'F-Rank. F-Rank. F-Rank. Why the fuck did it have to be F-Rank?'
I muttered curses under my breath as I took another shot of whatever cheap liquor the bartender had served me. Why F-Rank? Why couldn't I be even a little stronger? It was a question I'd asked myself thousands of times.
"Dammit! I don't deserve this shit!"
I slammed the shot glass back down and sighed.
Oops. It looks like I said that a little too loud. I was getting nasty looks from the guys on either side of me. The bartender was giving me a look, too. One that said 'time to go, pal.'
Well, fine. I was too broke to get any more boozed up, anyway.
"Yeah, yeah, alright."
I slipped a couple of slim, silver chips out of my wallet and roughly pushed them under the glass, made my way off the stool, and started to stumble my way out of the bar. Fuck. I didn't realize how drunk I was until I stood up from my seat. My vision was a little blurry and doubled, like I'd just been hit in the head.
I managed to make it outside, at least, but damn, I felt like shit. I took a deep breath. Ugh. Even with the Sanctuary purifying the air, this city still smelled terrible. My stomach was turning over.
I threw up a little inside my mouth, spitting on the ground and smacking my lips with a frown on my face as I wiped them with my sleeve.
I pulled a slightly crushed pack of cigarettes out of my pocket and lit one up. The flavor of the tobacco would at least cover up the sour taste of bile.
And then, I started to make my way home. This wasn't an unusual occurrence for me. Getting wasted on a weekday, I mean. What the hell else was there to do? I was the lowest of the low, an F-Rank mercenary without a single fucking useful skill.
I was living in a world on the brink of destruction, so what was so wrong with destroying myself a little? Well, I barely enjoyed getting drunk anymore. Instead of alleviating my problems, being inebriated caused me to think about them even more. It was just a bad habit at this point.
'Fuck, am I becoming an alcoholic?'
I lamented to myself. Dammit. I already had too much to stress over. I didn't have time to worry about my drinking.
'It's nice and quiet tonight, though.'
My walk was shockingly peaceful. Normally, there would still be a few people getting off their closing shifts walking around. Shit, how late was it? I must've been out longer than I thought.
Well, who cares? I'll just enjoy the silence while it lasts. It was a good atmosphere for brooding.
'Seven years…'
I still couldn't believe it. Just last week, we passed the seventh anniversary for the arrival of The Gloam, and the calamity it brought with it. I'd changed a lot since then. Not for the better, of course.
Damn, I used to be so passionate. I thought about the time when I'd gotten up in the face of the squadron leader and demanded to be brought into the dungeon, and made a big speech about how my determination was greater than my rank. Haa, what an idiot I was.
I almost died that time. Although, to be fair, I still had brushes with death on a regular basis. After all,
'Status.'
A rectangular object the size of a playing card manifested in my hand.
[Name: Mason Ford]
[Rank: F]
[Skills:]
[Communion- F: 'Pray! Pray as hard as you can! Maybe someone will hear you…' Allows the caster to call out to other planes of existence. However, the caster's voice will likely be drowned out by those of many others. Originally a discarded skill, the Human God decided to toss it to a random kid who he forgot to give a skill to.]
No matter how many times I looked it over, it never changed. Of course it wouldn't. Once you awakened, that was it. I knew that. But I desperately wanted something more. I wasn't even asking for a lot- just a single combat skill. Just one. Just something to make my life even a little easier.
But, of course, it never came. I was stuck at F-Rank, with one useless F-Rank skill. Even the description was embarrassing.
'You shitty god. You think I want some skill you decided to throw at me out of pity? I'd rather have nothing at all, you bastard.'
I dispersed my status card and scoffed. I'd managed to make my way without any skills, so why the hell would I want this one? It wasn't like I hadn't tried to use it, but I just couldn't figure out the activation method. I'd tried praying, begging, and even performing old religious rites, but nothing worked. It never had any effect.
So, instead of trying to make some ambiguous F-Rank skill work, I'd just trained myself in using mana. I worked harder than anyone. Well, at least anyone that I knew.
Tirelessly, day and night, losing sleep and driving myself crazy, I tried to control what little power I had to the best of my ability. And then, after just a year, I hit a block. No matter what I did, I couldn't use my power any more efficiently. I'd reached my limit. I'd kept trying to get better, stronger, more efficient for years, but nothing changed. And then, I started to grow bitter.
Now, here I was. Standing in front of my shitty, run-down apartment building, drunk out of my mind, without any money, friends, or family. Haha… dammit. I was fucking pathetic.
My feet tripped over themselves as I hobbled up the stairs, digging through my pockets for my keys. It took me a couple tries, but I managed to slip them into the lock and get my door open. After locking the door behind me, I slipped my shirt off and collapsed face-first onto my couch.
