talentless

"You have no talent."

The words struck Kieran harder than any physical blow ever could. They cut deep, carving a hollow ache in his chest, a wound no medicine could ever heal. For a moment, he couldn't breathe. The world around him faded, swallowed by an unbearable silence that pressed down on his shoulders like an invisible weight.

The grand hall, once filled with murmurs of anticipation, now felt suffocating. His classmates' faces blurred into a mass of judgmental stares, their whispers a cruel symphony echoing in his ears. The radiant glow of the awakening orb, which had moments ago seemed so full of promise, now felt like a mockery—a cruel trick played by fate itself.

Kieran's fingers curled into tight fists at his sides. His nails bit into his palms, drawing tiny pinpricks of blood, but he welcomed the pain. It was nothing compared to the storm raging inside him.

'Why?' he screamed inwardly. 'Why me? I did everything right! I trained, I studied, I never backed down from a fight, never turned away from someone in need. So why?'

It didn't make sense. He had always believed that good deeds were rewarded, that the gods watched over those who lived with honor. Jane had told him so time and time again.

"The gods reward the righteous, Kieran. The more good you do, the greater your blessings in the awakening ceremony."

He had clung to those words, held them close to his heart like a talisman against the darkness. But now, standing here before the entire academy, stripped of everything he'd worked for, he felt like a fool.

His mind drifted back to the day it all started—the day he made an enemy of Frank. The boy had been tormenting a younger student, shoving him into the mud, stealing his food. Kieran had stepped in without hesitation, pushing Frank away and telling him to pick on someone his own size.

That moment had sealed his fate.

Frank never forgot. He made sure Kieran suffered for it, spreading rumors, turning people against him, sabotaging his training whenever he could. Kieran had endured it all, believing that one day, when he finally awakened, he'd prove them all wrong.

But now… now, he had nothing.

The weight of dozens of stares pressed down on him, their whispered words twisting like knives.

"An SSS-rank talent, and it's useless? What a joke."

"I bet I could have unlocked it. He's just too weak."

"Maybe his talent is to be a professional loser. Ha!"

Kieran gritted his teeth, refusing to let his emotions show. But it was hard. So damn hard. The faces of people he once called friends now twisted with amusement, their sneers like daggers. These were the same people he had defended, stood up for. And now, they laughed at him like he was nothing.

A lump formed in his throat, but he forced it down.

Then, as if to make matters worse, something hooked around his ankle.

His heart lurched.

He barely caught himself before he fell, his hands scraping against the marble floor. Laughter erupted around him.

"Careful, Kieran!"

The voice was unmistakable. He didn't even need to look up to know who it belonged to.

Frank.

Kieran slowly turned his head, his jaw tightening as he met the other boy's smug grin. Frank sat lazily on the bench, his leg still extended from where he had tripped him.

"What's the matter?" Frank sneered. "Did you awaken a stumbling talent?"

More laughter followed. Kieran forced himself to his feet, his entire body trembling with suppressed anger.

'Not here. Not now.'

His gaze flickered to the teachers at the far end of the hall. They weren't paying attention, too absorbed in the rest of the ceremony. Even if they had seen, Kieran knew better than to expect help.

With a sharp inhale, he turned away. He wouldn't give Frank the satisfaction of a reaction.

His feet carried him forward on instinct. He needed to find Jane. She would understand. She wouldn't laugh at him like the others. She would—

But when he reached where she had been standing, she was gone.

Kieran's breath hitched. He looked around desperately, scanning the sea of students, but she was nowhere in sight.

"Maybe she had something important to do," he whispered, his voice hollow. But doubt gnawed at him. Had she… abandoned him, too?

The thought made his stomach churn.

Before he knew it, he had wandered out of the hall, past the academy gates, to the old stone staircase at the edge of the grounds. The gardens here were beautiful, filled with vibrant flowers and neatly trimmed hedges. But to Kieran, they felt wrong—too bright, too perfect, mocking the storm inside him.

His fingers curled around a stone.

With all his might, he hurled it into the bushes.

"Stupid. Stupid. STUPID!" he shouted, his voice raw.

Tears welled in his eyes before he could stop them. He wiped at them furiously, but they kept falling.

'Why is the world so unfair? Why does it have to be me?'

His thoughts darkened. For years, he had prayed to Orion, the god of fate. Had begged for strength, for a chance to prove himself. And what had he received in return?

Nothing.

Kieran clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached.

"Orion," he spat, his voice trembling. "Curse you. Curse your damn fate!"

Silence followed. The sun hung high in the sky, indifferent to his suffering.

The minutes passed. One by one, the students left the hall, their laughter and cheers echoing through the academy grounds.

"At least I'm not as pathetic as him," someone muttered as they walked by.

Kieran stiffened. His fingers curled into his palm again, but he stayed still. He wouldn't react. He couldn't.

Then—

Pain.

A sharp, stinging pain at the back of his head.

"Ow!" He staggered forward, reaching up. His fingers came away warm and wet. Blood.

He turned, his pulse spiking.

Frank.

The boy stood a few feet away, a smug grin on his face. In his hand, he twirled a small rock before tossing it lazily into the air and catching it again.

Ben and Jacob, Frank's ever-present lackeys, stood beside him, chuckling.

"What's the matter, Kieran?" Frank mocked. "I thought you were gonna get a talent better than mine."

Kieran exhaled sharply. His body screamed for him to fight back, to wipe that smirk off Frank's face. But he knew how this would end. He was already at the bottom—fighting back wouldn't change that.

"Leave me alone," he muttered, turning away.

But Ben stepped forward, blocking his path.

Frank's grin widened.

"You know, Kieran," he mused, his voice sickeningly sweet.

"I think we should do you a favor. How about we help you get rid of your pathetic life?"

Kieran froze.

The wind stilled.

A cold realization settled over him.

This wasn't just bullying anymore.

They were serious.