CHAPTER 5

The announcement hung like a lightning strike, its ripples of shock visible on every face. Mrs. Dumont stood confidently on the stage, her gray and gold dress catching the light as she surveyed the room. The weight of her words was palpable.

“A limited number of invitations.”

The room buzzed with murmurs, whispers darting between candidates like static electricity. The founders’ house, the epitome of prestige and power, was now opening its doors—however slightly—to outsiders.

I glanced at Hector, whose earlier skepticism was now replaced with wide-eyed disbelief. “This is insane,” he muttered. “They’ve never let anyone but pure founders into their ranks.”

Before I could respond, Mrs. Dumont continued.
"That is however not the big news I promised. Candidates who received a negative trace, your journey is not over. We proudly present a new special experiment that might offer you...powers."

Oliver Obed, sitting near the edge of the Founder’s section, clenched his fists. He had been stewing in silence since his NEGATIVE TRACE had been revealed, his sharp features twisted in frustration. Now, he stood abruptly.

“What kind of ‘special experiment’?” Oliver demanded, his voice sharp as a blade.

Mrs. Dumont’s gaze flicked to him, calm and unwavering. “An opportunity to rewrite your destiny, Mr. Obed. For those without the mutant gene, we’ve developed a method to awaken latent abilities—an experimental procedure that could grant powers where there were none.”

The murmurs turned into an uproar. Candidates exchanged incredulous looks, while others shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

“They’re giving powers to people without the gene?” Hector hissed. "Awesome." Arlon returned to the podium and began reading off names, everyone hanging on his every word.

“Hector Cruz.”
Hector’s face drained of color. “What? No—no way!” he stammered.

“Oliver Obed.”
A slow, confident smirk spread across Oliver’s face as he rose to his feet.

More names followed, including Diana Novak, whose disappointment from her earlier results was now replaced with hesitant hope. A total of ten candidates were called, all with NEGATIVE TRACE.
As the selected candidates gathered near the stage, the rest of us exchanged wary glances. The tension was unbearable.

Mrs. Dumont raised her hands for silence. “For the rest of you, do not see this as a competition but as a collaboration. We are entering a new era—one where power is no longer confined to genetics but shaped by choice, resilience, and innovation.”

“Of course,” Arlon added, his voice smooth and practiced, “this procedure is not without risk. Those selected must willingly accept the terms.”A screen behind them illuminated, showing a diagram of the experimental procedure. It involved a neural infusion system and what appeared to be injections of a glowing, crystalline serum.

One of the candidates—Diana—stepped forward hesitantly. “What happens if it fails?”

Mrs. Dumont’s gaze didn’t waver. “Failure means you remain as you are. But the chances of success outweigh the risks significantly.”

Her words hung in the air like a dare.

Oliver stepped forward, his smirk now a full grin. “I’ll do it,” he said confidently.

“No surprise there,” Michael muttered, crossing his arms.

The chosen candidates were led away under heavy escort, their departure marked by a silence that was anything but calm. The rest of us were dismissed, but the room buzzed with tension as we scattered into smaller groups.

“I don’t trust this,” I said quietly to Michael as we walked toward the Founders' wing.

Most people start manifesting powers a few days after the procedure, however, our year must have been full of latecomers. I spent my days reading books about the power systems that have been documented. There were some powers I wanted, such as superstrength, and some I did not want like invisibility. All the procedural candidates stayed together within the Founder's house until we manifested abilities, and then we would choose which house to call home.

Phoebe Thunder from the Glades was the first to fully unlock her powers. She walked in with an unmistakable aura, lightning flickering across her fingertips. She grinned, her blue eyes crackling with energy as she ignited a small bolt and let it dance above her palm.
“Storm manipulation,” she said smugly to a small crowd that had gathered. “Just like my grandmother.”

“Hey, watch this!” shouted Frank Castle. He threw a chair across the hall in a tantrum, but before it hit the ground, Chester from the Elite extended his hand. The chair froze mid-air, held by his telekinetic power.
“Seriously, Frank?” Chester said dryly, lowering the chair gently to the floor.
Elsa Revel conjured a perfect sphere of water, which hovered gracefully in the air.
Jackson Peralta cracked the floor with a single stomp, his raw physical strength sending a shockwave through the hall. Michael, ever the prodigy, displayed a dazzling mix of electricity manipulation and telekinetic enhancement, charging electronics with precision and sending objects flying with a crackling flick of his hand.

“Nothing yet?” Michael’s voice cut through my thoughts.

I shook my head. “You?”

He smirked, holding up his hand. A display of lighting brightly sparkled across his arm. "Wait, isn't that like Phoebe?" I asked.
"Not really, I can also move objects with the lightning and charge up electronics and stuff." 

"Did you expect it, you seem highly knowledgable given you unlocked it five minutes ago."
He grinned smugly when I asked about his newfound prowess. “Founders' blood,” he explained. “Both my parents are first-class mutants. I’ve been training for this my entire life.”

The next morning, chaos erupted in the Dome. The candidates who had undergone the experimental procedure were back—and they weren’t the same.

Oliver Obed stood at the forefront, his presence like a storm cloud. His veins glowed faintly blue, and his eyes carried a dangerous, unnatural light. Behind him, the other nine followed, their expressions a mix of triumph and menace.

“I guess the experiment worked,” Michael said beside me, his tone low and wary.

Oliver raised his hands, and the air around him rippled. A moment later, jagged crystalline structures erupted from the floor, scattering candidates in every direction.

“What the hell is he doing?” Hector shouted, diving for cover as another crystalline spike exploded nearby.

“Showing off,” Michael growled.

Oliver’s laughter echoed through the hall. “You wanted to doubt us? Let me show you what power looks like!”

He raised a hand, a massive shard forming above him, poised to strike.
"Oliver, stop this!" Diana Novak's voice boomed from the entrance, but he ignored her.

The shard shot forward—straight toward me.

Time slowed as adrenaline flooded my veins. I tried to move, but my body felt frozen, rooted in place by fear.

“Jace, move!” Michael’s shout cut through the chaos as he leaped between me and the shard. His lightning surged, deflecting part of the attack, but a smaller fragment struck his shoulder, sending him sprawling.

The sight of Michael bleeding snapped something inside me. My vision blurred, and a roaring filled my ears.

My hands moved instinctively, glowing with a crimson light. The air around me seemed to bend, and Oliver’s next attack—a volley of crystalline spikes—froze mid-air.

“What—” Oliver’s voice faltered, his smug confidence replaced by confusion.

I clenched my fists, and the frozen shards shattered into harmless dust. My other hand lashed out, and a crimson whip of liquid struck the ground at Oliver’s feet, forcing him to stumble back.

“What... was that?” Michael asked, clutching his wounded shoulder as he struggled to his feet.

“I... I don’t know,” I stammered, staring at my glowing hands. The burst of energy was fading, but the sensation of power lingered.

I am a second-class?