It was the 14th of March, 2025.
Final exams had ended, and the world was alive with the energy of celebration. Students everywhere were finally free—laughing, traveling, sleeping in, and escaping the weight of textbooks.
As the clock ticked toward midnight, no one sensed anything unusual. Then, precisely as the time changed from 11:59 PM to 12:00 AM, something happened.
For less than a millisecond, Earth was bathed in an intense white light.
No one saw it.
Not a single person.
Not even the most advanced satellites or scientific instruments registered the event.
It came and went like a ghost—unnoticed, unexplained, and forgotten.
Then morning came.
At exactly 8:00 AM, a 16-year-old boy named Naeem opened his eyes.
It was just another vacation day—warm sunlight spilling through the windows, and the comforting peace of no school to worry about.
After brushing his teeth and washing up, he began his usual morning workout, something he'd made a habit of during the break. For half an hour, he pushed himself—jumping, stretching, lifting, moving.
Then he sat down, crossed his legs, and closed his eyes.
Meditation.
A quiet space. A still mind.
Naeem was like many other sixteen-year-olds—curious, imaginative, and a dreamer. But unlike most, he held on tightly to his fantasies of superpowers. He didn't just wish for them—he believed, deep down.
That was why Naeem meditated every day.
In his heart, he believed it wasn't just for peace or focus—it was preparation. For what, he couldn't exactly say. But something deep inside always whispered that one day, it would all matter.
And today, it did.
As he sat cross-legged on the mat, the usual rhythm of his breath was broken by a sudden pulse. A strange sensation stirred in his chest—like a spark catching fire, like a current racing through his veins.
It wasn't painful.
It wasn't frightening.
It was... powerful.
His eyes snapped open.
He focused instinctively, drawing the energy into his hand, channeling it through his veins, down to his fingertips.
Then—without warning—a dark purple orb of energy materialized above his index finger.
It shimmered and flickered like unstable lightning, swirling in slow, deliberate motion. Small cracks of energy danced off its surface, distorting the air around it.
Naeem froze, stunned. Then joy exploded across his face.
"I... I am Naeem!" he shouted. "I will be the ruler of this world! I am the chosen one! Ha! Ha! Ha!"
His laughter rang out, wild and full of triumph.
But the celebration didn't last long.
Still trembling with excitement, he grabbed his phone and opened his favorite social media app to post about what just happened.
And then—his smile faded.
The screen was overflowing with breaking news.
"Mass Awakening: People Around the World Report Sudden Supernatural Powers!"
"Elemental Abilities Confirmed in Over 50 Countries."
"The World Has Changed Overnight."
Video clips, blurry photos, status updates—all showing people like him. Fire dancing from hands. Water spiraling in the air. People levitating. Lightning crackling. Creating wall of stone.
A trending hashtag was everywhere:
#ElementBorn
#NewEraBegins
#Awakened
Naeem's hand fell to his side. The purple orb blinked out of existence.
He wasn't alone.
He wasn't chosen.
He was one of many.
His chest tightened. That incredible, impossible moment—his fantasy come true—now felt like a drop in a rising ocean.
For a long time, he sat in silence.
Then slowly, he stood.
"No," he whispered. "This isn't the end of my dream. It's the beginning."
His eyes hardened with determination.
"If everyone has powers, then I have to rise above them all. I'll master mine. I'll grow stronger. I'll become someone the world can't ignore."
Later that day, he met with his friends.
But nothing was the same anymore.
Not the world.
Not them.
Not Naeem.
Some of Naeem's friends had awakened too.
One of them could control fire. Another could bend water at will. And his best friend, had awakened the power of earth—solid, unshakable, and strong.
They gathered together in their usual meeting spot, still trying to make sense of everything.
Naeem raised his hand and summoned the dark purple energy orb once again. It floated just above his palm, humming with quiet power.
But none of them could identify it.
"It's not fire," one friend said.
"Not water either," added another.
"It's definitely not earth or air," his best friend said, crouching to get a closer look. "I've never seen anything like it."
They were puzzled—and a little wary.
Then a notification buzzed on one of their phones. More news was spreading.
Through social media, they learned that not everyone had awakened powers.
In fact, it was the opposite.
Only around 10% of the world's population had shown any signs of awakening.
Ten percent.
The number hit hard. Suddenly, their small group didn't feel like a crowd anymore. They were part of something rare… something unknown.
After talking for a while longer, Naeem said his goodbyes and returned home.
But his mind was far from calm.
"I need a quiet place," he thought, "somewhere I can train without being seen… somewhere I can learn what this power really is."
He paced his room, trying to think.
