Thw air around Gauntlet arena smelled of old sweat, rust, and the metallic tang of spilled blood. It wasn't particularly a grand arena, just a beaten dirt circle surrounded by a crude wooden palisade.
For four long years, this place had been Alaric's living space.
He was the lowest of the low in the noble House Valerius.
At sixteen, he was the shame of the Valerian house, illegitimate son of the Viscount's heir, Lord Julian, and a servant girl. His mother had died just after his birth, and his father had vanished without a trace years ago, leaving him utterly alone. It was as though the man cared well for him.
Every day, the knights and young nobles of the house used him to practice their talents and techniques, to vent their frustrations, to feel the satisfying crunch of a fist or the flat of a blade against a real, living body.
Worse than his bastard birth, however, was his greatest sin.
At the age of twelve, when every child stood before the Awakening Hall to receive their System and Talent, Alaric had received nothing.
The System, the very foundation of power in the world, had deemed him unworthy!
It wa San utter disgrace especially from a Viscount's family!
"Bam!"
A heavy boot suddenly slammed into his ribs, driving the air from his lungs in a pained gasp.
"Get up, bastard!" a voice snarled.
Alaric managed to push himself up, mud and blood covering his tattered tunic. His body relaxed sharp bursts of pain as it screamed in protest. He'd already endured hours of "training" today, and his stamina was gone.
Managing to raise his head up, he saw who it was.
Before him stood Caius Valerius, his talented and prideful cousin. A faint, hard light shimmered around his knuckles—the sign of his E-Rank Talent, "Reinforced Fists."
"Still conscious?" Caius sneered, a cruel smirk twisting his lips. He enjoyed this. The other young nobles watching from the side laughed along with him. "You're tougher than you look, for a waste of space."
Alaric didn't spare them a single glance. There was no point. Any word would just earn him another blow.
Caius took his silence as defiance. "Don't you dare look at me like that!"
He suddenly moved. His fist, glowing with the energy of his Talent, crashed into Alaric's jaw.
"Bang!"
The world exploded in a flash of white-hot pain.
Caius wasn't finished. He grabbed Alaric by the hair, his face full of disdain as he glanced down at him. "My father says I'm not training hard enough. That I rely too much on my Talent. Well, practicing on you is the perfect solution, isn't it?"
"Bang!"
Another punch drove into Alaric's stomach. Then another. And another. He felt his ribs crack under the assault. The jeers of the crowd faded into a dull roar in his ears. He was a punching bag, a thing to be broken for the amusement of his betters. It was a truth he had been forced to accept every day for the last four years.
"Pathetic," Caius spat, his chest heaving from the exertion. He kicked Alaric one last time, a solid, final thud that sent a wave of agony through his already broken body. "Guards! Toss the trash back into the cell, I'm done with it for today."
Two guards, their faces impassive, dragged Alaric's limp body away. They handled him like a sack of used garbage, his feet dragging through the mud as they created a trial in the ground.
They opened a heavy iron door set into the ground and tossed him down. Then closed the door and immediately left.
The cold of the stone floor seeped into his bones, as his breathing turned shallow.
Sensing what was coming, Alaric's lips curled slightly into a soft smile. 'This was it uhn?'
He thought of his mother. He had no memories of her, only the stories told by a few of the older servants who pitied him. They said she was kind, with a smile that could warm the coldest stone.
Before she died, she had placed a single item around his neck: a simple, pendant of polished unknown stone, smooth and cool to the touch.
As his life force slipped away, a strange warmth spread from his chest. It was a gentle heat, very different to the dungeon's bitter cold.
He weakly lifted a hand to his neck. The pendant was glowing.
It started as a faint, internal pulse, but quickly grew into an intense, golden light that filled the small cell.
The warmth became a searing fire, pouring into his body like a tidal wave. Cracks, like golden lightning, spread across the surface of the obsidian.
A voice, mechanical yet resonant, echoed not in the cell, but directly inside his mind.
[Host Vital Signs Critical. Life Force Nearing Zero.]
[Suppressor Protocol Terminated. Final Integration Stage Complete.]
The pendant, its purpose fulfilled after four long years of suppressing and upgrading his true potential, shattered into a million motes of golden light. The energy that burst forth was blinding, a raw and overwhelming power that surged through every cell of his being.
[Upgraded Talent Integration Initiated... 10%... 40%... 80%... 100%.]
[Integration Successful.]
In front of his fading vision, a translucent blue screen flickered to life. It was a sight he had dreamed of, a sight he had been denied, a sight that had been the source of all his suffering. It was the System.
A single, stunning notification was displayed in its center, the characters glowing radiantly
[Congratulations! You have awakened SSS-Rank Talent!]