The rain poured down in heavy sheets, turning the dirt beneath Delmo's feet into thick mud as he stumbled through the remains of his village. Ashes from burnt huts mixed with the damp earth, and the air was thick with the scent of wet smoke and blood. His legs ached, but he couldn't stop moving. He didn't want to look back. He had been like this for what felt like days.
He had survived, though he didn't know how. Everyone else was left behind—his mother, his father, even the old blacksmith who had taught him how to swing a sword. By that point, they had probably all fallen to the marauders who swept through their peaceful village without warning.
Delmo's chest tightened, his heart a dull thud in his ears. He reached the edge of the village, where a massive oak tree stood like a silent sentinel. Its gnarled branches spread outward like twisted arms, offering no comfort, but at least it provided shelter. He collapsed beneath it, his body trembling from exhaustion, pain, and the cold bite of the rain.
As the thunder rumbled in the distance, Delmo's vision blurred. He wasn't sure if it was from tears or the overwhelming fatigue, but just as his eyes began to close, he heard something—an echo, faint at first, but growing louder.
"Delmo…"
His eyes snapped open, and he shot to his feet. His heart pounded. He glanced around wildly, but there was no one. The only sound was the falling rain and the distant crackle of what was left of his burning village.
Then the voice came again, this time clearer and more forceful, as though it were both inside his mind and all around him.
"You have been chosen."
Delmo stumbled backward, his back hitting the rough bark of the oak tree. The world began to shimmer, and suddenly, everything seemed to freeze. The rain stopped in mid-air, droplets hanging motionless, suspended by some unseen force. The distant flames were locked in place, like a painting trapped between moments.
Before him, a glowing figure of light materialized. It had no discernible form, but its presence was powerful, overwhelming.
"The Supreme Skill Synthesis System has been bound to your soul."
Delmo blinked, confusion mixing with fear. The what? He didn't understand. Was this some kind of cruel trick by the gods?
Before he could even think to respond, a translucent screen appeared in front of him, hanging in the air like a magical apparition.
System Activation Complete
User: Delmo Supreme Skill Synthesis System Level 1
Abilities Available: - Basic Swordsmanship (Lv.1) - Wood Elemental Manipulation (Lv.1)
Merge Option Available: Synthesize Basic Swordsmanship + Wood Elemental Manipulation?
Delmo's head swam with questions. He had no idea what any of this meant, but something inside him stirred. He had heard stories of heroes in ancient myths who were chosen by divine powers to save kingdoms or avenge the gods. Could this be his chance? Was this what those stories had spoken of?
Trembling, he reached out and selected the synthesis option. A strange warmth coursed through his body, and for a brief moment, his entire being seemed to pulse with energy.
Synthesis Complete: Sword of Verdant Fury (Lv.1)
A weapon appeared before him. It looked simple at first—just a wooden sword, rough and unrefined. But as Delmo grasped it, he felt the deep hum of power within it. The wood was alive, pulsing with energy drawn from the ancient oak that stood behind him. The sword seemed to sing in his hand, a soft, melodic tone that resonated with his very soul.
Knowledge flowed into his mind—techniques, movements, and skills he had never learned, yet somehow understood. This was not ordinary swordsmanship, nor was it simple manipulation of nature. The Sword of Verdant Fury was a fusion of both, combining the raw, primal force of wood with the sharp precision of the sword.
The System's voice echoed once more, this time colder, more ominous.
"Beware, Delmo. The world will seek to destroy you before it accepts you."
His heart thudded in his chest. He barely had time to comprehend the meaning of the words before the ground trembled beneath his feet. From the shadows of the trees, five figures emerged—mercenaries. They wore dark armor and moved with the confidence of killers, their eyes glinting with greed as they spotted Delmo.
"Looks like a boy survived," one of them sneered, his hand resting on the hilt of a bloodied sword. "Should've known. Let's finish the job."
Delmo's mind raced. He wasn't a fighter. He had never killed anyone. But something in him had changed. The System pulsed within him, and the sword in his hand seemed to vibrate with life.
Quest Received: Defeat the Marauders. Reward: Experience Points, Skill Synthesis Opportunity.
The lead mercenary charged at him, sword raised high. Delmo's body moved almost on its own, reacting with a speed and grace he had never possessed. He parried the strike with his new sword, the blade glowing with green energy. As he countered, roots burst from the ground, snaking around the mercenary's legs, pulling him down. Darren moved again, his sword flashing through the air, cutting through armor and flesh in a single, fluid motion.
The fight was brutal, but brief. The fusion of swordsmanship and elemental power overwhelmed the unprepared mercenaries. The final one tried to flee, but Delmo was faster. His sword cut through the air, and a wave of energy followed, slicing through the man like a storm of green fire.
Panting, Delmo stood over the bodies of his enemies, the rain washing the blood into the earth.
The System's voice returned, soft but persistent.
"You have taken your first step. The journey has just begun."
Delmo knew then that his life had changed forever. The Supreme Skill Synthesis System was both a gift and a curse, and it was up to him to decide what he would do with it. He stared at the sword in his hand, the rain running down its glowing body.
He was no longer completely helpless.
He was something else.