Then it came to him.
A memory.
A place long forgotten.
One day, my friend and I were exploring near the small river behind our neighborhood. We wandered farther than usual, following the trail through the river. That's when we found it—a small village, hidden and abandoned. The houses were crumbling, nature had taken over, and not a single soul lived there.
A perfect place to be alone.
A perfect place to begin.
"I think we should name this place... The Ruins of Lucifer," Naeem had once said to his friend, half-joking, half-serious.
They had laughed about it back then, but the name stuck.
The place was exactly as they had left it.
Four or five small, crumbling houses stood quietly, wrapped in thick vines. Time had reclaimed them—roofs caved in under the weight of creeping plants, with small trees growing right through the cracks.
It was surrounded by low mounds, almost like nature had tried to bury the village in secrecy.
Now, Naeem stood there alone.
The air was still. The silence around him felt deep and untouched, like the world had forgotten this place—just as he and his friend had, until now.
He wandered slowly, scanning the area for anything unusual. But there was nothing. No sounds, no movements, no signs of life.
Just quiet.
And loneliness.
The same kind of loneliness that often sat quietly in Naeem's heart.
Then, he saw it.
A large, old mango tree stood near the edge of the ruins. Its thick branches stretched wide, casting a broad shadow over the earth below. Beneath it, the ground was dry, soft, and peaceful.
A perfect place to meditate.
Naeem sat down beneath the tree, closed his eyes, and began to focus.
Almost immediately, he felt it again.
The power.
It coursed through his veins like a river of lightning—alive, electric, and unexplainable.
He focused the energy toward his hand. Slowly, deliberately, he guided it forward, feeling it respond to his will.
In front of his hand, the air shimmered.
A strange, dark-purple energy began to gather—swirling, pulsing, growing.
This time, it was different.
This time, it felt... like it wanted to become something more.
Naeem spent nearly two hours beneath the old mango tree, perfecting his control over the strange energy.
He experimented with focus, with form, with willpower. The more he concentrated, the more the energy responded—shaping itself, vibrating with potential, like it was waiting for his command.
But by the end of it, he was completely drained.
His muscles ached. His breath came in short gasps. He was so exhausted he could barely keep his eyes open, let alone move.
I thought using this power would only strain my stamina...( he realized). But this—this feels like it affects my entire body.
He tried to stand.
His legs buckled immediately, and the only thing that happened was his body collapsing to the ground.
He fainted on the spot.
Hours later—two or maybe three—he slowly opened his eyes.
He was there all alone.After some time, he went back to the house.
He was in his room.
The ceiling fan spun lazily above him. The smell of cooked rice and lentils drifted in from the kitchen.
He sat up with a groan, head pounding and limbs heavy. Somehow, he had made it home.
Later that evening, he told his mother about the power. He expected surprise. Maybe pride. Maybe even fear.
But all she did was look at him—calm, quiet, serious.
She simply said, "Now you have responsibilities."
That was all.
No questions. No shock. No excitement.
Just that.
Naeem paused, unsure how to respond. The weight of those words lingered in the air like something heavier than he was ready to carry.
Responsibilities...?
But he pushed the thought away. He was too tired to think. Too hungry to wonder.
He turned his attention to the plate in front of him and began to eat in silence.
The next day—March 16th.
Naeem woke up at 6 o'clock in the morning, his body still sore from the day before but his spirit burning with determination.
Without wasting time, he made his way back to the Ruins of Lucifer.
The early morning light filtered through the trees as he arrived, and the air was cool and still. Without hesitation, he stepped beneath the old mango tree and began his training.
But today was different.
He didn't need to meditate for long. He didn't even need to concentrate the way he did before. The moment he thought about the energy—how it had felt in his hand—the sensation returned.
The power responded instantly.
Dark-purple energy began to gather and swirl, not just at his fingertips, but across his entire hand—wrapping it in a glowing, electric aura.
He stared at it, stunned for a moment.
Then he raised his arm and aimed toward a small tree nearby.
With a sharp motion, he willed the energy forward.
It obeyed.
The energy compressed into a dense orb—faster than before—and launched from his hand. The dark-purple sphere flew through the air and struck the tree.
There was a sudden flash—then a crack.
The portion of the tree it struck was destroyed, torn apart in a burst of shadowy energy.
Naeem's eyes lit up.
He began to train again, pushing himself harder this time—summoning the energy faster, controlling its shape, adjusting the power behind each shot.
With each attempt, he became more precise. More accurate. More efficient.
Sweat rolled down his face, but he smiled.
"This... I'll call this move Shadow Ball," he whispered to himself.
