Joon-woo stood at the construction site's edge, sword in hand, watching the world unravel. Minutes ago, this had been an ordinary city. Now, shimmering rifts dotted the skyline and monsters stalked confused citizens. The skies hung heavy with unnatural clouds, and distant screams told him chaos had taken root. He could taste tension in the air—sharp as metal.
A moment ago, he had saved a passerby from an imp with a single decisive strike. Now he stood poised at the crossroads of fate.
His newly revealed Class—Swordsman (Rare - Growth Type)—flashed in his mind. This was better than anything he'd expected.
Rare class, growth type: it meant his potential would scale as he fought and learned, evolving beyond simple measures. He was already armed with the Lesser Blade of Dawn, a blade that felt warm and responsive in his grip, and Skills like Quick Slash and Parry awaited his command. He was ready to carve his own path.
But he couldn't just stand here. More monsters were bound to appear. He stepped onto cracked pavement and advanced up the street. Panicked citizens ran in all directions, some shouting about strange screens that had appeared before their eyes, others too terrified to speak. A few seemed to be testing out their newfound Skills—he glimpsed one young woman holding her hands forward, conjuring tiny sparks of light. She gasped at the sight, as if not believing her own power.
Joon-woo moved swiftly, seeking another target. He didn't relish the idea of becoming a roaming hero, but ensuring this neighborhood's monsters were cleared would give him space to operate. Plus, combat meant experience—both in practice and, if the System allowed, maybe incremental growth of his Class. With a Growth-type Class, every victory might yield more than just safety; it could shape his future capabilities.
Ahead, the asphalt tore open in a sudden burst of force. Joon-woo sprang back, heart pounding. From the fresh hole in the ground emerged something larger than the imps or goblins he'd seen—a Rift Rat Fiend, a warped rodent nearly the size of a large dog. Its fur bristled with strange fungal growths and its eyes burned a fiery orange. It hissed, exposing rows of needle-like teeth. Behind it, two smaller imp-like creatures scrambled out, chattering with excitement.
He tightened his grip on the sword's hilt. His free hand adjusted position on the blade. Basic Sword Mastery guided his stance: left foot slightly forward, knees bent, blade angled for a swift counter. He recalled the Skill descriptions:
Quick Slash (Basic): A rapid, focused strike for sudden damage.Parry (Basic): A defensive maneuver that reduced impact and allowed immediate retaliation.
No more theory. Time to use them.
The Rat Fiend lunged first, surprisingly fast despite its bulk. Its claws raked the air, aiming for his midsection. He responded instantly, invoking Parry. A subtle shimmer sparked around his blade as he angled it to meet the creature's rushing limbs. Metal struck claw—he felt the impact reverberate in his arms. But the Skill dampened the blow, allowing him to twist the sword free and glide aside, unscathed.
As he sidestepped, one of the imp-like creatures darted in from his blind spot. He caught it in his peripheral vision—a flash of green skin and a crude dagger raised high. He pivoted on the ball of his foot, bringing the sword around in a tight arc. This time, he triggered Quick Slash. His blade cut through the air faster than any normal human stroke, leaving a faint trail of light. The imp froze mid-lunge, eyes wide, before its body crumpled to the ground, the dagger clattering uselessly.
A shrill cry behind him—he wheeled around just in time to see the second imp hurtling forward, mouth twisted in a hungry snarl. No time for a Skill; he relied on pure technique. He snapped the sword upward, catching the imp's crude club mid-swing. Sparks flew as wood hit metal, and he knocked the club aside. The imp staggered off-balance. Joon-woo capitalized immediately, driving his blade forward with a clean thrust to the creature's heart. The imp's body went limp, collapsing like a rag doll.
That left the Rat Fiend. It had circled around, wary now that its allies lay dead. It hissed, saliva dripping from its maw. He shifted position, blade low, breathing steady. The Fiend crouched and pounced, claws outstretched. Joon-woo stepped into the attack rather than away, a bold move. At the last instant, he angled his blade up. The beast impaled itself on the weapon's length. He grunted at the force—it almost knocked him down. But he held firm, knees bending slightly to absorb the impact. The Rat Fiend screeched, thrashing violently. He twisted the sword, feeling resistance give way as vital organs tore. The creature's screech ended in a wet gurgle, and its body slumped, sliding off his blade.
