I Alone Devour To Level Up

The air in the training yard grew colder as the sun dipped lower. Benson shivered, but not from the chill. It was the Overseer's presence that froze him to the bone.

Her sharp eyes swept over them like a predator sizing up its prey. Every step she took seemed to make the air heavier, pressing down on their shoulders.

"You've survived the first culling," she said, her voice soft yet cutting through the silence like a blade. "But survival is meaningless without strength. The Wayward system has chosen some of you already. For others, it sleeps within you, waiting to be awakened."

The tension in the air was palpable, crackling like static before a storm. Benson could feel the fear radiating from the crowd around him. No one spoke. No one dared to.

"The dormant system will reveal itself," the Overseer continued, a sinister smile tugging at her lips. "For those it doesn't…"

She raised her hand, and with a flick of her wrist, a blade of air hissed through the yard. It sliced cleanly through a nearby wooden post, splitting it in two with a deafening crack.

The silence shattered into gasps and stifled cries.

Benson's stomach twisted. It wasn't just the display of power—it was the casual way she did it, as if she were brushing away an insect.

"You'll meet the same fate," she said coldly, "if you're found unworthy."

A man in black armor stepped forward, holding a glowing tablet in his hands. It pulsed faintly, casting an eerie light across the faces of the recruits.

"When your name is called," the Overseer said, "you will step forward and place your hand on the device. If your system awakens, you live. If not…" She let the words hang, her cruel smile widening.

Benson's throat felt dry. This wasn't a test—it was a death sentence for some of them.

The first name was called.

A tall woman with a shaved head stepped forward, her face pale but composed. She placed her hand on the tablet, and for a moment, nothing happened.

Then, a burst of light erupted from the screen. The crowd gasped as the light twisted into a flaming spear in her hand.

The Overseer nodded approvingly. "Fire manipulation. Useful. Next."

The woman stumbled back into the crowd, clutching the spear like it was her lifeline.

One by one, recruits stepped forward. Some activated their systems, revealing abilities like summoning weapons, manipulating elements, or enhancing their physical strength. Each display left the crowd more awestruck—and more terrified.

But not everyone was so lucky.

A young man with trembling hands stepped forward. He placed his hand on the tablet, but it remained dim.

"No…" he whispered, his voice cracking.

The Overseer didn't hesitate.

She raised her hand, her fingers curling like she was gripping something invisible. For a moment, the air around her seemed to ripple, as if bending to her will. Then, with a flick of her wrist, a blade of shimmering air materialized out of nowhere.

It wasn't a solid weapon—it was made entirely of compressed wind, sharp and jagged, almost translucent, with faint edges that blurred and shimmered. The blade sliced through the air, humming with an eerie, high-pitched whine.

The young man didn't even have time to scream.

One second, he was standing there, trembling, his mouth open in protest. The next, the wind blade struck him squarely in the neck. 

A spray of crimson arced through the air as his head toppled to the ground with a dull thud, rolling once before coming to a stop.

Gasps erupted from the recruits, some stumbling backward, their eyes wide with horror. The blade dissipated as quickly as it had formed, vanishing into the air as though it had never existed.

The Overseer stood there, unbothered, her gaze cold and piercing. "Useless," she muttered, gesturing to the guards to drag the body away. "Next."

Benson's heart raced as the names continued.

Every time someone was called, he held his breath, his mind spinning. What if his system didn't respond? What if he ended up like the young man in the dirt?

He glanced at Malik, who stood a few feet away. The older man's expression was unreadable, but his fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white.

"They're weeding us out," Benson whispered.

Malik didn't respond, his eyes fixed on the Overseer.

Another name was called. Another display of power. Another execution.

The Overseer's wind blades were merciless, cutting down anyone without a system. Each death was quick, efficient, and horrifying.

The Overseer's gaze swept over the recruits, her eyes cold and calculating. The silence that fell over the yard was thick, like the air itself was holding its breath.

"Next," she said, her voice low, commanding.

A small figure stepped forward—tiny, no older than ten or eleven. She had wide, innocent eyes, but there was a strange stillness about her, a kind of maturity that didn't belong in a child.

Benson's heart skipped. He hadn't noticed her before, too focused on the others. 

She placed her hand on the tablet.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then—light.

The first spark was faint, like a glimmer, but it was enough to make everyone gasp. The glow intensified, shooting out in gold.

It wasn't just light—it was raw, radiant energy, pulsing around her like a force of nature. The air vibrated with power, and the ground beneath their feet seemed to hum in response.

Benson's mouth went dry.

She wasn't just using her power. She was controlling it.

And as the light shifted and swirled in mid-air, it wasn't just a display—it was telekinesis. The girl's ability wasn't just a random power. 

She had control, and the energy around her seemed to obey her every thought.

 The colors shifted, changing, pulsing from a soft blue to gold. Benson felt a knot form in his stomach..

The Overseer gave a slow nod, almost approving. "Class A. Telekinesis. Rare."

The girl smiled, a small, shy smile, as the glowing light slowly faded.

Benson stood frozen. Class A? That was almost unheard of. He had only ever heard rumors about powers of that rank. Most recruits were lucky if they got a C or D rank. But this little girl? She had an ability that most could only dream of.

Benson swallowed hard. So it's possible. People really can be that strong.

The Overseer's cold gaze swept over the crowd, her voice growing sharper. "Not all of you are so fortunate," she said, her tone carrying an unsettling edge. "Class D, C, B… they're common. But A? A is special." She paused for a moment, letting the heaviness of her words settle in before continuing.

"For those of you who don't understand, let me explain." She raised her hand, the air around her growing even colder. 

"Each of you will be judged based on the color of your ability, and that will determine your class. D is the weakest, which is what everyone one of you until now has demonstrated. F, the lowest, is a dull gray—something that's barely even considered an ability. C is green, like the start of growth, but still far from impressive. B is blue, solid, dependable, but nothing that will make you stand out."

The Overseer's gaze hardened, her eyes sweeping over them all. "A is different. A is gold. Brilliant. Glowing. And when you see gold, you'll know you're witnessing something rare. Something that might actually be able to survive this world."

She let out a soft chuckle, the sound eerie in the silence. "And then there's S… S-Class is what legends are made of. A pure white. A blinding light. If you see white, you're witnessing power beyond what any of you could comprehend. But S is almost unheard of. And trust me, none of you here today will be lucky enough to see it."

The air around them seemed to freeze as her words sunk in. Benson's chest tightened. White. He couldn't even imagine it. A power so strong it was beyond comprehension.

"Now," the Overseer said, her voice cutting through the tension. "Next."

Her eyes glinted with something dark, like she was savoring the thought. "S-Class is something none of you will ever reach."

Benson wasn't sure if he believed her. He didn't even know what S-Class meant, but if that little girl's telekinesis was any indicator, he wasn't exactly hopeful about his own chances.

"Next," the Overseer barked, her gaze sweeping the crowd.

The girl stepped back, her small figure disappearing into the sea of recruits. And then, Malik's name was called.

"Malik Graves."