Global Awakening: Starting With Ten SSS-Rank Talents

On the twenty-ninth day, Jet was barely holding on to his consciousness.

His face was a ghostly, translucent white, accented by deep, hollow black sockets around his eyes. He had lost nearly fifteen pounds in a month. His skin was tightly stretched over his bones, entirely covered in a vast, overlapping network of dark, intricate, and terrifying mythological figures. From his ankles up to his throat, his body was a living ledger of ancient gods and primordial forces. The ink was completely saturated, humming with a strange, unnatural static that made the hairs on Kuze’s arms stand up whenever he leaned in close.

”The final piece,” Kuze whispered, his voice hoarse from a month of sleepless, hyper-focused labor. He was holding a micro-needle cartridge, his fingers hovering over Jet’s face.

Jet sat perfectly still on the chair, his head tilted back against the headrest. His gaze was fixed on the ceiling tiles.The tenth tattoo was the Primal Yin-Yang. It was a highly compressed, perfect circular sequence of runic equations, designed to act as the central balancing core for the other nine world-shattering forces etched into his flesh.

Its designated structural location was the exact center of his brow, the third eye meridian”There is no fatty tissue here,” Kuze said softly, his thumb pressing against the skin right between Jet’s eyes. ”The needle will be striking directly against the periosteum of your frontal bone. The pain will vibrate straight into your cerebral cortex. You might experience temporary blindness or visual hallucinations. If you pass out, your brain might slip into a coma due to the high-density trauma.”

”Finish it,” Jet said. His voice was incredibly quiet, but it held a chilling, unyielding certainty that brooked no argument.

Kuze leaned in, stabilizing his wrist against Jet’s cheekbone. He activated the micro-needle.The moment the tip touched the center of Jet’s forehead, an explosion of pure, blinding white light shattered Jet’s vision. It didn’t feel like a needle; it felt as if a rusted iron nail were being driven slowly into his skull with a heavy sledgehammer.

The vibration traveled deep into his brainstem, making his ears ring with a deafening, metallic screech. His entire body wanted to convulse, to throw itself off the chair and rip the machinery apart, but he locked his muscles with every ounce of mental strength he possessed.

He anchored his mind to the image of his little sister’s white eyes, forcing his body to remain as still as a stone monument.Line by line. Circle by circle. The complex runic equations of the Primal Yin-Yang were engraved into the center of his forehead.Click.

The whirring of the machine finally ceased.

Master Kuze stepped back, his legs buckling slightly from sheer physical and mental exhaustion. He sank heavily into his rolling stool, dropping the expensive digital stylus onto the metal tray with a clatter.

He looked at Jet, his eyes wide with a mixture of awe and absolute terror.

Jet sat up slowly.He could feel the heavy, thumping pulse at the center of his brows, the tiny, geometric seal sitting perfectly between his eyes like a dark mark of sovereignty.

”We’re done,” Kuze breathed, wiping the blood from Jet’s forehead with a final piece of sterile gauze. ”Thirty days. Ten tattoos. This is quite insane kid, never thought that I would do this kind of intense job before.”

Jet looked at Master Kuze and smiled, his face pale and tired, ”Thanks.”

Master Kuze waved his hand, his face also quite pale, after all he have to focus intensely for this kind of this. ”No worries kid, I have to day you pushed me to my limits.”

Jet smiled and stood up on his unsteady, trembling legs, put his black clothes back on over his heavily bandaged body, and walked out into the cool night air.Master Kuze looked at Jet disappearing back as a strange glint flickered in his eyes as his mind went back to what Jet old him, a few days ago.

”What a strange kid...”

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September 14th, 2075.

A full month had passed since Jet had walked out of that coffee shop.

The automated financial systems had already begun sending aggressive foreclosure warnings to his phone regarding his parents’ mortgaged apartment, but Jet had simply deleted the notifications without reading them.

The loan sharks had left dozens of threatening voice messages on his machine, promisingto break his legs if the first interest payments weren’t cleared by tomorrow morning.

He didn’t care.Jet stood quietly on the rooftop of his apartment complex, leaning his forearms against the cold concrete railing.

The night breeze blew past, ruffling his messy platinum hair. His face was incredibly tired and pale, the skin around his cheekbones looking sharp and gaunt. The dark, heavy circles under his eyes made him look like a walking corpse, and a faint, persistent throbbing remained at the center of his brows, right where the Primal Yin-Yang seal was etched.

Below him, the city was entirely alive, bustling with millions of ordinary citizens going about their nightly routines. The massive digital billboards on the skyscrapers were still flashing bright advertisements for elite First-Generation Guilds, showing professional Raiders smilingand showing off their wealth.

The streets were filled with cars, and the sidewalk cafes were packed with teenagers laughing and enjoying their youth.None of them knew. None of them had any idea that the entire foundation of human society was about to be violently ripped apart and rewritten for the second time in history.

Jet reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and checked the digital clock on the lock screen. It was 11:59 PM.

He lowered the device, his bloodshot white eyes turning upward to lock onto the bright, silver moon hanging silently in the center of the dark sky.

A slow, cold smile spread across his cracked lips.

He raised a trembling, ink-covered hand to his face, his fingers lightly brushing against the heavy, tattoos hidden beneath his clothes.

”Tomorrow,” Jet muttered, his hoarse voice barely a whisper against the howling night wind, ”was the Second Red Moon.”

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