed.

  Leor’s pulse pounded.

  He had felt it.

  The tension.

  And he had pushed it away.

  The officials were whispering urgently now.

  “Classification?” one asked.

  The technician swallowed.

  “It appears to be a vector-based force emission ability. But it’s not limited to physical objects. He’s interacting with atmospheric density… internal biological states…”

  The silver-haired official looked directly at Leor.

  “What is your ability?”

  Leor lowered slowly back onto the platform.

  He stared at his hands.

  At the invisible world around him.

  At the air itself.

  He exhaled slowly.

  “I can push,” he said.

  A ripple of confused murmurs followed.

  “Push what?” the official asked.

  Leor met his gaze.

  “Anything.”

  The word settled heavily in the hall.

  Because everyone understood what that meant.

  Anything?

  Objects.

  People.

  Forces.

  Conditions.

  Pain.

  Fatigue.

  Maybe more.

  The silver-haired official’s expression hardened—not in fear, but in calculation.

  “Leor Nova,” he said carefully. “Welcome to awakening.”

  Leor looked up toward the ceiling.

  Toward the sky beyond it.

  He hadn’t gotten flight.

  Not exactly.

  But he had something else.

  Something vast.

  Something terrifying.

  And as he stood there in the center of the hall he had just blown apart with a single instinctive motion—

  He felt it again.

  That pressure from his dream.

  Only this time…

  It wasn’t crushing him.

  It was waiting.