The alarm rang at 6:00 a.m.
Ayaan Verma didn't turn it off.
He was already awake, staring at the cracked ceiling of his one-room apartment. The paint had peeled so badly it looked like something had clawed its way out.
Another day of being useless, he thought.
The news played softly from his old phone.
"—another Rift appeared in Sector 12. Authorities advise civilians to remain calm—"
Ayaan scoffed.
Calm. Right.
Rifts had been appearing for five years now. Gates tearing open reality, releasing monsters and rewriting the food chain overnight. Humanity survived only because of Rankers—humans who awakened powers after the Cataclysm.
Everyone awakened… except people like him.
Ayaan was an F-rank.
Not the weakest Ranker.
The weakest ever recorded.
He dragged himself out of bed, pulled on his worn jacket, and looked at his Ranker ID.
Name: Ayaan VermaRank: FMana Capacity: 3Special Ability: None
A joke.
Even civilians had more mana than him.
At the guild office, laughter followed him like a curse.
"Hey, bait's here."
"Don't die too fast today, F-boy."
Ayaan said nothing. He never did.
The mission board glowed.
Rift Type: MinorThreat Level: DTeam Requirement: Minimum E-rank
He shouldn't have been allowed inside.
But everyone knew why he was there.
Disposable manpower.
The team leader, Raghav (C-rank), glanced at him with disgust.
"Rule stays the same," Raghav said. "You walk first."
Ayaan nodded.
Inside the Rift, the air was wrong—thick, cold, breathing back.
His chest tightened.
Something wasn't right.
And deep down, for the first time in his miserable life—
He felt fear that didn't belong to him.