He stood there, breathing hard. Three monsters down, each dispatched with careful skill. He checked himself—no injuries, no blood but the monster's ichor staining the pavement. The Lesser Blade of Dawn felt lighter now, as if pleased.
Glancing around, he saw a group of onlookers watching from behind a parked car. A few wore stunned expressions. They had no idea how he moved so surely. Some had just discovered their Classes and had no training yet. He was ahead of them, a calm eye in this storm.
"Is it safe?" someone called out, voice trembling.
"For now," he replied curtly. He considered offering advice but decided against it. He had no duty to shepherd them through this nightmare. Each person would have to find their own path. Still, he wasn't cruel. "If you have a weapon now—whatever Skill you got—stick together, watch each other's backs. Don't go alone."
They nodded, desperate for any guidance. He turned and moved on. The city had become a patchwork of screams, eerie silence, and monstrous howls. He spotted another clash further down the street: a hulking boar-like creature chasing two men who waved their arms wildly. No, he told himself, don't get distracted. He had a plan—gather key items, grow stronger steadily. Running from crisis to crisis might slow him down.
Yet, he couldn't help noticing something else: with each fight, he'd gain experience. Growth-type classes often rewarded steady combat with hidden Stat boosts or Skill evolution. Was it worth stepping in to fight more now? Maybe. If he got a small Stat increase early on, that'd be invaluable.
A decision formed: he would pick his battles. Target easy kills that didn't risk serious injury. That boar creature looked tough, but he could handle it if careful. He jogged closer, watching from behind a shattered bus stop. The boar's hide was coarse and spiked. The men it chased scrambled behind a mailbox, panicking as the beast smashed it aside. This wasn't just heroism for heroism's sake—he wanted to test himself against a sturdier foe.
Sword in hand, he approached at an angle. The boar noticed him only at the last second, turning its tusked head and snorting. Its eyes burned with savage intensity. He advanced slowly. The boar pawed the ground, then charged, hooves striking sparks from broken asphalt.
He waited, blade held high. At the last instant, he sidestepped and brought the sword down in a harsh vertical slash along the boar's flank. The blade bit deep but didn't kill it. The creature howled in pain, turning to rush him again, blood slicking its fur.
He needed a second strike. The boar charged again—this time, he invoked Parry to soften the blow as its tusks collided with his sword. He absorbed the impact, teeth gritted, arms trembling from the force. The Skill's subtle glow took the edge off the collision, allowing him to pivot around the boar's side. Swiftly, he executed a Quick Slash across its neck. A flash of light, a spray of foul-smelling ichor, and the boar staggered, collapsed.
That felt harder than the previous fights. His arms ached. But he'd done it. The two men, freed from terror, stared at him in awe.
"Thank you!" one gasped, voice quivering.
He gave a curt nod, already stepping away. Time was precious. He prayed that the System would reward effort. He checked his Status mentally, hoping for a hint of growth:
Attributes unchanged. No immediate sign of advancement. Maybe it took more kills or a specific trigger. He shrugged inwardly. Patience. Growth-Type Classes often revealed hidden Skills or evolutions after certain thresholds—like defeating a boss monster or collecting special items. He would find those conditions eventually.
A wail echoed from a distant intersection. He tensed. More monsters. The entire city had become a battleground. He needed to secure more known artifacts before others wised up. He had a sword now—time to claim a healing herb or a rare seed from that park shrine he remembered. Secure early resources, grow steadily, and soon he'd be unstoppable compared to these clueless new Awakeners.
Lifting the Lesser Blade of Dawn to rest it on his shoulder, he took a steady breath. He had made his first cuts into the chaos—literally and figuratively. The apocalypse had only begun, and already he stood ahead of the pack, carving his path with calm determination.
"Let's move," he murmured, and set off down a side street, leaving stunned survivors and monster corpses behind, the city's new reality echoing in every footstep.