And with that name, the first of many power moves was born.
17th March
The next morning, Naeem woke up with a realization.
His power—this strange, dark-purple energy—wasn't just random. It moved silently. It felt cold and swift. It didn't shine like fire or flow like water.
It behaved like a shadow.
He remembered an old cartoon he used to watch as a kid. In one episode, a ninja had thrown a kunai at a person's shadow—and the person froze in place, unable to move.
That memory lit a fire in him.
"What if I can do something like that?" he wondered.
He focused, channeling the energy into his hand. This time, instead of forming a ball, he tried to shape it—thin, sharp, and straight—like a kunai.
His first attempt failed. The energy flickered and dissolved mid-formation.
He took a deep breath and tried again.
He failed many more times.
Concentration. Focus. Shape. Will.
The ninth time, it worked.
A shadowy kunai formed in his hand, shimmering with dark energy, sharp and perfectly still.
Naeem grinned.
Just then, he noticed a bird perched on a branch nearby. Without thinking much, he threw the kunai at it.
The kunai flew—but missed.
He sighed.
Still, he wasn't discouraged.
That entire day, Naeem trained under the shadow of the old mango tree. He practiced forming the kunai again and again, pushing himself to summon it faster each time. He worked on his throwing technique, refining his aim with every toss.
By sunset, the ground around him was littered with faint marks from impact.
He sat down, exhausted but proud.
His accuracy had improved. His control over the energy had strengthened. The kunai felt like a natural extension of his will now.
"Soon," he thought, "I'll be able to hit anything I aim at."
And deep inside, something told him—this was only the beginning.
18th March
The next day, Naeem returned once again to the Ruins of Lucifer—his secret training ground, now more familiar than his own home.
He had one thing in mind.
Control.
He spotted a bird nearby and summoned a kunai with ease, its dark-purple form pulsing gently in his hand.
With steady focus, he threw the kunai—not at the bird, but at its shadow.
It struck.
And just like before, something remarkable happened.
The moment the kunai touched the shadow, the bird froze in mid-air.
Its wings stopped moving. Time itself seemed to pause around it.
For less than a second, the creature hung there—suspended, motionless.
It worked.
But the victory was short-lived.
Naeem tried to channel more energy into the kunai, attempting to hold the shadow in place—to keep the bird from moving.
That was when it happened.
The energy surged back through him, too wild, too strong.
He lost control.
His vision blurred.
His knees gave out.
He collapsed to the ground, the world spinning around him.
Moments later, when he tried to stand, a wave of nausea struck. He fell to his knees again and began vomiting, the effort draining what little strength he had left.
Hours passed before he was finally stable again.
He sat in silence beneath the mango tree, breathing slowly, hands trembling.
Then the realization hit him.
"It's not the power that's the problem. It's me."
He thought back to the moment it all fell apart.
"The ability works. I can hold shadows... but only if I'm in control. The second I lose grip, it turns against me."
He clenched his fists.
"I need more than power. I need mastery."
And from that moment on, Naeem knew his next goal wasn't just to grow stronger—
—it was to become the master of his own shadow power.
A few days passed.
It was now the 20th of March.
Naeem sat beneath the familiar old mango tree, the heart of the Ruins of Lucifer. The wind whispered through the leaves above him, and the silence of the abandoned village wrapped around him like a cloak.
He had been practicing non-stop, perfecting his control, sharpening his abilities.
Then a new idea sparked in his mind—wild and exciting.
"What if... I could travel through shadows?"
The thought made his heart race.
He stood up immediately and focused his energy—not in his hands this time, but in his feet.
At first, it felt unnatural.
But after a few tries—then a few more—he began to feel the power respond.
The shadows around him shifted.
With more attempts—ten, twenty, maybe more—he finally managed to move using the energy, his feet gliding silently, faster than before.
The sensation was unreal.
As he kept training, he pushed harder.
He spread the energy not just through his feet but throughout his body—limbs, arms, torso.
When he started to run, something incredible happened.
Half of his body faded—vanished into the shadows beneath him, like mist merging with the ground.
He wasn't just running anymore.
He was moving with the shadows.
Blending into them.
Flowing through them.
And then, while sharpening this strange new ability, he discovered something even more shocking.
He could teleport.
Only in short bursts—ten meters at most—but it was real.
One blink, one shadow, and he was gone from one spot and standing in another.
Breathless, Naeem stood still after his last jump, his heart pounding, his mind spinning.
He looked down at his hands, now glowing faintly with a dark-purple aura.
"I'm becoming something else," he whispered.
"Something powerful."
It is teleportation!!!! what I have achieved.