The century following the Great Reclamation was marked not by peace—but by understanding.
Humanity, though triumphant over the horrors that spilled through the spatial rifts, had emerged changed. No longer could people be classified merely by nationality or profession. Power—raw, elemental, and often terrifying—now lived within them. But for years, there was no way to measure it. No way to understand the scope of the abilities granted by foreign energy. Chaos lingered, not from external threats, but from the uncertainty of who held the power to shape—or end—civilization.
The breakthrough came quietly, in the laboratories of Skyreach Institute, under the funding of the Grand Alliance. It was here that researchers, both awakened and unawakened, discovered that foreign energy resonated with a unique vibrational pattern within the human body—something they began to call the core. It acted as both a conduit and a container for power, and most importantly, it could be measured.
The scale developed from that discovery became known as the Core Magnitude Index.
At its lowest measurable point, between 0.1 and 0.99, were those classified as Unawakened—individuals whose bodies could not harmonize with foreign energy. These people remained untouched by the supernatural, living out lives with all the limitations and freedoms of those before the rift era.
But there was a rule—one as immutable as gravity.
No child awakened before the age of twelve.
From birth until adolescence, every human was Unawakened. Their cores lay dormant, foreign energy flowing through them without taking root. It was only after this threshold that the first signs of awakening manifested.
Those who awakened late—past sixteen—were met with pity. Their cores, sluggish to respond, rarely developed beyond the lowest ranks. Late awakenings meant stunted growth, a ceiling too low to reach true power.
But those who awakened early—twelve, thirteen, fourteen—were the ones to watch. Their cores adapted faster, their potential limitless.
For the rest, the hierarchy was clear.
Those whose cores measured between 1.0 and 1.99 held the rank of Soldier. These individuals represented the foundation of awakened society—stronger, faster, tougher. Capable of wielding basic abilities, they formed the bulk of every standing defense force. It was from the ranks of Soldiers that humanity's protectors were born.
Beyond that came the Knights, marked by core magnitudes between 2.0 and 2.99. These were the first to exhibit true mastery over their abilities. Every major settlement had at least one Knight stationed within its walls.
At 3.0 to 3.99, the Viscount rank was a celebrated achievement. Individuals at this level could control massive energy flows and withstand cataclysmic attacks. Their command of elemental manipulation, combat enhancement, and spatial movement made them elite assets.
Ranks above this were once considered myth.
The Count rank (4.0 to 4.99) represented power on a large scale—defenders of major cities. Dukes (5.0 to 5.99) were entities unto themselves, often needing containment measures simply to train safely. When a Duke moved, the earth trembled—sometimes literally.
The King-rank, between 6.0 and 6.99, marked the boundary between mortal and something more. Those who reached this level could defy natural law. Time dilation, quantum displacement, controlled entropy—terms once confined to theory became tools in their hands. Kings rarely appeared in public. Their existence alone was deterrent enough.
But even they bowed in reverence before the Saints, beings whose core magnitude fell between 7.0 and 7.99. Only a handful had ever existed. Their powers were considered sacred, and their control over the energy field that surrounded the planet was such that they could silence entire nations. Their names were etched in every academy wall, not as warnings—but as prayers.
And at the very edge of understanding, between 8.0 and 8.99, stood the Divine. Humanity believed these individuals to be the closest things to gods. Their appearances were unproven, their true powers unknown. It was believed that those who reached this level displayed behaviors no longer bound by human reasoning. Some simply... stopped existing in ways science could explain.
To climb the magnitude ladder was not merely to grow stronger—it was to ascend a path that might strip away one's very humanity.
In time, this system became the foundation of society. Children were tested early, their core potential monitored like a ticking clock. Those who showed promise were entered into prestigious academies like the Arachis. Advancement was earned through demonstration, trial, and ritual. Core magnitude was tracked by advanced resonance devices, and unauthorized concealment was a high crime.
And so, in this reborn world—scarred by monsters and mended by power—magnitude became law.
It governed one's role.
One's worth.
And, sometimes, one's fate