A Little 5,700 Word Thread Reply Can't Be That Bad

In my world, power isn’t optional.

It’s not a personality trait.

It’s not a nice-to-have.

It’s not something you can compensate for with hard work, optimism, or a really inspiring playlist.

Power is something that most humans have to a degree.

Ever since the tower and gates appeared humans have changed, gaining supernatural powers and abilities.

So why do I sound upset, that's pretty cool right. Well... I had exactly zero.

Nilch. Zilch. Nunyun powers.

Which, according to society, meant I wasn’t just weak, I was a dud.

Hunters were everywhere.

Billboards showed them mid-pose, glowing weapons raised, hair flowing dramatically like they’d personally owned the world.

News feeds counted dungeon clears like sports scores. Kids argued over which guild they wanted to join before they’d even lost all their baby teeth.

And me?

I was Keiko.

Age twenty.

Hunter license: pending.

Awakening result: NULL.

Capital letters. Bold font. Very insulting.

The Awakening Center technician had actually cleared her throat when she read it, like she was about to deliver tragic medical news.

As if I had f*cking DIED. DIED.

“I’m… sorry,” she sobbed, tears falling gracefully from her eyes.

I wasn’t dying, I was just powerless.

Which was to some, arguably worse.

From that moment on, my life entered what I like to call the Background Character Arc.

Friends awakened and became G-rank hunters.

Some reaching the mighty C-rank.

One guy from my class developed flame manipulation and immediately started wearing fingerless gloves indoors.

Another awakened telekinesis and began levitating his phone instead of holding it like a normal person.

My neighbor’s kid summoned a spirit wolf and named it something edgy like Nightfang.

I awakened the ability to stand very still and feel awkward.

Hunters trained, they got sponsored, some even got scouted by guilds with logos sharp enough to cut glass.

I got rejected from a janitorial position at a dungeon support facility.

Apparently, no combat utility was a dealbreaker even when your job is mopping monster blood off concrete.

Still, I didn’t give up.

Because I was stupid.

I trained, I ran and I even lifted.

Countless hours were spent studying dungeon theory, monster patterns, mana circulation, awakening mechanics—everything except how to stop embarrassing myself.

But I had one sanctuary.

One sacred place where powerless nobodies like me could scream into the void.

The Hunter’s Forum, the perfect place to larp.

Just because I wasn't an actual hunter who said I couldn't larp and pretend to be.

I logged into my anonymous account, altchan.

If real life was where the gifted showed off, the forum was where everyone complained, ragebaited and posted their daily tales.

Hunters whining about guild politics.

Rants about dungeon taxes.

Long essays arguing which skills and classes were overrated.

Conspiracy threads claiming awakenings were secretly rigged.

It was beautiful.

That night, I was doomscrolling again, lying on my bed.

Lights off.

My phone two inches from my face like a raccoon guarding a treasure.

That’s when I saw the post.

[Veteran S-Rank] “This Generation Is Wasting Its Potential.”

I should have scrolled past.

I didn’t.

The post was exactly what you’d expect.

Paragraphs upon paragraphs about back in my day, how hunters now relied too much on gear, teamwork, and hand-holding systems.

How true strength came from adversity.

How people didn’t deserve their powers if they weren’t willing to suffer.

All from a supposed S-Rank Hunter with no post ID. Of course they'd gone anonymous!

It had thousands of likes.

Thousands.

The comments were worse.

] -So true, sir.
] - Respect to the old guard.

]- Old people these days, what do you know about hunting.

]- Kids these days wouldn’t survive a real dungeon.

I felt something inside me crack.

Not my awakening, that ship had sailed.

Something much more dangerous, my patience.

I started typing.

At first, it was meant to be short, just a quick jab or a witty remark.

A harmless poke at an ego the size of a dungeon boss but five minutes later, I was still typing.

Ten minutes later, my fingers hurt.

Thirty minutes later, I was citing forum threads, hunter mortality statistics, economic barriers to awakening training, and the fact that not everyone gets powers on command, you absolute fossil.

I don’t know when it crossed the line.

Somewhere between paragraph twelve and the footnote.

Yes, I added footnotes.

By the time I hit “post,” the rant was a colossal 5,700 words long.

I reread it once.

It was unhinged and passionate.

My precious sheila.

It was eloquent in places and uncomfortably personal in others, just what the world needed.

I stared at my computer screen for a moment deliberating whether to post it or not.

I posted it anyway.

First 30 minutes nothing, next hour still nothing, then all of a sudden it happened.

The thread exploded.