Far above, in a realm where man's comprehension has yet to reach, beings were seated around a mega table, discussing the fate of Earth. Of course, man had no way of knowing this.
"Mörïk, œvīl §hąërëþ űnīzh—
Vīlīn öřæ, næmīžh 'Hærəþ'."
(Meaning: "It seems a new planet has been discovered, I learnt its name was Earth.")One of the beings seated around the table said, in a voice that would rattle the bones of any human if they heard it.
"Zhæ süm řäplön hə? Şhü lə ös zhö ös plön, şü hə mönü shü plön? Vöshä şü hə mönü zhü shü plön lə řö ös şü mönü? Vöshä zhü lə ös zhæ ös plön, şü zhü ös mönü zħä? Zhæ vöshä lə nüm, şü zhü ös mönü lə řö zhü IAT?"
(Meaning: "Is this information a joke? They don't have any of the dominant genes that distinguish planets, they only rely on machines for everything. They even get to places by sitting comfortably in a slow machine? Just how lazy can they be? If this information is true, then they are by far the weakest life forms yet. How would they survive in the interplanetary Awakened Tournament then (IAT)?") Another spoke in a deep tone of disappointment.
"Vœl möræl žhün šær? Hær œv §hüv vīl næmör—
Vīl kæþ nïk mæšvœl, Ÿm §hël 'ţæl' vīl?
Hærīn, vœl næmör: Šær '7' žhūk §hæl,
Vīl '1' mör Tūţœr hær vœl. Îæþ, vīl mör?"
(Meaning: "I say, let's send a few elites, about twenty to wipe them out. We'll be saving those pathetic beings from what is yet to befall them.") Another suggested.
"Lə zhæ šhəl řæ? Lə ōvəl şhəl ælīt, řä ōvəl zhə zħä hə mənü. şhəl lə ōvəl zhə zħä hə mənü ōvəl şhəl lə řæ zhə zħä"
(Meaning: "Why rush to kill? Grant them doubt's mercy—
Did we not forge the system to help the weak?
Hear me, kin: Send seven elites,
For one Trial-day. Then, we judge. If even a hundred of them survive, we will consider them.") Another suggested in a soft voice.
"Vīl nïk œv möræl, žhün vœl šærīn. Hærīn-rīk, vīlīn Tūţœr žhölīn mæšvœl."
(Meaning: "I see no purpose, but do as you will. With this agreement, the Trial-system is activated.")
******
Meanwhile;
A boy knelt in the middle of the classroom, hands raised above his shoulders like a prisoner waiting for judgment. His knees pressed against the cold, dusty tiles, and his thin body trembled—not from fear, but from exhaustion. He was used to this. Too used to it.
The strong ones in the class always found a reason to beat him down. It didn't matter what he said or did—his very existence seemed to offend them. Every day was a battlefield, and Zane had long since stopped expecting rescue.
How could he expect any rescue or even complain? Everything happening to him had been meticulously planned by him. From being kicked out of the house to being bullied at school, everything was just as he planned it to be. He wasn't strong, neither was he fast enough to win in any fight, but there were a thousand more ways he could get rid of those bullies if he tried.
He had once carried a different name, tied to a powerful bloodline. The second son of the President of the United States. After he was kicked out due to trying to kill his twin brothers, he changed his name from Zane Walker, to Zane Handsome. Not that anyone cared to notice.
With nowhere to go and no one to turn to, Zane disappeared into the slums, burying his name, his past, and everything he once was.
He enrolled in a run-down school, the kind where dreams went to die. To survive, he took up part-time jobs—washing dishes, lifting boxes, anything to earn enough to eat and keep going. He studied late into the night, pushing himself through exhaustion. But no matter how far he ran or how hard he tried, the world always found a way to knock him lower. That was what he truly loved about the world. If the world wasn't this cruel, it wouldn't be interesting enough to live in.
A sharp kick came out of nowhere, slamming into his gut like a hammer. He flew back and hit the wall with a hard crack. Pain exploded in his ribs. The breath rushed out of his lungs, and for a second, everything spun.
He curled up slightly, hand clutched around his stomach as he struggled to breathe. His vision blurred, but the voice that followed was crystal clear.
"This bastard," Mario spat, stomping closer. "Who said you could lie down?"
Zane gasped, forcing himself upright with one shaking hand, the other still cradling his ribs. "I'm… sorry…" he whispered, barely audible. His voice was weak, but not broken.
'Patience Zane, after today, everything will fall in place, then you can finally carry out your plan, the plan of screwing over your father.' Zane thought as he smiled slightly.
The classroom was dead silent—except for the sound of quiet chuckles.
None of the other students moved or said a word. They just watched. Some leaned against the walls, arms folded, like they were at a show. A few girls giggled behind their hands. One boy took out his phone, probably recording the whole thing. Faces blurred together—cold, curious, amused.
No one looked concerned. Just entertained.
To them, Zane wasn't a classmate.
He was just an entertainment.
'Arh, I love this class so much. Unless the world comes to an end today, everything will go according to plan.' Zane thought.
Just as Mario pulled his leg back for another kick, the sharp ring of the school bell echoed through the classroom like a siren.
"Tch. Can't believe how lucky you are," Mario muttered, glaring down at Zane with disgust. "We'll continue this later."
He gave Zane a final shove with his foot before turning around and heading back to his seat like nothing happened. The rest of the class followed suit, some laughing under their breath, others acting like they hadn't seen a thing. Chairs scraped across the floor. Books opened. The teacher would be here any second, and suddenly everyone remembered how to act normal.
