Though the distance between them wasn't much—barely a few feet—though the boy's face was scrunched up with fury, his broken arm swinging wildly as he threw himself at him… to Riley, he just seemed so slow.

So unbearably slow.

His widened eyes didn't blink, only tracked the movement as though the world around him had suddenly slowed down into a sluggish reel.

His heartbeat was calm, steady, but in the silence of his mind, it echoed like a deep drum.

His breath, once ragged from panic and confusion, had turned stable, as if his very lungs now moved in harmony with this strange force flowing through him.

'So slow…' he thought to himself, his brows lowering in disbelief.

He shifted his foot ever so slightly, tilting his body to the side.

The movement was simple, almost instinctive, nothing special. And yet, it was enough.

The boy's arm, his good one, sliced through the air like a clumsy blade, brushing past Riley's shoulder but never touching him.

Riley's head turned slightly, his gaze locked on the angry student, watching him pass by like he was nothing more than a fool stumbling in the dark.

The crowd gasped again, some whispering at how Riley had dodged so effortlessly, others snickering at the sight of the enraged boy missing his target entirely.

But Riley… Riley wasn't focused on him.

His attention had shifted, his eyes falling back on his own hands.

He raised them slowly in front of his face, ignoring the curses spat from the furious student beside him.

His hands trembled, not from fear, but from the undeniable, unexplainable power he felt coursing through them.

"This energy…" he muttered beneath his breath, though no one around him could hear.

His voice was low, almost reverent, as if he was afraid the words themselves would shatter the strange miracle.

His fingers flexed open and closed, the veins beneath his skin glowing faintly in his vision.

He didn't know if it was real light or simply his enhanced perception, but he could see it—the current that ran through him, wild yet obedient, strange yet familiar.

'This energy coursing through me…' His lips parted, curling upward as the corners of his mouth trembled into a smirk. 'Mana.'

A chuckle slipped out of him, soft at first, then louder, as though the very idea brought with it a mixture of relief and thrill.

His shoulders relaxed despite the chaos around him, despite the crowd that had grown thicker, their murmurs swelling into an audible buzz.

'I have awakened my mana… in the real world!'

The thought rang in his head like a bell, clear and sharp, shaking loose a wave of memories.

In his past life, he remembered the first time players had awakened in reality, remembered the frenzy it caused across the globe.

Governments scrambling, scientists debating, the media exploding with theories and panic.

Terry had been the first to awaken mana as well as his other abilities from the game.

Yet here he was. Riley. The one forgotten by so many, overlooked, stepped on. The one who had been forced to endure years of blurred vision and humiliation. And now, somehow, he had awakened first.

The smirk lingering on his lips slowly faded. His expression shifted, his face squeezing into a frown.

His laughter died in his throat, replaced by a heavy silence.

Should he really be happy about this?

The question gnawed at him instantly, tearing at the edges of his thoughts.

His brows furrowed as he stared down at his hands, no longer trembling but steady, strong.

He should have been rejoicing, should have been celebrating the fact that the very thing humanity had waited for was flowing through his veins.

And yet…

People awakening their mana was supposed to happen weeks from now. Weeks. Not today. Not in this moment.

Terry was supposed to be the first. That was the history Riley remembered, the memory burned into his soul from the life before. But reality had shifted, broken its own sequence, and now Riley stood here, out of place in time.

His teeth clenched as conflicting emotions churned inside him.

On one hand, he was a bit ecstatic.

There was no way he would be said about growing stronger, and finally being able to see the world sharp and clear, alive in different colours.

But on the other hand…

Was this truly a blessing?

If awakening came too soon, if he was the anomaly, the one who stood out when he wasn't supposed to… what consequences would that bring?

He didn't know. He couldn't know.

So as his smirk faded into a hard line, Riley's mind sank into that spiral of thought, the weight of the unknown pressing down on him.

'How strange.' he admitted inwardly, his chest tightening with the truth of it.

His fists clenched tighter, the glow of energy within them pulsing once more as if answering his doubt.

The crowd murmured louder, the boy with the broken hand howling in rage beside him, and Charles's stunned gaze drilling into him.

Riley's eyes were still on his own hands when the boy in front of him suddenly hissed and turned sharply, glaring daggers into him.

"Are you ignoring me?!" the boy barked, his voice cracking with rage and pain.

Riley's attention was pulled back to him instantly, his widened eyes blinking. "I… I didn't mean to hurt you," he said quickly, his tone calm. "I'm really sorry."

But the boy—Rad—didn't look convinced in the slightest. His face twisted with fury, his breaths uneven as he kept shifting his gaze between the crowd now gathering around them and his broken hand.

The pain was written all over his face. Tears had already started pooling in his eyes, threatening to spill, but he stubbornly clenched his jaw, forcing a strong front as though admitting weakness in front of others would crush his pride.

His fingers hung at odd angles, bent grotesquely, but he still tried to stand tall.

"Leave him alone, Rad!"