Chapter 3 Three
Chapter Three
Five years had passed since the mysterious force known as the System descended upon Earth and fundamentally rewrote the rules of existence.
Lucas sat alone at a quiet bus stop in front of a sleek, gleaming corporate building that seemed to reject his presence with its polished indifference. He looked like someone who had been ill for far too long. His skin was unnaturally pale, and his thin frame suggested weeks of barely eating. The longer he remained seated, the more he seemed to merge with the cold metal bench beneath him.
He let out a long, bitter sigh.
“I guess getting fired was inevitable. When you look like you might drop dead at any moment, what boss would want to keep you around?” he muttered to himself.
With a weary motion, he pulled up his status window.
[User: Lucas Ashworth]
[Level: 11]
[Job: None]
[Titles: None]
[Talents: None]
[Innate Abilities: None]
Attributes:
Strength: 9 ║ Agility: 9 ║ Vitality: 7 ║
Stamina: 7 ║ Perception: 15 ║ Stat Points: 0
Skills:
- Basic Swordsmanship
- Basic Archery
Everything had changed on the Day of Awakening — the moment the System arrived. Strange energy had flooded the atmosphere and seeped into the planet itself, twisting the natural order. Animals, birds, insects, and even ordinary plants began mutating in ways no one had ever imagined.
Humans, however, did not mutate in the same way. Their bodies remained stable, but something ancient awakened within them. It unlocked the potential for Evolution — a phenomenon that allowed people to surpass the old limits of humanity. That day was remembered worldwide as the Day of Awakening.
It was also one of the bloodiest days in human history.
Monsters and beasts had poured into every corner of the world. Some were grotesque distortions of familiar creatures. Others were so alien that no name could properly describe them. Cities crumbled. Countless lives were lost. Some humans transformed as well. Those who failed to survive the initial chaos became what the System called Vileborns.
Lucas had survived the Awakening, yet he had never considered it a blessing.
Those who endured gained power at a frightening speed. They could level up by defeating Vileborns and the monsters that emerged from newly formed portals linked to unknown realms. Each victory increased their level. New skills awakened. Talents emerged. Abilities that defied the laws of science became ordinary.
Guided by the System, humanity slowly reclaimed the territories it had lost.
Eventually, the endless waves of monsters subsided. The portals grew quiet. The world never returned to its former state, but the fighting became more manageable. That was when humanity turned its attention to the Towers.
Each Tower served as a gateway to countless other realms scattered across the universe. Inside lay both deadly danger and unimaginable opportunities for growth. Anyone strong enough to awaken a class and reach the required level could enter and exit the Towers freely. They could evolve beyond human limits. Some even changed their race entirely.
Lucas had no such path open to him.
He had survived the Awakening only to discover that no talent awaited him on the other side. His level had stalled at eleven despite every ounce of effort he poured in. Without a talent, he could not keep pace with those who hunted monsters or climbed the Towers. He could barely defend himself when faced with even a low-tier Vileborn.
It had taken humanity roughly one and a half years to clear the remaining monsters from the cities. Once a fragile stability returned, the Association was formed. Its purpose was to regulate the Gifted, maintain order, and prevent the powerful from abusing their strength. It also claimed to protect the weak, the low-leveled, and the talentless.
Lucas had never believed that promise. In his eyes, the talentless were nothing more than dead weight. Those with real power saw them as a burden they were reluctantly forced to tolerate.
Still, the Association provided basic office work for low-level Gifted. That was how Lucas had ended up in a small administrative department, buried under endless reports. His days consisted of typing summaries on the System, Gifted population statistics, monster classifications, Vileborn activity, Abyss Gate readings, talent behaviors, skill variations, and evolutionary paths recorded by Tower climbers.
As time passed, his illness had grown steadily worse. Tasks that once felt manageable became exhausting. Reading through a full report drained the strength from his limbs. Typing became a painful struggle. Eventually, the Association had let him go, replacing him with someone healthier and more reliable.
He hadn’t been surprised — only deeply tired.
“If I had a talent, I could have climbed levels faster. I could have fixed this cursed sickness,” he whispered, frustration trembling in his voice.
His gaze drifted upward. The massive Tower loomed over the rebuilt skyline of Eldridge City like an ancient monument from another age, its dark stone cutting sharply into the night sky.
The sight only tightened the knot in his stomach.
