A Show Without the Spotlight

The morning after the first wave felt surreal, like the world was holding its breath. Inside the shelter, a makeshift haven carved out from the remnants of what used to be a community center, the air buzzed with subdued murmurs. The dim light filtering through cracks in the walls painted everything in muted tones. People sat in huddled groups, their whispers occasionally broken by the crackle of a small fire near the center. Despite surviving, the weight of what they'd endured hung heavily in the air.

Avi leaned against the cold stone wall, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his face as he tried to lighten the mood. "So, this is the part where we talk about how the system is ruining our lives but also giving us superpowers?" he quipped, his tone laced with mock enthusiasm.

Emily, seated on a battered chair nearby, gave him a look, though her lips curved into a faint smile. "It's not that bad," she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Look, I even got this new passive skill—'Mana Proficiency.'"

Ken, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a sturdy wooden shield propped beside him, perked up. "Mana Proficiency?" he echoed. "Sounds fancy. What does it do?"

Emily straightened slightly, clearly both excited and a little nervous. "It's hard to explain, but when I see someone cast a spell, I can kind of understand the mechanics behind it. Not instantly, and not perfectly, but if I practice, I might be able to replicate the spell—even if I don't have it unlocked."

Sophia, who was leaning against the edge of a makeshift table, raised an eyebrow. "So, you're saying you can learn magic you don't technically have access to?"

Emily nodded. "In theory, yes. It's like tracing a picture over and over until you can draw it from memory. But it takes time."

Ken grinned, his expression lighting up with pride. "That's incredible! Emily's becoming our resident magic prodigy."

Emily blushed at the praise, but the glimmer in her eyes showed genuine excitement. Sophia nodded thoughtfully, already considering ways the new skill could be leveraged.

Meanwhile, Avi remained silent, his expression carefully neutral as he listened. Ken had discovered his uncanny ability to use shields instinctively, holding the line during the chaos of the first wave like he'd trained for years. Emily's potential was expanding with her new mana-copying skill. Even Sophia, with her precise shield magic, had proven invaluable.

And then there was Avi.

The system had rewarded him with… instincts. No flashy powers or awe-inspiring abilities. Just a vague sense of battle awareness that only manifested when he blacked out. No control. No consistency.

He forced a grin. "Cool. You guys are becoming superheroes. Meanwhile, I'm over here with my special ability to… trip over my own feet. Really living the dream. Call me Awkward Man."

Ken chuckled, and the others joined in, the moment briefly lifting the tension. Avi played along, but the gnawing doubt in his chest only grew. What am I even bringing to the table?

He pushed off the wall. "Alright," he said, keeping his tone light. "While you guys figure out how to become the Justice League, I'm gonna… do some training. Hone my instincts or whatever."

Ken frowned, the hint of concern in his expression almost imperceptible. "You okay, man?"

"Yeah, yeah." Avi waved him off with an easy smile. "Can't let you show me up forever, Magnum."

Ken smirked, but his worry lingered as Avi slipped out of the shelter.

Outside, the chill of the early morning air greeted Avi as he made his way to a quiet patch of dirt behind the shelter. It wasn't much—just a clearing framed by the remnants of a rusted chain-link fence—but it was secluded enough. Here, he could work without anyone watching him stumble.

Avi had salvaged two steel pipes from the debris left after the battle. They weren't balanced or ideal for training, but they'd do. He gripped them tightly, the cold metal biting into his palms, and closed his eyes.

The vision from his dream resurfaced unbidden. A knight, young but commanding, moved with breathtaking precision. His daggers weren't just weapons; they were extensions of his body. Each movement was purposeful, every strike calculated—a perfect balance of grace and lethality.

Avi opened his eyes, gripping the pipes tighter. I can do that. I have to do that.

But reality was quick to humble him.

His first attempt at mimicking the knight's spin-and-slice ended with him tripping over his own feet and landing face-first in the dirt. "Very graceful," he muttered, spitting out a mouthful of dust as he pushed himself up. "Real knight material."

The second attempt wasn't much better. Neither was the third. By the fifth, frustration simmered dangerously close to the surface. His movements were clumsy, his timing off. The pipes were too heavy, his muscles too untrained.

But he kept going.

With every failed attempt, memories of the first wave resurfaced—the imps swarming them, Ken taking hits while Avi hesitated, the helplessness of knowing he hadn't been good enough. Sure, he'd managed to fight back in a desperate burst of instinct, but that wasn't real skill. It was luck, a fluke. And luck wouldn't protect his friends next time.

He swung harder, ignoring the ache in his arms, determined to find the rhythm the knight had mastered. Each step was awkward, each spin unbalanced. He pushed through the exhaustion, frustration clawing at him.

Finally, the left pipe snapped with a sharp crack. Avi froze, staring at the broken piece of metal in his hand. The failure hit harder than it should have.

"Great," he muttered, tossing the broken pipe aside. "That's what I get for trying to be fancy."

Exhausted, he dropped to the ground, the coarse dirt digging into his palms as he sat back. His chest heaved, his arms throbbed, and the weight of his inadequacy pressed down on him.

I let Ken almost die. I can't even swing a pipe without breaking it. What am I even doing?

The doubts threatened to consume him, but he shoved them aside, forcing himself to breathe. He wouldn't spiral—not now. Not when they were counting on him.

Leaning back, Avi stared up at the sky, the first stars beginning to twinkle in the deepening dusk. A bitter laugh escaped him. "Guess I'll be needing new toys."

For now, the stars were his only companions. Tomorrow, he'd figure out a way to be better. Tonight, he let himself be human.