What happened to my ambitions? I thought if I worked hard, I could overcome the limitations of my rank. That I could fight alongside others, and help save people. I thought I could be a hero. Instead, I was nobody. When others killed ten monsters, I killed one.
When others used flashy skills and expensive weapons, I used a single old knife and pure mana to slowly dispatch enemies, struggling and looking like a wretched loser.
I didn't care in the past. But over the last few years, with money problems on top of everything, my dreams being crushed had taken a dark toll on me. I titled my head. There, sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch, was an envelope.
I'd received it this morning, but I was too scared to open it. My hand reached up, hesitating for a second, before gently picking it up. I flipped over on my back and stared at it, my eyes glistening lightly, my fingers trembling slightly as I pinched the letter gently.
This was it. My last chance.
I'd applied to every official mercenary company in the city, including the new ones as they'd popped up, and was rejected by each of them. This was the last letter I'd be receiving. I already knew what the answer would be, but part of me still had hope.
'Even if I'm not strong, I'm still resourceful. I still have experience, right? So, maybe..?'
Fuck, this reminded me of trying to find a job out of college. Everywhere required way too much for an entry level position. Of course, with this job, experience was less important than god-given power.
Still, if I couldn't join a single company, I really would be fucked. Going solo for two years was already beyond pushing it, especially with my strength. It was shocking that I hadn't died yet. I could feel it, deep inside my heart.
'If I keep going like this, I'm going to get killed.'
Every day, that feeling got stronger. And now, this was it. The climax. It was like driving an old car, and suddenly feeling that it's going to break down any moment. I could tell that if I couldn't find anyone to work with, it would be the end of my life. But what could I do? I couldn't stop hunting. It was all I had. So I would just die like a dog in a dank dungeon? Fuck, the thought was depressing.
I mustered up the last of my hope. This was really it. I carefully slipped my finger under the corner of the envelope's fold, tearing it along the crease. Pulling out the folded paper inside, my chest got heavy and my throat dried up. Sweat beaded across my forehead. I unfolded it slowly, sitting up. I could feel my senses returning from the adrenaline as I sobered up a little.
Soon, the text came into view.
"...Mr. Ford…"
"...careful consideration…"
"...involved risk…"
Lots of jargon. I had read many letters like this before. I skipped over to the end.
"We have regretfully decided to deny your application. We wish you luck in your future endeavors, and thank you for considering joining our team."
Well. It was nothing I hadn't expected. Of course they'd reject me, it's not like I was even an average combatant. I sighed.
'Well, I almost feel relieved. The anticipation was getting to me, ha ha.'
Yeah, it was a relief. The search was over. I'd gotten my answers, it was fine.
'Huh? What's this?'
There were droplets of something falling on the paper.
'Is there a leak again? That damn landlord.'
I looked up. The ceiling was dry.
'Huh, no leak. Then where did…'
I looked down. More droplets were falling on the paper. My hands were trembling.
'Hey, what…'
My vision was clouded. Fuck. I could feel them now. They were tears.
'Why are there tears? I'm not sad, though?'
The tears only got bigger as they fell on the letter, the characters on the paper becoming obscured word by word.
I let out a small sob.
'I'm not sad! I'm not…'
It grew into several louder sobs.
'Seriously!'
And then, I started bawling. Fuck, seriously. I started crying my eyes out like a kid. I balled my fist and pressed it into my eyes as I howled into the darkness of my lonely apartment.
"Fuck!"
I shouted out loud.
"I just wanted to be strong! I just wanted to help!"
There were so many people who I'd let down.
"Please!"
I wailed, louder than I should have in the middle of the night.
"Please, anyone! Please… help me!"
I was starting to throw a tantrum. I crumpled up the letter and threw it as hard as I could at the wall.
"Please! Please! I'm begging! Someone! Fucking! Help! Me!"
I stood up and walked over to the same wall, hitting my head into it. I could hear stirring next door. I must have woken my neighbor, but I didn't care.
"I'm sick of this! I'm fucking tired of it! I worked so hard! I did everything I could! Why Is my life like this then, huh?! It's not fair!"
I collapsed to my knees, my fists pressing against the wall.
"It's not fair… just please… help."
[Communion- F has been activated.]
"Help."
[Your voice is being projected out into other planes!]
"Help me!"
[Your voice is being projected out into other planes!]
I stood up. I stared up into my ceiling, my eyes widening with anger.
"I said to fucking help me, you bastard!"
[Your voice has been heard! Source- Creation's Cradle. Connecting you with the receiver. Receiver located. Identifying… Identified.]
While I'd been venting my feelings, I hadn't even noticed the comparably quiet voice in my head telling me that my skill had been activated.
[The Architect has answered your call.]
'…What?'
And then, reality warped around me.