The Awakening Error - The system's Greatest Error

The cold night air bit at Ethan's skin as he moved through the darkened streets, his breath coming in quiet, measured exhales. His escape had been easier than expected—no one had truly been watching him. That was the truth of it. He had been a ghost in his own home long before he ever stepped into the night.

The grand estate was behind him now, its towering walls nothing more than a shadow on the horizon. For the first time in his life, there were no expectations. No eyes to judge him. But that also meant something terrifying—he was alone.

Ethan tightened the thin cloak around his shoulders, a weak barrier against the creeping chill. He had no food. No money. No direction. But what he did have was something far more valuable—resolve.

The Reality of Survival

By dawn, exhaustion weighed heavy on him, and hunger gnawed at his stomach. He had never had to think about his next meal before. Food had always been placed before him, whether he was acknowledged or not. Now, he had to earn it.

The streets of the lower district were a world apart from the opulence of his former life. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, damp wood, and the faint bitterness of something burning. Merchants barked their wares, children weaved between the crowd, and watchful eyes followed Ethan's movements.

He was out of place. Even in his simplest clothes, he looked noble—his posture, the way he carried himself, his clean hands that had never known hard labor.

And that made him a target.

The First Confrontation

"Lost, are we?"

The voice came from a man lounging against a wooden crate, his sharp eyes glinting with interest. He wasn't alone—three others circled behind Ethan, cutting off any escape.

He had nothing worth stealing, but that didn't matter. They could see it—the softness of someone untested.

Ethan's heart pounded, but he forced himself to stay still, his mind racing. He wasn't helpless. He had spent years watching his family's warriors train, even if he had never been allowed to participate. He had studied movement, footwork, how a stance could reveal a fighter's intent.

But knowledge wasn't enough. He had to act.

The first thug lunged—Ethan sidestepped, his instincts sharper than he realized. But the second was faster, and a rough shove sent him stumbling backward. He hit the ground hard, dirt and pain flooding his senses.

For a moment, the world blurred, whispers of humiliation from the banquet creeping into his thoughts. Was this all he was? Weak? Worthless?

No.

A spark.

One of the bandits stepped forward, his fingers curling as flames ignited in his palm.

Ethan's breath hitched—this was real power, not just brute force. Fire. A trait-user.

He had no time to think, no time to dodge. The fire-wielder grinned, thrusting his hand forward—a ball of flame surged toward Ethan.

Then, something happened.

The hum of his Adaptive Resonance roared to life, like a tuning fork struck with impossible force.

Ethan felt it—not just the fire, but the force behind it, the energy, the way it surged through the air. His body reacted before his mind could catch up.

He raised his hands.

The fire struck—but it didn't burn. It sank into him.

A wave of heat flooded his veins, his muscles tensed, his breath caught. His body wasn't just absorbing it—it was understanding it.

And then, he released it.

A burst of flame erupted from his outstretched palms, wild and uncontrolled. It wasn't a perfect imitation, but it was enough. The bandit barely had time to scream before the wave of heat slammed into his chest, sending him sprawling backward.

The other thugs staggered, their expressions shifting from amusement to something sharper—fear.

Ethan stood there, his hands still trembling, his breath uneven. He had done it.

He had resonated with the attack. Copied it. Returned it.

But it had taken something from him too. His limbs felt weaker, his chest heavy, as if something deep inside him had burned alongside the flame. He wasn't invincible. He wasn't limitless. But he was not helpless.

The thugs hesitated. They didn't understand what they had just seen.

Neither did Ethan.

But he knew one thing—he was no easy target.

The leader of the group cursed, grabbing the injured fire-user and backing away. They weren't willing to take the risk.

"Not worth it," one of them muttered. "Let's go."

Ethan watched them disappear into the crowd, his pulse still racing.

He had survived.

But more than that—he had changed.

The Path Forward

As the adrenaline faded, Ethan knew one thing—this was only the beginning. If he was going to prove them all wrong, if he was going to become something greater, he needed more than just a moment of luck.

He needed training. He needed knowledge. He needed power.

And somewhere in this vast, unforgiving world, he would find it.