A light. That was all I saw, all I felt. Time had lost its meaning...
...
Class : None.... Level.. 1... Name : Aaron...
...
" Do you accept the invocation? "
What if I don't accept... ?
" Do you accept the invocation? "
Am I... dead?
" Do you accept the invocation? "
...
Why did I accept…? Why not refuse…?
What happens if I accept? What if I refuse? Think... What was the last image in my mind? The hospital. I remember how I got there. But I don't want to think about it. I must have died. That's the only explanation. Otherwise, why would I be here?
It doesn't matter anymore.
And what if I were still alive? The thought trembles in my mind, refusing to settle. The question never ends. The choice seems impossible. I wish I had answers, but I don't.
Maybe I don't even want them.
Death took me, pulling me into a world that never wanted me. Or maybe... I had never truly been alive. Maybe I never left that dark day. Maybe I had already died, long ago...
A miserable world. A world where my only hero was dead.
The rain had never stopped that day. I remember him coming home from the mine, exhaustion etched into his face. But with every story, he planted in me a dream—to be strong, to carve out a future for myself. He worked tirelessly, a bitter yet dignified miner who only wanted a better life for me.
Then, the accident.
When the news came, it felt like a piece of my soul had been ripped away. Not just my father. My hero. Gone. The day my world turned to darkness.
And hell began soon after.
And what happens when you have nothing left to lose?
Homeless. Tossed from one place to another.
No friends—they all moved on.
Only enemies, closing in from all sides.
Why not take a chance? What do I have to lose?
Maybe this place will be different. Maybe, here, I can finally find peace…
At least… I don't have them anymore.
The ones who mocked me.
But… do I even want answers?
Should I even look for them?
...
Humiliation....
"Aaron… You are not a hero. You're a nobody. And you'll be treated like a nobody. We order you to leave the Teranium Citadel."
Each word strikes like ice, freezing me in place.
My existence—nothing more than the dust left behind by the wind.
...
Small echoes of people around.
Rage boils inside me, an inferno that consumes me from within.
Yet outside, all I see are sneering faces. Mocking eyes. Laughter echoing from every direction. Whispers turn to knives, cutting deep.
"Useless."
"A failure."
"Why was he even invoked?"
"We're wasting time on him."
"Just finish him off."
"A stain on Teranium's dignity."
"Teach him—chase him out."
Their words fall like stones from a collapsing cliff, crushing me.
But what frustrates me most isn't their contempt—it's that they're here too.
Why?
Why can't I be relieved that I escaped my world?
Why can't I find peace here either?
I should have chosen death.
Maybe it would've been better if I had died.
Maybe my death would have been a release.
I wish I had never ended up in this place—this world full of falsehood and cruelty.
I have no place here.
No identity.
Nothing.
But I will carve out my own path.
Revenge. I will seek it. I will take it.
No.
He would roll in his grave if he would knew what he had created.
I will disappear.
Far, far away—where they will never find me.
But close enough that I will always be safe.
I will live simply.
I will savor peace.
I just want to be away from them.
Here, I can.
Here, I am free—no identity cards, no tracking, no crowded cities.
I can be alone.
I'm sorry… but I will never finish the books I started.
For here, in the silence of my solitude—
I will search for a purpose.
A purpose worthy of him.
...
"Alert! You have reached Level 10"
"Alert! Available Classes"
Paladin –
The resilience of giants in the smallest body.
Others find their strength behind you.
Assassin –
A shadow in the night, armed with knives.
Silence is your ally, death is your craft.
The Archer –
A lone warrior against an army.
A storm of arrows rains at your command.
Summoner –
One and many, everywhere and nowhere.
The elements are yours to wield, but not as magic, but as animals.
Necromencer –
The dead are your allies.
The dead will defend you.
Sorcerer –
Choose an element. Command it.
Attack or defend—the limits are yours to define.
Healer –
Light is your weapon, and wounds are fleeting.
When allies fall, you can bring them back—through their own suffering.
"Alert! You have selected Sorcerer! „
"Alert! Special Condition ACTIVATED! „
"Due to emotional turmoil, you are granted system protection"
"Decision. Main class : Sorcerer. „
„Decision. Hidden Power : Use of All Elements "
" Decision. Hidden class : Assassin "
" Class description "
Master of earth, water, air, and fire. There are no limits to what you can do. Your strength is tied to your mind, growing with intelligence, but do not forget... night is your friend too.
