The chronometer's shrill chirp sliced through the paper-thin walls of the Eldrin apartmenThe weight of an F-RANKt, a relic of a world that no longer existed. Henry Gray jolted awake, his heart pounding as if the sound were a warning of imminent collapse. He groaned, dragging his aching body upright on the creaking cot. Rubbing exhaustion from his eyes, he stared at the ceiling, where a hairline crack snaked like a promise of ruin. The cold floor bit his bare feet as he swung his legs over the edge, each step a reminder of the life he couldn't escape.
In the dim corner, his 14-year-old brother, Tom, lay curled on a pile of tattered blankets, his face peaceful in sleep. Henry's gaze softened. Let him rest. Across the apartment, behind a flimsy wall, his 16-year-old sister, Lily, was still asleep in her closet-sized room. Their mother's door remained shut, the faint glow of a holoscreen flickering beneath it. She was lost in her own world, as always.
Henry sighed, the weight of responsibility settling into his bones. He moved silently through the apartment, avoiding the floorboards that would scream under his weight. The kitchen alcove reeked of mold and desperation. He opened the near-empty cupboards, his stomach growling. A stale loaf of bread and a jar of something that might've been jam in a past life stared back. He twisted the lid, sniffing cautiously. Still edible. Probably.
"Morning, Henry," Lily mumbled, shuffling in, her school uniform wrinkled from being slept in. She tied her dark hair into a loose ponytail, her eyes half-open. "Anything good?"
"A feast for royalty," Henry said, slicing the hardened bread and smearing the questionable jam on top. "Or at least a princess in exile."
Lily squinted at the slice. "Looks like you scraped it off the street."
"It's got… nutrients." Henry took a bite, wincing. The jam tasted like expired berries and regret.
Tom stumbled in, a mess of bedhead and teenage energy. "Food! I'm starving!" His excitement faded at the sight of the bread. "Again?"
"Be grateful," Henry said, tossing him a slice. "Some don't even have this."
Tom groaned but ate, his complaints muffled.
Their mother emerged, her once-vibrant face hollow, her gaze distant. She mumbled a greeting, barely glancing at them, and poured murky liquid from a dented kettle. She didn't ask if they'd eaten. She never did.
Henry's grip tightened on his bread, frustration gnawing at him. He wanted to shout, to demand she care. But what was the point? He shoved the last bite into his mouth and grabbed his threadbare jacket.
"I'll be back late," he told them. "Stay out of trouble."
"Define trouble," Tom said, smirking through a mouthful.
Lily smacked his arm. "He means don't be an idiot."
Henry stepped into the chaos of Delivered. Towering structures loomed, their cracked facades scarred from the Discharge Event that had shattered the world. Hover-vehicles zipped above, neon signs flickered with half-dead ads, and vendors shouted over the city's endless hum. The ranking system ruled everything. F-rankers like Henry, stuck at F1, were ghosts—irrelevant, powerless, scraping by on nothing.
He passed glowing terminals where people checked their stats, ranks pulsing above their wrists. C-rankers, Awakened with real abilities, strutted past, their insignias glowing. Henry clenched his fists. He had no Awakening, no power. Just a family to feed.
His first job was a delivery run. He slung a satchel of packages over his shoulder and weaved through crowded streets, dodging pedestrians and drones. The pay was meager, but it might buy a real meal for Lily and Tom. He darted past a group of C-rankers in sleek jackets, their laughter grating. They'd been nobodies once, until their Awakening. Now they owned the streets.
Focus, Henry. Envy wouldn't fill empty stomachs.
The morning blurred into a grind of tasks. He delivered packages, scrubbed floors in a decaying warehouse, and hauled crates for a vendor who paid half what he promised. Each credit added to his account felt like a drop in an endless bucket. His muscles ached, his mind numbed, but he pushed on.
By afternoon, he landed a riskier job: delivering a sealed package to the Edge District, a lawless zone where F-rankers rarely returned unscathed. The client, a shifty man with a scarred face, offered triple the usual pay. Henry hesitated. Lily's tired eyes and Tom's hollow cheeks flashed in his mind. He took the job.
The Edge District was a maze of crumbling buildings and flickering lights. Gangs of low-rankers prowled, their eyes predatory. Henry kept his head down, the package heavy in his satchel. Halfway through, a group of teens blocked his path, their knives glinting.
"Hand it over, F1," the leader sneered, his D-rank insignia glowing faintly.
Henry's heart raced. He wasn't a fighter, but he couldn't lose the package. "Back off," he said, voice steady despite the fear.
The leader lunged. Henry dodged, adrenaline surging. He swung his satchel, catching the teen's jaw. The others hesitated, surprised by his defiance. Henry bolted, sprinting through alleys as shouts echoed behind him. He didn't stop until he reached the drop-off, his chest heaving as he handed the package to a hooded figure who didn't speak.
The credits hit his account. Enough for a week's food. He exhaled, relief warring with exhaustion.
The sky darkened as he headed home, the city's lights blurring. His mind drifted to Lily and Tom, to the life he wanted for them. He was too tired to notice the high-pitched whine at first.
Then—a blaring horn.
Henry's head snapped up. A massive hover-truck barreled toward him, its lights blinding. Time slowed. His body froze, muscles locked. The world smeared into streaks of neon.
A strange pulse flickered in his chest, a sensation he'd never felt. His vision wavered, symbols dancing at the edges.
IMPACT.
Pain exploded as metal crushed his body. Air fled his lungs. He was weightless, flung through the air like debris. Darkness swallowed him.
Then—a whisper.
Integration commencing…
…Analyzing host viability…
…Compatibility: 97%…
White-hot energy surged through him. His mind burned, fracturing into a kaleidoscope of code and symbols. Something inside him broke free—a flood of data, power, understanding. It was too much. His body couldn't contain it.
A final message seared into his consciousness:
[System Activation: successfully]
The world went black.