Chaos tore across the world.
Sirens. Explosions.
Buildings folding in on themselves like paper.
In Haru's vision, everything swam.
Sound came first—muffled, like he was underwater. Then color. Then motion.
Something moved in front of him. Too big.
Too close. The monster's jaws snapped shut around a human figure, the wet crunch cutting through the ringing in his ears. Blood sprayed across the pavement in a dark arc.
Haru's breath hitched. He couldn't see her.
The creature lifted its head, throat working as it swallowed. Then its body lowered, muscles coiling—and it charged straight at him.
Haru's feet wouldn't move. The ground shook.
But before the monster could reach him—
Something slammed into its side.
A second creature crashed down from above, claws carving deep into scaled flesh. The first monster shrieked, twisting violently as the two massive bodies collided.
They tore into each other, shrieks ripping through the air.
Haru stumbled back—and finally saw her.
Yue lay on the ground several meters away.
Too still. Too small against the chaos.
His chest seized.
Then— Crack. Space behind her split open.
Not wide. Not clean.
Fractured, like glass under pressure, thin lines of light spiderwebbing outward from a single point. The air bent inward, pulling at her hair, at the loose fabric of her sleeve.
Yue turned. Her eyes found his.
Tears were already falling. Not one. Not two.
They wouldn't stop.
She glanced back—Her body went rigid.
Then she looked at him again.
They both understood. Haru ran.
His shoes slammed against broken pavement, breath tearing out of his chest. His hand reached forward before he even realized he was doing it.
"Yue—!"
She pushed herself up, legs shaking violently. Her fingers stretched toward him, trembling, desperate— The world lurched.
From the fractured portal—
Something lashed out. Not rope. Not light.
A glitching whip of warped space snapped around her reaching arm—then her waist—then her legs. Her body jerked violently.
Haru's eyes widened. "No—!"
She was pulled back.
Fast. Too fast.
"YUE!!!—"
His voice broke raw out of his throat.
He didn't slow down. Didn't think.
Didn't breathe. The distance— Too far.
Too far— Time warped. Everything dragged.
Her hair lifted slowly in the pull of the portal. Her fingers strained toward him, shaking, reaching— "ha… ru…"
The sound barely formed on her lips.
But it hit him like a blade. Haru lunged.
Fingers outstretched— Almost—
The portal snapped shut— Haru's body jerked upright. "—yue!"
Air tore into his lungs in ragged bursts. His chest heaved violently, each breath shallow and uneven, like he'd been running for miles. Sweat clung to his skin, dampening his shirt, sliding cold down the back of his neck.
His hands were shaking. Still reaching.
Still empty. For a moment, his eyes darted wildly around the room, unfocused—like he was still trying to find her in the dark. His heartbeat slammed hard against his ribs, too loud, too fast. His fingers slowly curled into fists against the sheets. The digital clock beside the bed glowed faint red in the darkness.
2:34 AM
Haru dragged a hand down his face, but it did nothing to steady his breathing. His shoulders trembled once—small, sharp.
"…Yue…"
Her name barely left his lips.
And the silence that followed was worse than the nightmare... Eventually decided to sleep after few moments.
—
Six years had passed since yue disappeared.
Haru was twenty-nine now.
His hair had grown long enough to brush his waist, the dark strands loosely tied behind his back. A few pieces had slipped free, framing a face carved thinner by time. The softness he once carried was gone. In its place—fatigue that never quite left his eyes.
The world had changed. Not slowly. Not gently.
Humanity had crossed something called death's door—and on the other side, power answered. It started with survivors. Those who should have died… but didn't. Bodies pushed past their limits. Minds that snapped and came back different. In the chaos of those years, abilities began to surface—strange at first, unstable, often lethal.
Then came control.
Three years ago, the first stable awakenings were recorded. Fire that didn't burn the user. Space that bent without tearing the body apart. Strength that no longer destroyed its own bones. Humanity learned. Then mastered.
And once power could be measured, it could be organized.
The old governments tried to contain threats using military power and weapons built for war, but they failed. Now, the non-awakened administrations operated under the authority of a single global power— The World Association.
An organization built and ruled by the
awakened. By the ones the world had come to call— Aberrants.
It had taken them only three more years after mastering their abilities to reshape global order. Not through loud conquest… but through quiet, undeniable dominance. When disasters struck, Aberrants solved them. When monsters appeared, Aberrants erased them.
Influence turned into authority. Authority turned into law. Now the world ran on rankings.
Measured power. Assigned threat levels.
Documented capability. Strength had a number. And numbers decided everything.