"Alert! You have received the skills at the beginning of the class"
" Skill – Shackle "
Conjure nature's grasp, and the branches will bind your enemies for 5 seconds. Max level difference 10 levels. 20 Mana
" Skill – Wind Dagger "
Conjure two razor-sharp daggers to deal damage, Damage depends on enemy stamina and armor. 30 Mana
" Skill – Fire Attack "
Conjure a fireball and launch it at the enemy, maximum distance 100 m. Ignores weak armor, lose effect on heavy armor. Ineffective on the demons. 30 Mana
" Skill – Water Vortex "
Summon a whirlpool around the enemy, inflicts damage on touch, and on command it tighten into a crushing cage. 30 mana
"Skill – Dagger Slash"
Enhance a dagger's sharpness for a single precise strike. 10 Mana
"Skill – Creation"
The ability to combine the creation of magical elements, using the four elements, limited only by your logic and skill.
"Skill – Inventory Space"
Storage space, limit : 4 times the body weight.
"Alert! Your growth will be determined by hunting.
"Alert! Bonus experience is granted based on the strength of your target.
That's when I understood.
I am not a nobody.
But the anger in me only grows.
Why now?
Why did I have to crawl through dust and blood just to discover this power?
Why wasn't it given to me from the beginning?
But then, as I lift my gaze—I understand.
I am on the verge of death.
Lying on the ground, my body refuses to move.
Victory is so close. I can taste it in the air.
And I have decided.
I will survive.
They won't.
The system has been my guardian, keeping me alive through the demon's army.
And now, I have met the senile old man—the one who will teach me more than I can imagine.
My goal?
To secure my peace.
And for that— The demon must die.
...
"So... you survived?" The old man's voice echoed through the silence, raspy yet laced with something unreadable.
"Yes, thanks for the help."
"Don't be sarcastic," he scoffed. "You needed this chapter to close."
I narrowed my eyes. "How do you know that?"
"It doesn't matter. Let's just say I have a very good sense of hearing."
"You never told me who you were…"
"It doesn't matter who I am, nor what my name is."
As he spoke, a book materialized in his weathered hands—a relic of a forgotten age. Its cover was tattered, stained with blackened splotches and creeping mold, as though time itself had tried to erase its existence. When I reached out and touched its hardened surface, a strange sensation crawled over my skin, like static tingling up my arm.
The parchment was crumbly and brittle, barely holding together. Some pages were fused—not by age, but by blood, dried and clotted over centuries. A heavy stench rose from it, burnt paper mixed with damp decay, a scent so thick it made me grit my teeth.
But still, I turned the first page. And then the second.
And I read.
"I have no choice but to follow the system... I want to kill the demon. I want to return home. There is too much left undone. But time moves differently here... Three years have passed in this world, yet only weeks have slipped by in my world…"
…
"I never thought I'd find myself in a place like this. But I am not alone—I have allies of flame and shadow, creatures that walk beside me in forms familiar, yet powerful beyond measure...
…
"Can I win? Do I truly have the strength? Right now, we have begun purging the caves in the Goblini region. The battle ahead is vast, uncertain..."
My breath hitched. This was his diary.
The hero from two thousand years ago.
This book—this artifact—was the greatest gift I had received in ten years of my life. A piece of history. A voice from the past, mirroring my own steps.
He had walked this path before me.
And now...
I am the hero.
And whether I wanted it or not, I would have to become one.
The old man's voice pulled me from my thoughts.
"I am not the hero," he murmured, "but I was once close to him. Then, our paths diverged."
His gaze lingered on me for a moment—something distant, almost mournful flickering behind his eyes—before he turned and disappeared into the cave in the blink of an eye.
I was left standing among the ruins.
Smoke, rubble, and the acrid scent of destruction filled the air. The Citadel was in ruins. I clenched my fists.
What now?
I had some understanding of the land through the scattered words of its people. This was Teranium, the mightiest of the four great kingdoms, and the now-ruined Citadel had been its capital. But now, the entire kingdom stood on the brink of chaos. Teranium, the oldest of them all.
The others—Sventium to the south, Kerken to the east, and Ocituras to the west—had been forged from alliances between smaller states a thousand years ago. But Teranium was different. It had always stood alone, its power unrivaled. Yet, despite its strength, the demon always came from here.
Never from the south. Never from the east. Never from the west.
Always from the north.
From Teranium.
As if this land itself was cursed. It had happened again and again throughout history. The Demon King's rise always began in Teranium, and when Teranium fell, the rest followed. That was the rule of the game. A kingdom bound by fate. A cycle of death and rebirth, unbroken for thousands of years.
Sventium. Kerken. Ocituras. Their names meant nothing to me. Kingdoms formed out of fear. United by necessity. But never equal to Teranium.
And yet… I didn't care about the politics. At least, not now.
Right now, I had only one purpose. To kill the demon.
And if history demanded that I step into the role of hero—
" Then so be it! " I scream from the top of my lungs.
