Aaron lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
The mattress was firmer than he was used to, and the blanket smelled faintly of lavender.
His glasses had slipped down his nose again, so he adjusted them with a sigh. The day's events churned in his mind, refusing to settle.
Summoned to another world.
Dragons.
Demons.
A class hidden inside him.
It all sounded ridiculous — like something straight out of one of the webnovels he used to read.
And yet, here he was, lying in a stone chamber lit by a single candle, his body still tingling from whatever that orb had done to him.
He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. His chest still felt strange, like a flicker of warmth was pulsing deep inside him.
He pushed his glasses up again and let out a shaky breath.
"This doesn't make sense," he muttered. But the logic of the situation didn't matter. It was real. It had to be.
Aaron swung his legs over the edge of the bed, the cool stone floor sending a shiver up his spine. He stared at his hands, flexing his fingers.
He didn't feel different — no sudden strength, no burst of energy. If he was supposed to have some special ability, it wasn't obvious.
A thought crept into his mind, half-formed and ridiculous. In those webnovels, the characters always had some sort of interface, right? A system or status screen.
He shook his head. "This is stupid," he mumbled. But the idea nagged at him. What if?
Feeling a little foolish, Aaron straightened his back and cleared his throat.
"Status," he said quietly.
Nothing happened.
He sighed, slumping forward. Of course, it wouldn't be that easy —
A faint chime echoed in the air. His heart skipped a beat as a translucent screen blinked into existence in front of him, its edges glowing faintly.
Aaron stared, his mouth dry.
The screen was simple, almost like something from an old RPG:
<Age: 18>
<Level: 1>
<Class: Arcane Devourer>
<Skills>
<Mana Manipulation (Basic): Control and shape mana in its raw form. >
Aaron's breath caught. "Arcane Devourer?" he whispered, the words unfamiliar yet heavy with meaning.
His eyes skimmed over the skills. Essence Absorb sounded ominous, but intriguing. The thought of taking energy from enemies sent a chill down his spine.
"Mana Manipulation… Devourer's Glimpse…" He said the names aloud, testing how they felt on his tongue. They weren't flashy, but there was something about them — something dangerous.
The title Arcane Devourer loomed at the top, bold and unyielding. It wasn't a class he'd ever heard of in any game or story. It felt personal, almost too much so.
Aaron leaned back, the glow of the screen reflecting off his glasses.
His heart was pounding, but not with fear. For the first time in as long as he could remember, a spark of excitement stirred inside him.
He wasn't invisible anymore.
He wasn't just the quiet kid in the back of the room. This was something bigger — something no someone that might actually matter.
But with that thought came another, colder one.
"What does it mean to devour?" he asked aloud.
The screen didn't answer.
Aaron reached out, hesitating before brushing his fingers against the screen. It rippled like water, then blinked out of existence.
He was alone again, the room silent except for the faint crackle of the candle.
The excitement drained from him, leaving a dull ache in its place. Whatever this new power was, it wasn't enough. Not yet.
His body felt heavy as he lay back down, staring at the stone ceiling. Exhaustion tugged at him, pulling him toward sleep.
"Tomorrow," he muttered, his voice barely audible. "I'll figure it out tomorrow."
The warmth in his chest flickered one last time before fading entirely.
A soft knock woke him the next morning.
Aaron blinked, disoriented. For a second, he thought he was back home, the sound of his mom calling him for school lingering in his mind.
But the cold air and the unfamiliar room snapped him back to reality.
"Sir Aaron?" a voice called from the other side of the door.
Aaron sat up quickly, adjusting his glasses. "Uh, yeah? Who is it?"
The door creaked open, and a young woman stepped inside. She was wearing a simple black and white uniform, her hair tied back in a neat braid. Her expression was calm but polite.
"I'm Clara," she said with a small bow. "I've been assigned to assist you and the other guests during your stay."
"Assist?" Aaron asked, his voice still groggy.
"Yes, sir." Clara stepped closer, her hands folded in front of her. "I've been instructed to help with anything you need — within reason, of course. I've also been asked to bring you to breakfast once you're ready."
"Breakfast," Aaron repeated dumbly.
Clara smiled faintly, though there was a hint of pity in her eyes. "Yes, sir. It's served in the main hall."
Aaron rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. "Right. Uh, thanks. Just give me a minute."
"Of course." Clara bowed again and stepped back toward the door. "I'll be waiting outside when you're ready."
When she was gone, Aaron let out a long breath. The strangeness of the situation was starting to sink in again. A maid? A main hall? It was all so… unreal.
He stood up, adjusting his glasses as he stretched. The tension in his muscles reminded him of how little he'd slept.
"Well all that doesn't matter, does it?" He muttered.