Phantom Awakening

Niko Saga: Chapter 1

The streets glistened with a faint metallic sheen as Kujo walked through the district, his footsteps echoing against the empty alley walls. At fourteen, Kujo was tall for his age, with dark eyes that seemed to be filled with an endless void. Emotions had always felt like distant shadows to him—faint outlines of things he was supposed to feel but never did. But his power? His power was anything but faint.

Kujo's ability to control metal was rare and powerful. Even the smallest fragments, flecks embedded in the pavement, and the hidden filaments in buildings seemed to respond to his presence. It was both a gift and a curse. The weight of the metal was always there, humming at the edge of his senses. With practice, he could twist metal to his will, fashioning anything from weapons to shields. But his tool of choice was a Non-Lethal Cut Shotgun—a modified weapon designed to immobilize, not kill.

The invitation had come as a surprise, a rare letter delivered directly to him. In a world where those with abilities were carefully monitored and controlled, getting an invitation to the Academy was unheard of, especially for someone like Kujo. The Academy was reserved for the elite, a place where people trained their abilities to heights most could only imagine. It was where the best of the best went, the future leaders and protectors of society. And now, somehow, he was one of them.

He reached the gates of the Academy, looming tall and covered in complex metalwork—an intricate lace of iron and steel. As he approached, he felt the metal react to him, vibrating slightly under his influence. It was as though the gates themselves were greeting him, recognizing his unique affinity. But his expression remained stoic; if he felt any excitement, it didn't show.

An older student with piercing eyes and a sharp stance was waiting at the entrance. "Kujo, I assume," he said, looking him up and down. "I'm Raiden, and I'll be your guide. Let's hope you can keep up."

Kujo nodded silently, trailing behind Raiden as they walked through the maze-like pathways of the Academy. He glanced around, seeing others with abilities testing their skills. Some were conjuring flames, others manipulating the air, and a few were even summoning illusions that danced and flickered like mirages in the sunlight. He noted their focused expressions, the intensity with which they trained. It was clear this place was unlike anything he'd seen before.

The academy halls were bustling with energy, yet Kujo felt oddly detached from it all. It was as if there was an invisible barrier between him and the others. Their faces showed determination, excitement, and pride. But Kujo couldn't relate. His powers were a tool, not a passion. They were something he used when necessary, a means to an end. What end, he wasn't quite sure yet.

Raiden led him to a training field, a massive, open space surrounded by high walls. "This is where you'll be tested," he said, nodding toward a group of senior instructors standing off to the side, all watching him intently. "They want to see what you can do, to determine if you're really worthy of the Academy."

Kujo took a slow, measured breath and stepped onto the field. The instructors observed him with a scrutinizing gaze, and he could sense their anticipation, their eagerness to judge. He raised his hand and focused on the metal scattered across the field—small, scattered pieces meant to test him.

With a flick of his fingers, the fragments began to levitate, forming a swirling mass around him. His control was precise, each shard obeying his commands without hesitation. The metal coalesced into a shape, shifting and warping under his will. He crafted it into a spiraling coil, then expanded it into a shield before dismantling it again. Finally, he formed the pieces into a streamlined line, aiming straight ahead. With a wave of his hand, they shot forward, embedding themselves in the distant wall.

The instructors exchanged glances, clearly impressed. But Kujo felt nothing—not pride, not satisfaction. This was just something he could do, nothing more.

"Impressive," Raiden commented, though his expression betrayed a hint of unease. "Your control is remarkable for someone your age."

Kujo nodded in response, indifferent. If they wanted to praise him, that was their choice, but he didn't need it. He didn't care about their opinions or approval. All that mattered was his survival, his ability to control the power within him.

"You'll start your training tomorrow," Raiden said, guiding him back toward the main building. "There are levels here, challenges you must complete to advance. Most students struggle, but I doubt you'll have much trouble."

Kujo listened, absorbing the information without comment. He didn't care about levels or challenges. If anything, the Academy felt like a distraction, a place that was more concerned with building heroes and champions than actually honing useful skills. But he knew this place would give him resources, techniques, and perhaps an understanding of his own power he hadn't yet achieved.

That night, Kujo lay in his assigned dorm, staring at the ceiling. The room was silent, but he could feel the presence of metal everywhere—the iron in the walls, the bolts in the floor, the faint traces in the bedframe. He wondered what it would be like to feel things like others did, to feel driven by something other than mere survival. But the thought slipped away as quickly as it had come, like a shadow passing over his mind.

Tomorrow, he would train. He would do what they asked. And maybe, just maybe, he would find a purpose in this place that had accepted him, even if he couldn't find one within himself.