Motion seized me as I was suddenly yanked downward. A sickening lurch twisted my stomach, and my vision blurred before snapping back into focus. I was on the ground floor.
Strange.
I didn't remember moving. But then again, my mind was in a bad place. My thoughts were tangled, restless—like I was suffocating in a room with no doors.
So I walked.
The streets stretched endlessly before me, shrouded in a dull, gray haze. Towering buildings loomed overhead, their skeletal frames blotting out what little light the sun could offer. The world itself felt caged, trapped in an artificial twilight.
I thought about Sol and Heather.
I never knew my real parents, but Heather had found us at birth. She was a teacher at an institute for orphaned children, raising us as her own. She gave us warmth, guidance—a reason to keep going.
Could I really abandon them?
No.
The thought settled like stone in my chest. I could only adapt. I would talk to Sol when I got home.
I entered the high-rise and rode the elevator to the 115th floor. The hum of machinery filled the silence, each passing second stretching my unease.
Then, as I approached our apartment—Unit B—a sudden thud echoed from inside. Like a brick hitting the floor.
A strange chill prickled my spine.
Panic surged through me.
I fumbled with the key, jammed it into the lock, and shoved the door open.
"Sol!" I called out, my voice sharper than I intended.
No reply.
Then I saw her.
Slumped on the floor, motionless. Her dark hair fanned around her face, her chest rising and falling in slow, uneven breaths. It almost looked… peaceful.
"I'm just… tired," she muttered weakly, but the way my heart pounded told me otherwise.
Something was wrong.
I dropped to my knees and hoisted her onto my back, staggering slightly under her weight. Then I stumbled back onto the streets, scanning for a taxi with frantic eyes.
One finally came into view. Without hesitation, I threw open the door.
"Take us to the nearest hospital. Now!" I barked.
The driver hesitated. His eyes flicked between me and Sol, his brow furrowed in either confusion or reluctance.
Was he seriously hesitating?
Anger flared inside me.
"What the hell are you waiting for?! GO!" I slammed my hand against the seat, a sharp pain jolting up my arm.
So weak. So frail.
The driver's hesitation vanished. Tires screeched against the pavement as we sped toward the hospital.
Fifteen minutes later, we arrived at the Free Hospital—our only option, given that we had no medical insurance.
I burst through the entrance, my mind fixed on one thing—finding a doctor.
But before I could take another step—
"Stop."
A towering enforcer, built like a walking slab of concrete, blocked my path. His cold, impassive gaze pinned me in place.
"Take your seat in the waiting room," he said, his tone carrying an unspoken threat.
"But—she's dying! Help her!" My voice cracked, raw with panic.
I didn't know if she was actually dying. But she needed help! And now.
The enforcer barely spared me a glance. He simply nodded toward the waiting room.
"So are they," he said.
I turned, my stomach twisting at the sight before me.
The waiting room was packed—rows of hunched figures, faces hollowed by exhaustion, bodies slumped against the peeling walls. Some were bleeding. Some were coughing violently into rags. The very air felt thick—oppressive, stifling, drowning in the scent of antiseptic and despair. I couldn't help but notice some of the patients dozing off, their faces empty and vacant.
I swallowed my frustration and carried Sol to an empty chair, gritting my teeth as I eased her down. Every step felt heavier than the last.
As I sat, my mind seethed. Such disregard for human life. Was it natural to the enforcers? Each one seemed to have it out for people, which always confused me—don't they also live here?
My mind raced.
This can't be a coincidence.
I clenched my fists.
The same day I meet that woman, my sister falls ill? I'm not that stupid.
Damn it, Mani—when I see you again, I'll get to the bottom of this!
Then—
A sudden whoosh cut through the air, like someone had just sprinted through the ward at impossible speed.
Then, a voice—one I almost couldn't believe I was hearing.
"The doctor will see you now! Or… wait, is that what they say? Whatever. Long time no see, lecher."
I turned sharply.
And there she was. Mani.
"You!" I growled. "Tell me what the hell is going on! And long time no see?! Your handprint is still on my cheek!"
Mani simply chuckled, but her usual smugness flickered—just for a moment. Then, her blue eyes flicked toward Sol.
"As expected," she muttered.
Before I could react—
She vanished.
Not this again—
The gut-wrenching sensation of being yanked through space hit me like a freight train.
When my vision cleared, I was back in our apartment. Sol lay on the couch, still asleep—completely unchanged.
My breath was ragged as I turned to Mani, disbelief tightening my throat.
"So you are doing this on purpose," I accused.
She sat across from me, her usual teasing demeanor absent. Now, she looked serious.
"Brat," she said bluntly, "you and your sister must become Awakened."
She gestured toward Sol.
"This is called the Immortal Slumber. When someone has a high aptitude for Primordial Energy, their body adapts to it—constantly destroying and recreating itself at a cellular level. But mortals… they can't contain that energy. It seeps from their skin, wasting away."
I turned to Sol, scanning her carefully.
"Mani, what is an Awakened?"
Mani looked at me with disbelief. "Are you stu— never mind. I suppose you'd call it 'enhanced.'"
"I see," I muttered, turning my head toward my sister.
She looked… fine. Just asleep. Peaceful. Alive. But her stillness felt like a warning, the calm before something far worse.
"She looks normal to me," I muttered.
Mani smacked me upside the head.
"That's because you're a mortal, you fool!"
I scowled, rubbing my head. "If this Immortal Slumber is real, why haven't I heard about it? Why wouldn't the government tell us?"
Mani hesitated. Then, she sighed.
"The Immortal Slumber makes one immortal—constantly releasing high-quality energy. In my homeland, where the energy is abundant, this is common and easily treated. One simply needs to forcefully Awaken."
"But here?" She gave me a pointed look.
"In a place with low-quality Primordial essence and a high population constantly struggling for power…
"A being that passively emits higher-quality energy—"
Realization hit me like a punch to the gut.
I turned to my sister in horror.
"…Like a battery," I whispered.
Mani's silence was all the confirmation I needed.
"Does… the government know about this?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
She nodded solemnly.
"You're lying," I spat, disbelief tightening my chest. "Am I really stupid enough to believe the shadiest person I've ever met? If the government was actually using people as batteries, we would know."
Mani gave me a pitying look.
She gestured toward the two chairs where Sol and I usually sat for dinner—where things were simpler, before everything changed.
"Do you think they would let you know something this big? Let me ask you this, Arian. You have a population of four billion and the lowest quality of essence possible. Where do you think the power for Awakened schools, the other districts… everything… comes from?
"You understand little about our world.
"Sit." Her voice was unusually serious. "You are only seeing half the picture—hell, not even that."