Pain. It came before the breath, before the thoughts, before the understanding that he was still—somehow—alive. Calder Draco's first sensation was fire in his veins, not burning on the skin, but beneath it, like something old and monstrous had lit a torch inside his bone marrow. He couldn't scream, couldn't even twitch. His body convulsed in silence, the bathroom floor sticky beneath him, blood pooled like ink on broken porcelain.
Then came the voice.
> [THREAD TYPE: HYBRID – DRACONIC / DEMONIC / VAMPIRIC / DIVINE]
[STATUS: VEIL-REJECTED – ACCESS GRANTED]
[SYSTEM CALIBRATING…]
His eyes fluttered open. The world shimmered, a kaleidoscope of colors and symbols dancing before him. A screen floated above him, glowing like starlight caught in fractured glass. It wasn't part of the government scans; it felt ancient, wrong, and yet—it pulsed in rhythm with his heart.
> [NIGHTBORN SOVEREIGN SYSTEM ACTIVATED]
[TIER 1 UNLOCKED – NIGHTBORN INHERITOR]
[NEW TRAITS: Blood Sigil | Predator's Archive | Breath of Dominion]
"What... is this?" he croaked, surprised he could speak at all. His voice was raw, as if he hadn't used it in years.
His limbs twitched, and pain flared, then began to dull, replaced by an eerie sensation of shifting. His muscles cramped, then expanded. Bone cracked, then reknit. His skin flushed, and the glow under it faded to a faint, pulsing hum. The System had become him, and he—he wasn't the same.
Staggering, Calder pulled himself to the mirror. The cheap plastic was cracked, warped by humidity and time, but it still reflected something he barely recognized. His eyes, once dull gray, now burned a deep crimson with flickers of gold at the edges. His frame—previously gangly—had begun to broaden, muscles tightening under the skin like coils of wire. His skin looked healthier, subtly pale but unnaturally smooth. The curve of his jaw was more defined, and his lips, fuller and more sensual, curved into a snarl as he examined his new self.
He wasn't handsome yet, but he was no longer ugly. And that was terrifying.
> [Restructuring Incomplete. 3% Bloodline Assimilation. Next Milestone: 10%. Appearance and Attribute Boosts Will Progress with Rank.]
A groan escaped his lips. "This... isn't normal."
No system gave you traits outside your Class. No Thread allowed you to access four lineages at once. He remembered the stories—of Legendary Awakened with Class S Echoes, of Veil Knights and Rogue Sovereigns. But this... This wasn't a Class. This was a crown. And Calder Draco had just put it on.
---
The next hour was spent trying not to scream. His body surged with energy in cycles—like waves crashing through a broken dam. He dry-heaved bile into the toilet, the taste of copper and acid burning his throat. His senses flared randomly—one moment deaf to the world, the next hearing the electricity hum inside the wall, the drip of water from a leaky faucet, the distant screams of those tormented by the beasts that roamed the night.
But when it passed, he could stand, walk, think. The world was sharper, more vivid, and he felt alive in a way he never had before. Every breath was a luxury, every heartbeat a victory.
> [Sovereign Class Active – Thread Integration Stable]
[Your Existence No Longer Matches Global Awakening Protocols]
[Warning: Detection by State Agents May Result in Termination]
"Great," he muttered, running a hand through his now-darker hair. "I'm a walking death warrant."
But another part of him—the one that had lived in darkness, eaten lies, and swallowed the world's indifference—smiled. The System hadn't just awakened him. It had chosen him. He was special, unique, and powerful beyond measure. And he was going to use that power to change his world.
---
He dressed slowly, noting how his shirt fit tighter across the shoulders and chest, the fabric straining against the new muscles beneath. The mirror whispered transformation, reflecting a man he barely recognized—a man with power and purpose. His movements felt smoother, more balanced, like a predator stalking its prey. Every step was deliberate, every action calculated. He was no longer the scrawny, overlooked outcast. He was a Sovereign, and the world would bow to his will.
He checked his phone, the screen lighting up his face with an eerie glow. Zero messages. Zero alerts. No one had noticed he'd been dead. No one cared. The realization stung, but it also fueled his determination. He was alone, but he was alive, and that was enough.
Outside, the city choked on its own light. Neon ads for Awakener battle tournaments glowed against graffiti-covered transit cars, casting an otherworldly glow on the streets below. Drones buzzed past his window, scanning IDs, ignoring anyone without the glow of Veillight. And down in the streets, gangs fought over rift-blood trade and sponsorship money like modern warlords, their battles spilling onto the roads in a symphony of violence and chaos.
Calder Draco walked into the chaos with a Sovereign's heart beating in his chest. His steps were confident, his gaze steady, and his mind clear. For the first time in years, he wasn't afraid. He was awake, alive, and chosen. And he was going to burn this world down and build something better from its ashes.
As he moved through the crowded streets, he could feel the eyes of the people on him, their gazes a mix of curiosity and fear. He stood out, a beacon of power in a world of the forgotten. And he reveled in it, letting the attention fuel his newfound confidence.
He passed by a group of Awakened teens, their bodies glowing with the power of their Threads, their faces smeared with war paint as they postured and preened for the holographic cameras. They sneered at him, their voices a mix of mockery and disbelief.
"Look at this one," one of them said, his voice laced with scorn. "Thinks he's something special, doesn't he?"
Calder simply smiled, a slow, predatory curl of his lips that sent a shiver down their spines. "I am something special," he said, his voice a low growl that resonated with power. "And you'll all bow to me soon enough."
With that, he continued on his path, leaving them to stare after him in stunned silence. He knew that his words would spread, that his name would be whispered in the shadows, and that his rise to power would be met with both fear and awe. And he welcomed it, embracing his destiny as a Sovereign and a Nightborn, a ruler in a world of chaos and darkness.
As he walked, he couldn't help but feel a sense of exhilaration, a rush of adrenaline that made his heart race and his blood sing. He was alive, truly alive, and he was going to make the most of every moment, every experience, every sensation. And he was going to make sure that everyone knew his name, that everyone feared and respected him, that everyone bowed to his will.
For Calder Draco was no longer just a name, a glitch in the system, a forgotten outcast. He was a Sovereign, a Nightborn, a ruler, and a god among men. And he was going to make sure that the world never forgot it.