The orphans began to eat. At least those who were able to.

  Some vomited shortly after finishing their meal.

  Rat watched it all with joy and excitement.

  Asher stood out among the other children, seemingly unfazed by what awaited him.

  After eating, the orphans left the dining hall and entered the corridor. Children under the age of twelve went off to perform their daily duties.

  Meanwhile, the twelve-year-olds followed Rat. She led them to a large room where the "Awakening" ritual took place every year.

  "Those metal doors... After all these years, I will finally step through that threshold and get my chance."

  Beneath Asher’s fear, there was a trace of excitement.

  When he was six years old, he first heard about the Awakening. The older boys whispered about it as if it were a rite of passage - the Awakening was supposed to grant power, but it could just as easily mean death.

  The orphans had always viewed the Awakening as Judgment Day. A death sentence. Or a chance to surpass the limits of ordinary humans.

  None of them were truly sure they wouldn’t mutate into a monster. Most would have preferred not to take the risk - but not all.

  A few children in the orphanage wanted revenge. To gain power that would grant them unimaginable abilities.

  They wanted vengeance against the monsters after all. Their parents had died at the hands of those hideous, foul creatures.

  The orphanage aimed to raise children with strong minds. Those who weren’t resilient enough, no matter how well they endured the harsh regime - would not survive the future.

  But not every twelve-year-old could be expected to possess such a level of mental fortitude and perseverance.

  The children entered the room with Rat. There were about forty of them.

  Rat could barely contain her excitement, she stood to the side, eagerly watching what was about to unfold.

  Asher stood in four rows of ten alongside the others. He was in the front row, ensuring he would see everything clearly. They stood shoulder to shoulder, silent, as if trapped. The air was thick with moisture and the scent of rusted metal.

  The room was the size of a standard classroom.

  At the far end, two scientists were preparing to begin the experiment.

  One wore a white lab coat, had longer blond hair, and glasses perched on his nose. He was short and seemed completely uninterested in the children.

  The other wore a black coat that looked more like a military trench coat. He had high, black combat boots.

  Combined with his short black hair, dark beard, and cold gaze scanning the children, he resembled their executioner.

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  A pistol at his belt only reinforced that image.

  Silver syringes gleamed under the dim light of the lamp.

  The scientist in the white coat picked up a syringe and approached the children.

  As the first boy was pushed forward, Asher felt his heartbeat quicken.

  "Mark," the short scientist in white addressed the other indifferently.

  Mark gave a slight nod, his eyes cold, and drew a short weapon - a black powder revolver reminiscent of ancient firearms.

  But even the children in the orphanage knew what it truly was - a revolver from the Ashen Era, specifically designed for hunting monsters.

  Though mass-produced, it wasn’t as valuable as the ammunition itself.

  In these times, bullets contained gunpowder infused with Monster Core residue. These particular rounds were made from the weakest core - Stage 1.

  Stage 1 monsters were commonly called the Mindless. They could only move forward and attack instinctively. They had no sense of danger, nor could they do anything besides blindly chasing their prey.

  Yet, even their cores held a power previously unknown to humanity. A power that opened new possibilities in many fields, igniting hope that mankind could reclaim the Earth and defeat the Monsters.

  The scientist took the syringe and, with slow but decisive movements, injected the Awakening into the boy’s chest.

  He stepped back.

  The boy, pale and drenched in sweat, simply stood there and waited. The standoff lasted about fifteen seconds. His hands slowly began to transform. Blood vessels surfaced unnaturally.

  The orphan started to tremble.

  "S-Sir, t-this is normal, r-right..?" he gasped, his breathing growing heavier and more erratic.

  The scientists remained silent, observing the mutation with detached coldness.

  As the boy’s arms turned a sickly scarlet red, his legs began to swell.

  They puffed up gradually.

  His hair started falling out.

  His right eyelid stretched open while his left eye flooded with blood.

  When the right eyelid finally expanded to its limit -

  His eye popped out.

  The boy stopped gasping, stopped breathing, stopped trembling.

  His face, once filled with terror, went completely blank.

  He lifted his head, twisting it unnaturally.

  And he looked. Looked directly at the scientist in the white coat before him.

  Watching everything unfold, Asher felt a slight unease.

  "I won’t look away. I have to witness this. A creature like that won’t scare me."

  Finding his resolve, Asher calmed himself.

  But not all the children around him could handle it the same way.

  "No, I can’t! I don’t want to be here!!!" one of the orphans suddenly screamed in panic.

  Mark, with a faint smirk at the corner of his mouth, fired a shot into the boy’s head, splattering his brain across the children behind him. The bullet passed through them, leaving a hole in the wall.

  Those who were hit by the boy’s remains felt bile rise in their throats. But out of fear for their own lives, they swallowed it back down. They would never forget this moment.

  For the first time in their lives, the orphans felt fear on an entirely new level.

  "Silence. Watch closely. You will have to witness this again. The weak won’t survive here." Mark’s cold voice cut through the room as he continued watching the mutating boy.

  Fearing the consequences of disobedience, the children fixated their eyes on the scene before them. No one looked away. No one spoke.

  Everyone was terrified. Everyone knew this was the worst nightmare of their lives.

  Except for Asher.

  Asher, on the other hand, could hardly wait for his turn.

  "All or nothing. Everything changes today." He thought, unfazed by the boy’s corpse.

  It was still unclear whether the boy would survive the transformation into a Monster and remain only a Mutant.

  Or whether he would fully become a Monster.

  But everything pointed to the latter.

  The boy, still unable to regain control over his body, suddenly lunged at the scientist, his jaw unhinging unnaturally as a long, black tongue slithered from his mouth down past his chin.

  Before he could reach the scientist, Mark appeared beside him, pinned him to the ground with his boot, and fired a shot straight into his head.

  As the chaos settled, a chilling silence filled the room. The children held their breath, staring at Mark, who slowly lifted his foot off the monster’s corpse.

  "This is what will happen to you if you fail to control your transformation." Mark stated in his characteristic cold tone before returning to his place.

  "Next." the man in the white coat called.

  "Shit, I want to be that strong."

  Asher swallowed hard, watching Mark in action.