Chapter 1: The Broken Blade
The rain fell in sheets, turning the dirt road into a quagmire. Ryo trudged through the mud, his tattered cloak clinging to his scrawny frame. His boots, more holes than leather, squelched with every step. In his hand, he clutched a rusted sword, its edge so dull it could barely cut butter. At nineteen, Kael was nobody—born to a family of nobodies in a world that didn't care.
"Move it, runt!" A burly mercenary shoved past, nearly knocking Ryo into a ditch. The man's polished armor gleamed despite the storm, a stark contrast to Ryo's threadbare tunic. Behind the mercenary, a caravan of adventurers rolled toward the city of Varnholt, their wagons laden with spoils from the Rift—a glowing tear in the sky that spat out monsters and treasures in equal measure.
Ryo didn't bother responding. He'd learned long ago that words were as useless as his sword against those with power. The Rift had changed everything. Fifty years ago, it appeared, and with it came the System—a mysterious force that granted some people abilities, levels, and skills. Those chosen by the System became Awakened, heroes or tyrants who shaped the world. The rest, like Ryo, were left to scrape by in the shadows.
He wasn't Awakened. He wasn't anything. His father, a failed blacksmith, had died in a monster raid. His mother followed soon after, her body too frail to endure the grief. Ryo survived by scavenging, taking odd jobs, and avoiding trouble. But he dreamed of more. He dreamed of the Rift, of standing among the Awakened, of carving his name into the world.
"Stupid," he muttered, shaking his head. Dreams didn't fill bellies or fix broken blades.
Varnholt's gates loomed ahead, their iron spikes wreathed in mist. The guards barely glanced at Ryo as he slipped through, just another ragged figure in a city of thousands. The streets buzzed with activity—merchants hawking mana crystals, adventurers boasting of their latest kills, and street urchins darting through the crowd. Ryo's stomach growled, but his pockets were empty. He'd have to find work soon, or he'd be sleeping in an alley again.
He made his way to the Adventurer's Guild, a towering stone building adorned with carvings of dragons and swords. Inside, the air smelled of ale and sweat. Adventurers crowded the job board, their voices a chaotic hum. Ryo lingered at the edge, his eyes scanning the postings. Most were for high-level Awakened: Clear Dire Wolf Nest, Rank B or Retrieve Rift Crystal, Rank A. Nothing for a nobody like him.
"Oi, you there!" A gruff voice cut through the noise. Ryo turned to see a wiry man with a scar across his nose, leaning against the counter. He wore a leather vest and had a dagger strapped to his thigh. "You look desperate. Want a job?"
Ryo hesitated. The man's smirk didn't inspire trust, but desperation outweighed caution. "What's the job?"
"Porter," the man said. "My party's heading into the Rift tomorrow. Low-rank dungeon, nothing fancy. Carry our gear, stay out of the way. Pay's ten coppers."
Ten coppers wouldn't buy much, but it was better than nothing. Ryo nodded. "I'm in."
"Name's Gav. Meet us at the Rift Gate at dawn. Don't be late, or I'll find another mule." Gav turned back to his ale, dismissing Ryo with a wave.
Ryo left the guild, his mind racing. The Rift. He'd never been inside, but he'd heard the stories—monsters that could tear a man in half, traps that burned flesh to bone, and treasures that could make a pauper a king. For a moment, he imagined finding a mana crystal or a skill tome, something to awaken his own potential. Then reality crashed in. He was a porter, not a hero. His job was to carry bags, not slay beasts.
That night, he slept in a stable, the straw scratching his skin. He clutched his rusted sword, its weight a small comfort. As sleep took him, he dreamed of a voice—cold, mechanical, and impossibly clear.
System initializing… Candidate detected… Compatibility confirmed…
Dawn broke, gray and cold. Ryo stood at the Rift Gate, a massive stone arch engraved with runes that pulsed faintly. Gav's party was already there: three Awakened, each radiating confidence. Gav, the rogue, fiddled with his dagger. A broad-shouldered warrior named Tor hefted a warhammer, and a mage named Lysa adjusted her robes, her staff glowing softly. They barely acknowledged Kael, except to toss him a heavy pack.
"Keep up, porter," Tor grunted. "Fall behind, and we won't wait."
Ryo nodded, slinging the pack over his shoulder. The Rift Gate hummed as Lysa chanted, her words weaving mana into the runes. The air shimmered, and a portal opened—a swirling vortex of violet and black. Without hesitation, the party stepped through. Ryo followed, his heart pounding.
The world shifted. Colors bled into shadows, and the air grew thick, heavy with the scent of iron and decay. They stood in a cavern, its walls slick with moisture. Strange symbols glowed faintly on the stone, and in the distance, something skittered.
"Low-rank dungeon, my ass," Gav muttered, drawing his dagger. "Stay sharp."
Ryo's grip tightened on his sword, though he doubted it would do much. The party moved forward, their footsteps echoing. Tor took the lead, his hammer ready. Lysa's staff cast a soft light, revealing jagged stalactites overhead. Ryo stayed at the rear, struggling under the pack's weight.
They hadn't gone far when the skittering grew louder. From the shadows emerged a creature—half-spider, half-wolf, its eight legs tipped with claws. Its eyes glowed red, and venom dripped from its fangs.
"Riftspawn!" Tor roared, charging. His hammer smashed into the creature, sending it skittering back. Gav darted in, his dagger flashing, while Lysa unleashed a bolt of fire. The Riftspawn screeched, its body charred but still moving.
Ryo watched, frozen. This was what the Awakened did—fought, killed, survived. He was just a bystander, useless. But then the creature lunged, not at Tor or Gav, but at him. Time slowed. He raised his sword, knowing it was futile.
Then it happened.
A chime rang in his mind, sharp and clear. Words appeared before his eyes, glowing like the runes on the gate.
System activated. User: Ryo Aelren. Level 0. Class: None. Skill Unlocked: Survival Instinct.
His body moved before he could think. He ducked, the Riftspawn's claws grazing his shoulder. Pain flared, but he swung his sword, the rusted blade catching the creature's leg. It wasn't much, but it was enough to make the beast hesitate.
Tor's hammer finished the job, crushing the Riftspawn's skull. The party turned to Ryo, their expressions a mix of surprise and annoyance.
"Not bad, porter," Gav said, wiping blood from his dagger. "Didn't think you had it in you."
Ryo barely heard him. His mind was on the words still floating in his vision. System activated. He wasn't Awakened—not yet. But something had changed. For the first time in his life, he felt a spark of possibility.
As the party moved deeper into the dungeon, Kael followed, his rusted sword a little less heavy in his hand. The System had chosen him. And whatever lay ahead—monsters, treasures, or death—he would face it.
To be continued…
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