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The Weight of Disappointment

Yesterday, everything had been different. There was hope—excitement, even. It was Gershion’s eighteenth birthday, the day he was supposed to learn of his celestial essence and, with it, his destiny.

The morning had been warm and calm, a stark contrast to the storm of humiliation that awaited him. Miss Fiona, his foster mom, had smiled at her over breakfast, her voice soft and soothing, just like when he was a child. She always knew how to calm him down.

“You’re not like the others, Gershion,” she’d said as she handed him a piece of toast. “The circumstances of your birth were mysterious, remember? That’s why I believe you’re destined for something great.”

Her words had given him a boost of confidence, the kind he needed that day. She wasn’t his real mother, but she’d raised him as if he was, and her belief in him meant the world. It was a belief he had carried with him as he rushed out the door, ready to face the Celestial Exam—the moment that would define his future.

At eighteen, everyone learns their true potential. Their essence. It’s revealed by the Grand Celestial System, a mystical force that measures your soul and determines your rank. That rank would dictate everything—your powers, your status, your ability to fight demons and travel through celestial portals.

He’d dared to dream big. Maybe he would awaken as something powerful—a Virtue, or if he was lucky, a Dominion. He imagined himself hunting monsters, crossing through dark portals, and bringing back riches to lift Miss Fiona and me out of poverty. It wasn’t just about him—he wanted to take care of her, give her the life she deserved.

Jelu, his best friend, had been optimistic too. He’d taken the test a week before me and awakened as an Archangel, with an essence of 52. He recalled Jelu's words as he smiledid and slapped him on the back the day before my exam.

“Maybe you’ll awaken as an Archangel like me!” Jelu had grinned. “We’ll join the celestial guilds together, explore the Red Gates, and become legends!”

His words had filled Gershion with hope. He knew Jelu’s awakening was a big deal. The Celestial Ranks were divided into three hierarchies: Angels, Archangels, and Principalities in the lowest; Dominions, Virtues, and Powers in the middle; and Thrones, Cherubim, and Seraphim at the top. Those who awaken with celestial essence of 1- 35 are angles, 36-70 are archangels and 71 to 100 are principalities. 101-200 are powers.201-350 are virtues,and 351-500 are Dominions. Anyone with an essence above 500 was considered a legend, able to explore the feared and mysterious Red Gates, places where ordinary celestials couldn't survive.

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He didn’t need to reach the heights of legend. An Archangel essence would’ve been more than enough—something high enough to make a difference, to prove he wasn’t ordinary.

But then came the exam.

He stood in the hall with his heart pounding, surrounded by other students, all waiting for their turn. The Grand Celestial Orb, a massive, glowing sphere, scanned us one by one, measuring our essence. His turn came, and he stepped forward, feeling the light of the orb engulf him. He could feel its power as it weighed his soul, calculating everything about him.

For a moment, he thought he was going to explode from the anticipation.

Then, the announcement came.

“Essence: Two.”

The world seemed to stop.

And then, laughter. It started in the back of the room and quickly spread like wildfire. Whispers, giggles, mocking eyes turned toward me.

“Two? Is that even possible?”

“Lower than an infant angel!”

“Poor guy’s gonna be carrying bags for the rest of his life.”

The celestial recruiters who had come to scout him shook their heads and left without a word. He had gone from a hopeful candidate to the town joke in an instant. His dreams were shattered. He wasn’t even strong enough to be an Angel, much less an Archangel or Virtue. I was worthless, destined to be a Porter—a mere servant to those with real power, he sighed. Unable to contain the embarrassment, he run all the way home crying his eyes out.

Miss Fiona had tried to comfort him when he returned home, crushed and defeated. She wrapped her arms around me, whispering softly, “Essence doesn’t define you, Gershion. We’ll find another way.”

But her words, though kind, couldn’t dull the sting. His hopes had been dashed, his future ruined. He wasn’t just ordinary—he was less than ordinary. Useless.

That’s why, when the voice spoke to me later that night, he hadn’t hesitated. He needed power.

And now, standing in his dimly lit room, staring at the strange glowing status screen, he wasn’t sure what that power would cost him