The sirens blared at 6:00 AM sharp. Not for danger. Just for class.
I sat up in my bunk, blinking away the last flickers of a static-filled dream. It was the same one again—garbled voices, words I couldn't hang on to, and this weird pressure behind my eyes like something was trying to push through. As always, I woke up before anything made sense.
The lights buzzed on overhead. Harsh white. No windows. Just the constant hum of the dorms. At the Academy of Silence, comfort didn't exist. Only rules.
I slid down from the top bunk. Kane, my roommate, was already up, tightening the strap on his vest. His system band pulsed silver.
"You glitched again last night," he said, not looking at me.
"What?" I was still half-asleep.
"Vitals dipped. Scanner flagged you for two minutes. You stopped breathing."
I shrugged. "Probably a false read. I'm fine."
He just grunted. Kane never pushed things too far. Not unless he had to.
I opened my locker and found someone else's boots inside again. Size too small, a bronze rank tag still stitched on the tongue—proof even the lowest tier outranked me. No note. No apology. Just a reminder that I didn't matter. I pulled my uniform from the bottom of the shared dryer bin—still damp, wrinkled. I got dressed, ignoring the flickering light over the mirror. When I glanced up, my reflection lagged by half a second. The delay made my stomach twist, as though the glass had to drag my face through glue just to catch up.
I joined the wave of cadets flooding the hall. Everyone wore the same uniform, only our collar bands were different—bronze, silver, gold. I had none.
We passed under the scanner arches, one by one. Names and ranks floated over everyone's heads.
KELLEN VOS — PLATINUM (A) — PRISM WIELDER
LENYA CHO — SILVER (C) — PULSE-ENGINEER
VAEL DRAYCE — … SCAN FAILED …
The scanner buzzed, flashed red, and then glitched out. I kept walking. No one stopped me. They never did. Some students laughed. A few looked away. One instructor frowned at his pad, but didn't say a word.
You'd think someone would ask questions. But in this place, people like me weren't seen. We were glitches—errors in the system.
I made it to class just as the bell rang. Overseer Solas stood at the front, cold as always. His uniform sharp. His back straighter than the metal wall behind him.
"You are not here to learn," he said. No welcome. No introduction. "You are here to be measured."
The room went still. Even the buzzing lights seemed quieter.
"You are variables," he continued. "The system decides what you're worth. And it never forgets."
Behind him, a floating pyramid of glowing ranks rotated slowly. From Initiate to Alpha. Nothing below Initiate. And yet, here I was.
RANK UP OR VANISH
Apply now. Failure means reassignment.
I sat in the back corner. Three empty chairs between me and everyone else. The air felt colder there. Like the system didn't want me close to anyone.
When class ended, Overseer Solas scanned the room with his sharp eyes. They landed on me. Just for a second—long enough for me to wonder if he recognized the gap where my record should be. But it felt like he was calculating something. Not confused. Not curious. Just... measuring.
Then he looked away.
The cafeteria buzzed with noise. Students gathered in rank-based cliques, talking about combat modules, training scores, and loadouts. I grabbed my tray and walked to the farthest table—near a broken wall unit that crackled and sparked. No one else sat there. They didn't like the noise.
I didn't mind. I sat alone. Like always.
Then came the voice.
"Void-born. The academy rumor said cadets branded Void-born came from beyond the Veil—a cursed placeholder better left unranked."
A whisper, sharp and meant to sting. I turned. No one looked at me. That was how it worked—accusations without names.
Void-born. It wasn't just an insult. It was a warning.
Across the room, Lenya Cho sat with a few other silver-ranks. She wasn't laughing or chatting. She was watching me. Again.
I looked away. My tray stayed untouched. The food gave off faint steam, but I wasn't hungry. I barely felt like I was there at all.
That night, the voice returned.
"Still alive? That's… unexpected."
I sat up in bed, heart pounding. My HUD flickered to life.
UNLISTED SYSTEM DETECTED — VERSION 4.7
BOOTING… ERROR
"You're not supposed to be here," the voice said. "But I guess we're doing this now."
"Who are you?" I whispered.
"Let's skip introductions. For now, think of me as the thing that noticed what everyone else ignored."
"What do you want?"
"You. Awake. Aware. Anchored."
The voice cut out. My HUD reset.
And in the silence of my room, one thing became clear—
I wasn't supposed to exist.