The nearest town is Hextar—a bustling trade hub, known across the continent for its commerce. But more importantly, it is home to the greatest blacksmith alive.
The problem? Weapons aren't handed out for kind words, and I have nothing to trade, I don't even know what they use for currency... Which means before I leave, I need to search the ruins—for money, valuables, anything decent that could serve as currency
Anything at all…
...
Three days, and the ruins have nothing...
Charred stones crackle beneath my boots, breaking apart like brittle bones. The air is thick with the acrid scent of ashes and burnt flesh, and the wind carries the hollow echoes of a city that no longer exists.
I run my fingers over a fragment of a collapsed wall. The stone is cold, yet crumbles at my touch, as if time had devoured centuries of history in a single night.
Erased. Like a stain wiped clean. Like the sterile, ordinary floors back home, where I had spent my miserable days dreaming of escape.
Eventually, I give up.
…
The old man warned me—the journey to Hextar will take ten days.
He seems to know exactly where I'm going. What comes next. Me? I just keep moving forward. One step. Then another.
The old man trained me methodically, as if every movement was a lesson written in blood.
My hands are raw.
My fingers—numb.
Each strike in the air drains what little strength remains in my muscles. My breath is heavy, my body heat rising until sweat burns my skin, drying into a thin layer of salt. The ground is dry and unyielding, but each fall kicks up a cloud of dust, leaving behind a bitter taste in my mouth.
The scent of damp wood, moss, and campfire smoke clings to the air. The old man watches me, his tired but unshaken gaze fixed on my stance.
"One more time."
I bend down, fingers brushing over the goblin's fallen daggers. My palms burn as I tighten my grip. The old man shakes his head.
"Skill – Dagger slash "
"Too slow. Too weak."
His voice is calm. Unforgiving.
"If you fight like that in battle, you die."
And so it continues. Day after day.
Until the knives finally shatter beneath the weight of training.
"I'll make you new ones."
He carves them from the bones of Dante and Cain.
I don't know if he works like a madman or a genius, but I do know that when I hold them, something stirs in me. A bloom of something dark.
A smoldering rage.
Maybe... this is my way of taking revenge. Maybe this is my only path forward.
...
The old man has taught me how to kill, but not every enemy is worth fighting. Goblins? Nothing but fodder. Worthless, but useful for experience.
High-Orcs? I have to run like hell—fighting them is a death sentence.
Orc tribes? A risk. They're heavily fortified in caves, always with a shaman in their ranks—orc sorcerers, dangerous and unpredictable. But small wandering groups?
They are fresh off a raid, still carrying whatever valuables they stole. And their numbers? Three to five at most.
…Manageable…
With the old man's training... I should be able to take them down. I've learned how to manipulate the dagger, and also how to infuse the mana... 'Dagger Slash' works for a single strike, but I can activate it mentally—I don't have to say the command out loud.
But I'm still a beginner.
...
I've read more of the diary.
The Demon King will not attack immediately. Not yet. Instead, he will let people devour themselves. It's his way—his pattern after every victory.
Civilization will tear itself apart before he even raises his sword again.
That's the luxury of a ruler who never loses.
...
That's how long I've been here.
The old man says I am ready to leave. But on one condition.
"Train. Every day. No matter what."
"Go now. The next time we meet—"
"It will be for the last time."
His words burned into my mind, searing deeper than any wound. I felt them more than I heard them. And their echo... remained long after he disappeared into the shadows of the cave.
Without another word. Without a trace of hesitation. As if this was inevitable.
As if he already knew how this would end.
…
The question lingers in my mind. I have more questions than answers. But time moves forward. And the answers... Are waiting for me ahead…
"Who the hell are you?" I finally ask, the question burning on my tongue. But the old man is already gone—just like every answer I never got.
..............................................................
STATUS
Name : Aaron
Age : 20 years
Class : Sorcerer
Hidden-Class : Assasin
Level : 17
ST : 4 + 10... calculating... total 14
AG : 7 + 10 +6... calculating... total 23
IT : 12 +10 + 10... calculating... total 32
CN : 6 + 10... calculating... total 16
MEN : 7 + 10 + 1 ... calculating... total 18
Weapons: Dual Daggers – Cain and Dante
Ability: Vengeance's Bite " Forged from the remnants of past torment, Cain and Dante are not just weapons—they are the embodiment of pain, rage, and retribution. Every scar, every cruel laugh, every moment of helplessness has been etched into their very essence. The sins of the past have sharpened their edges, and now, they thirst for justice.
When wielded by the one who has suffered, these daggers sense the presence of malice. Those who commit evil before the user—those who revel in cruelty and destruction—will feel the weight of their own sins. Cain and Dante strike with righteous fury, dealing +50 additional damage.
With each cut, the echoes of past suffering are avenged. "