“Forget it,” he muttered. “Thinking about it changes nothing. I never asked to be born without talent. I never asked for this sickness to eat away at my life.”
He clenched his fists until his pale knuckles ached.
“What now? I have no savings left. Everything went to painkillers and medicine. My job is gone. No one is going to hire a useless, sick guy like me.”
A thin, weary breath escaped him.
“Do I really just sit here and wait to die? At this rate, hunger will finish me long before the sickness does.”
A strange prickling sensation suddenly tugged at the edge of his awareness. He turned his head, instincts sharpened by years of survival, and saw the air ripple beside him. Mana thickened like heavy fog as a distortion formed. A portal materialized, glowing with a deep, ominous red hue.
A red Abyss Gate had opened right next to the bus stop.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Lucas breathed. “A red Abyss Gate here? Now? I must have used up every last bit of luck just surviving this long.”
He barely had time to stand before something stepped through.
The creature that emerged looked like it had been stitched together from nightmares. Its body was a writhing mass of tentacles that moved in unnatural rhythm. Three deformed heads rose from its shoulders, and six vertical yellow eyes glowed with a cold, insatiable hunger that chilled the air. It towered nearly thirteen feet tall and radiated a crushing aura of dread.
Lucas felt his throat tighten.
“This can’t be happening,” he whispered. His legs refused to obey, no matter how desperately he willed them to move.
His thoughts narrowed to a single, terrifying truth.
“I’m going to die.”
His trembling hand reached for the small knife he always carried. The thin blade felt laughably inadequate. Still, gripping it gave him something to focus on besides the horror advancing toward him.
He forced himself toward the emergency alarm mounted on the bus stop wall. His palm slammed against the button. A loud siren immediately blared through the street, echoing across the district.
“High-level Gifted will be here in two minutes,” he thought desperately. “I just need to run. I need to move now.”
He didn’t make it a single step.
A thick tentacle whipped through the air and smashed into the bus stop with devastating force.
BOOM.
The entire structure shattered. Lucas was hurled across the road before he even registered the impact. He tumbled across the asphalt and landed in a crumpled heap, pain exploding through every part of his body.
A harsh cough forced blood up his throat.
His hand instinctively pressed against his ribs as agony radiated outward.
“I have to run,” he thought, his vision spinning, body shaking.
His mind screamed at him to move, but his limbs ignored every command. He could barely lift his head.
If he hadn’t reached level eleven, the blow would have turned him into a smear on the pavement. Even with the small amount of strength he possessed, his injuries were severe.
“Stand up,” he rasped through gritted teeth. “Move. Please.”
Drawing on the last stubborn fragment of will he had left, Lucas forced his legs beneath him. He wobbled upright, though the world spun wildly around him.
The monster was already closing in. The same tentacle that had struck him earlier rose again.
Before it could wrap around him, a massive ball of fire streaked across the street and slammed into the creature. The explosion knocked both Lucas and the monster backward. He rolled further down the road, scraping across the rough asphalt until he came to a stop near the curb.
A man clad in shining armor rushed onto the scene, gripping a heavy longsword that looked capable of cleaving stone.
“It really is a red Abyss Gate,” the man said. “We haven’t seen one in a long time.”
A woman in flowing robes approached right behind him.
“Then we end this quickly,” she replied. She summoned another large fireball between her hands and hurled it at the creature.
The impact severed one of the tentacles cleanly. It hit the ground with a wet thud.
Moments later, the severed limb began to regenerate. The flesh twisted and rebuilt itself right before their eyes.
“It regenerates. That’s going to be troublesome,” the woman said with a grim expression.
Her gaze flicked briefly toward Lucas. He lay half-conscious on the ground, blood trickling from his nose and mouth.
“There’s a low-level Gifted down there. He needs medical attention immediately.”
“He must have triggered the alarm,” the armored man replied, giving Lucas a quick glance. His face hardened into a dismissive scoff. “He’s still only level eleven. We can’t waste time on him right now. The monster is the priority.”
“But if we leave him like this, he could die.”
“No,” the man said sharply. “Not until reinforcements arrive. We hold the line here.”
The woman hesitated, clear conflict crossing her face, but she eventually nodded.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely reaching Lucas.
She turned back to the creature and resumed her assault, launching spell after spell to keep it pinned down, while Lucas lay bleeding on the cold street, caught somewhere between life and death.