Soon each countries established small organizations under the world association's rule which is the Guilds.
—
Birdsong trembled through the slightly open window. Morning light slanted across the room, dust motes drifting lazily before settling on the vase of flowers—and then on yue's portrait. Haru's eyes flicked to it, just for a heartbeat, before he looked away.
The hiss of water poured into a cup. Haru's black hair fell over his forehead as he set the kettle down. His fingers traced the rim of the mug, stirring the coffee with a slow, deliberate motion, before he sank into the sofa. The TV flickered to life.
"…the portal has been named Void Rift by The World Association. A new protocol is in place: single individuals, groups smaller than six, or those without guilds are strictly prohibited from raiding the Void Rift. Violators will face detention, severity depending on breach."
Haru let out a long breath, steam curling between his lips.
"Good thing… fewer idiots dying to be famous."
He lifted the mug, feeling the heat seep into his hands, and tilted it back slowly.
"…Registration is officially open worldwide. Anomaly Quotient will be held at every TWA branch…"
His eyes sharpened. Something in his chest tightened and released all at once. He moved without hesitation—shower, gear, bag, everything packed and ready. Hair tied back in a loose ponytail, stray strands framing his face. Jacket on. Then, at the threshold, he froze.
The portrait. His gaze lingered, tracing the familiar curve of her smile, the quiet weight of absence pressing against his chest. His jaw clenched, determination hardening in his eyes.
The door's lock clicked.
Haru stepped into the morning light, ready.
—
On the way to AQ-R, the car passed several Void Rifts. Some were heavily guarded, barriers humming faintly in the distance. Others swarmed with teams preparing to raid, equipment clinking, voices tense.
Haru watched them through the window. Quiet. Still.
An hour later, the car rolled to a stop in front of a large three-story building. People crowded the entrance, voices overlapping in a restless buzz.
His fingers tightened around his bag strap before he stepped out.
Inside, the noise shifted.
Some people glanced at him—then looked again. Whispers followed in his wake.
"Isn't that—" "Shh."
Haru kept walking, but his gaze dipped to the floor.
—and then he bumped into someone.
"S-sorry…" The apology slipped out before he fully looked up.
A smirk greeted him.
"Well, look who's here."
Another voice, sharper. "The guy without any Quinacity to measure."
A scoff from the side. "Pathetic. Time-wasting."
Before he could move, the group's leader shoved past him, shoulder clipping his. The surrounding murmurs thickened, spreading like ripples in water. Haru steadied himself.
His grip on the strap tightened once—then loosened.
He kept walking.
The registration room buzzed with quiet tension. Haru sat in line among the others, knees still, fingers resting lightly on his bag.
"Place your hand on the orb to begin scaling," the registrar called. One by one.
A man stepped forward, pressing his palm against the plain orb hovering above the wired pillar. For a moment, nothing— Then the orb flared. A soft calculation tone filled the room before cutting cleanly.
"C-rank. Please demonstrate your ability."
Water spiraled into the air at the man's command.
The woman behind the monitor finished her assessment and handed him his Aberrant ID.
Next. And next. Time stretched. Finally—
"Haru."
He rose and stepped forward. Three people remained behind him.
The woman at the monitor looked up… and her expression softened.
"It's you again…"
Haru gave a small, hesitant smile.
"Four months ago you already took the assessment. I hope you'll get in this time."
Sympathy lingered plainly on her face.
Haru placed his hand on the orb.
He waited. Seconds passed. Then a minute.
The room grew subtly quieter.
The orb remained dull. Lifeless.
Another minute. Nothing. …Clear.
No Quinacity.
Haru's fingers slid off the orb.
He lowered his gaze and stepped forward to retrieve his registration form.
Behind him, the whispers started again—soft, but not soft enough.
"Still nothing…" "Hopeless case."
The woman hesitated, then spoke gently,
"Don't lose hope. Maybe you'll awaken sometime."
She remembered—the rumors of his near-death attempt to search for his beloved inside the Void Rift.
Haru's lips curved, but the smile didn't reach his eyes.
"…Thank you. For encouraging me."
"You'll find her someday," she said quietly as he turned toward the door.
But as she watched his back—
Her brows drew together. whispered in the air.
"…if she's still alive."
She exhaled softly and returned to her work.
Outside the room, heads turned.
Eyes dropped to the paper in Haru's hand.
They understood immediately.
Failure.
The murmurs began again, sharper this time, pressing in from all sides. Haru's gaze stayed fixed on the floor. He heard every word.
Every quiet laugh. Every whisper.
…but he didn't stop.
…and he didn't look back.
He walked out of the building.