10 years had passed since the awakening.
Since that life-changing moment when the chip first activated, my stats had improved… but not by much. I wasn't some prodigy or chosen one. If anything, my growth was slow, painfully average—except for the mysterious Dexterity stat that still refused to reveal itself fully.
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{STATS}
• Strength: 3
• Perception: 3
• Endurance: 2
• Charisma: 1
• Intelligence: 3
• Agility: 2
• Luck: 1
• Dexterity: ???
• Innate Talent: The Dexterity Demon
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Still low… still nothing to brag about.
It's pretty low...
I'm now 14 years old, and after staring at my stats for the hundredth time, something still doesn't sit right with me.
Intelligence: 3.
Really?
I mean, sure—I've got a kid's body. But inside? I've lived an entire adult life. I've done shift rotations, balanced KPIs, dealt with supervisors who drank power like it was soda, and navigated office politics like a champ. You don't survive corporate without some level of mental fortitude. And yet... 3?
Then it hit me. Maybe the stat system doesn't measure knowledge. Maybe it measures the brain's raw capability—how fast it processes, how well it adapts, how much it can handle.
In other words, it's not about what I know, it's about what this brain can do with it.
And this brain? Fourteen years old. Hormonal. Still under construction.
My adult memories are here—filed away neatly like backup drives—but my current hardware can't always run them at full speed. It's like I've got a high-level operating system trying to boot up on an outdated device. There's lag. Instincts I remember having don't always kick in fast enough. And maybe that's what the system sees.
So yeah. Intelligence: 3.
And maybe that's fair—for now.
–––––––
Now, at fourteen, I've come to understand the truth behind this world—and the veil that once obscured it. Earth, or what remains of it, is now a nexus point. Reality has fractured. Universes bleed into each other. Portals open without warning. Mythical beasts, cosmic horrors, and digital wraiths coexist—some in peace, most in chaos. The ordinary is long gone, and we are all part of something far greater… and far more dangerous.
MetaHumans like me, those awakened by the chip, are expected to help hold this unraveling tapestry together.
And that's why every kid like me is required to attend the MetaHuman Academy—the last bastion of balance in a universe threatening to collapse under its own paradoxes.
The Departure
The day I left for the Academy was surreal. Bittersweet.
I stood on the elevated hovertrain platform, my parents behind me. Mist curled around the edges of the station like the breath of some ancient god. Neon sigils blinked overhead, casting glows in every hue across the steel and glass. Holograms floated lazily through the air—projected advertisements for swordsmanship clubs, AI-enhanced combat gear, and "dimension-safe" dorm meal plans.
"You'll do great, Felix," Dad said, clapping a hand on my shoulder. He wore his usual mechanic's uniform, stained with glowing oil. "Just like always."
"Call every now and then, okay?" Mom added, her voice tight. Her eyes shimmered—not just from tears, but the faint glow of her cybernetic implants. "We loaded credits onto your Lace. And Felix… be careful. There's more out there than monsters."
I nodded, trying not to let the moment swallow me. The train pulled in, a sleek, humming serpent of chrome and plasma-light, its engines purring like a living thing.
I couldn't escape the irony. The last time I saw a train, I died.
I clenched my fists as I stepped aboard.
The Arrival
The trip was faster than I expected, the rail twisting between broken realities like it was slicing through dreams. Every window flickered with otherworldly landscapes—crystal forests, shattered moons, floating cities.
But nothing prepared me for the sight of the Academy.
It was nestled in the heart of a rift-city called Arx Caelum, suspended high above the ruined Earth on a gravity core. A monstrous, beautiful blend of the arcane and the hyper-modern, it looked like a cathedral forged from obsidian glass and pulsating neon veins. Gigantic spires spiraled endlessly into the clouds, while bioluminescent vines and fiberoptic roots climbed the stone-like circuitry of its walls.
Floating walkways coiled between platforms. Students drifted in via teleport glyphs, robotic mounts, and voidport shuttles.
This wasn't a school.
It was a temple of power.
Orientation
An attendant met me at the platform—a silver-skinned android with a flickering halo-like interface above its head.
"Welcome to MetaHuman Academy, Felix Drenched," it said in a voice like chiming glass. "Please scan your Lace."
I touched the pendant around my neck—an obsidian triangle etched with runes. As my fingers grazed it, the device pulsed and projected a floating, translucent card bearing my ID, stats, and enrollment rank.
"Confirmed. You are cleared for Class 1-N. Please proceed through Gate Sigma. Orientation will begin shortly."
I passed through a shimmering barrier of runes and code, my breath catching as I entered the central courtyard.
It was alive.
Not metaphorically—literally. The trees had chrome bark and leaves like stained glass. The ground pulsed faintly with power, and the sky above shimmered like a data screen.
Floating orbs zipped by, carrying books and weapons. Statues of legendary MetaHumans stood like sentinels, some half-human, half-machine, others looking like gods sculpted from stardust.
It was beautiful and overwhelming.
And then I bumped into someone.
The Encounter
"Gah!" a voice exclaimed, and I stumbled back.
I looked up—and froze.
Sharp features. Confident stance. A teasing smirk that pulled at a memory buried deep in my brain.
No. It couldn't be.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," he said.
I opened my mouth, but my voice failed me. There was something about him. Something eerily familiar—like the face of someone I once knew in another life.
"I… I think we've met before," I stammered.
He raised an eyebrow, then burst out laughing. "Well, that's a first. You sure you didn't dream about me?"
I blinked. That grin. That smug energy.
My god. It was him. Jerry. From the old office. From my previous life. He didn't look older—but why would he? Maybe this was coincidence. Or maybe fate really did enjoy messing with me.
"Jerry," I murmured.
He extended a hand. "Yeah, that's me. First day here. Welcome to MetaHuman Academy. It's insane, right? Still wrapping my head around it."
I shook his hand slowly, still dazed.
"You're not messing with me? This really your first day?"
He grinned. "Thought I'd pretend to be your upperclassman. Get a rise outta you."
"You jerk," I said, half-laughing. "Some things never change."
We both stood in silence for a beat, the chaos of the Academy flowing around us like a dream.
"So, what class are you in?" he asked.
"1-N."
His eyebrows lifted. "Same. Guess we're stuck together."
I nodded, unsure whether to feel comforted or unsettled. A piece of my old life had followed me here. In this strange new place, maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.
The Path Ahead
Our dormitory tower was a spiraling monolith wrapped in energy shields, suspended by anti-grav coils and enchanted chains. Each floor rotated slowly, like planets orbiting a core. Inside, the corridors shimmered with hexagonal light, doors sliding open via thought command.
As I stepped into my room, I felt the weight of what was ahead.
Classes would start tomorrow. Combat trials. Dungeon dives. Ethical theory on interdimensional law. Clubs ranging from "Arcane Robotics" to "Myth-Taming." Somewhere in that chaos, I had to find my place.
But I had one thing no one else did.
Beneath my lackluster stats, beneath the quiet stares of instructors and the indifferent scan of AI monitors...
There was Dexterity: ???
And The Dexterity Demon still slept inside me.
But not for long.