Zane stayed on the floor for a moment longer, coughing hard into his sleeve.
'This familiar pain, I'm going to miss it.'
The sharp pain in his side made his eyes water, but he forced himself to his feet, slowly and quietly, with a smile no one noticed. He didn't want to draw more attention than he already had. Each step back to his desk felt heavier than the last.
He sat down in silence, still catching his breath, as the English teacher walked in and began the lesson like nothing was wrong.
'Well, well look who we have here, the bitch who has been spending the money meant for me. People really are interesting. Aren't they?' He thought, looking at the teacher in amusement.
Mario glanced at Zane from across the room, his jaw tight, his expression twisted with something more than hate—frustration. No matter how many times he beat on him, no matter how many insults he threw, Zane never broke. He didn't cry. He didn't snap. He was just a teenager like him, so how could he have that much willpower? It made Mario furious.
How could someone so pathetic still look calm after all that?
But what Mario didn't know was simple: he was nothing compared to the hell Zane had already lived through.
In this classroom, Zane got beat up. In his house? They tried to kill him.
His family didn't just ignore him—they treated him like a mistake that needed to disappear. His father had cast him out without a second thought. Others had tried worse. Poison was just one of the many things Zane had learned to survive. He'd been poisoned so many times that his body had developed a resistance.
So no, Mario could never break his spirit. He wasn't even close.
There were nights Zane had stared at the ceiling, wondering if it would be easier to just end it. To let go and be done with it all. But he never followed through. Not because life was kind to him—but because someone still cared for him.
Ariel.
His little sister.
She was the only one in that entire godforsaken family who had never turned her back on him. Even now, she kept finding ways to help him—small, quiet things he often didn't even notice until much later. A stash of food in his bag. Sending thousands of dollars to his English teacher to support him. She knew he wouldn't accept it if she sent it to him directly, but little did she know that the money reached Zane.
She was the reason he was still breathing.
And that was enough.
For now.
"That's all for today," the teacher said before walking out of the classroom without sparing Zane a single glance.
As usual.
The door closed behind her with a quiet click, and the room buzzed back to life with chatter and noise. Zane sat still, eyes on his desk. It wasn't just the students who treated him like a ghost—the teachers ignored him too. No matter how often he scored first place. No one cared.
He blinked as his old, cracked phone buzzed on the table. A soft smile tugged at his lips when he saw the name on the screen.
[Little Angel]
"Dad blocked my account, so I won't be able to send you money for a while. Don't slack off on your studies, and don't forget about me! Also, remember your promise—not a single fight, okay?"
Zane chuckled quietly, the tension in his shoulders easing for just a second. His sister always knew what to say. Her messages were like little sparks of light in a dark cave.
'She keeps sending me money even though she knows I'll never use it.' Zane smiled as he thought.
But peace never lasted long in his world.
SLAM!
A loud thud shook his desk, snapping him out of the moment. Mario had dropped his notebook hard against Zane's table. The sound echoed through the room like a warning shot.
Then came another. And another.
More books landed beside his hand, one after the other—thick, heavy, filled with blank assignments. The usual suspects: Mario, Darren, Leon… even a few girls who used to pretend to like him, only to laugh behind his back. They all stood around his desk like vultures circling a dying animal.
Zane didn't need to ask. He already knew what they wanted.
Every time the teachers gave them homework, they brought it to him. He had to do it all—each one with different answers, different writing styles, different tones. He'd even memorized their handwriting. If he made a mistake, they'd make him pay for it. Last time, his arm had been bruised for a week.
'Are we doing this again? So annoying. I will pay each and every single one of you back with lots of interest. I never forget about those who I'm indebted to, neither do I forget about my grudges.' Zane sighed as he thought.
The room was filled with laughter, casual conversations, the tapping of shoes against the floor—but no one looked at him. It was like watching a performance that had played a hundred times before, and everyone knew their roles. But it was fine, because that was just how he planned it to be.
Zane stared down at the pile of notebooks, his fingers twitching,
He had part-time jobs lined up after school, and now this?
He glanced at the message again and clenched his fists under the desk. Don't fight. Don't break. Just survive a little longer.
He didn't have strength, money, or power.
But what he had was something they didn't.
Patience.
And one day... when the world finally gave him a chance, they would all remember the name they'd tried so hard to bury.
"Hey, trash," Mario called out, strutting over like he owned the room. "I'm going on a date after school. How do I look?"
He struck a silly pose, brushing imaginary dust off his shoulders.
"Oh, wait… that's right. You don't even know what a date is!" he laughed, and his little gang howled with laughter behind him.
Zane didn't respond. He kept his head down, pretending to look through his bag.
Mario's smile vanished.
"I just cracked a joke, Zane. Why aren't you laughing?" he asked, voice tight with irritation.
"I'm sorr—" Zane began, trying to force a smile.
WHAM!
A hard punch slammed into the side of his face, cutting his words short. His body flew sideways, crashing into a nearby desk. The metal screeched as it scraped the floor, and Zane's shoulder hit the edge hard.
He winced, hand clutching his jaw. His vision blurred for a moment, the taste of iron rising in his mouth. A few students snickered. Some just glanced and looked away. It was just another day.
Mario stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. "I don't know why, but every time I see your shitty face, I get this itch to punch it."
'Punch it as much as you like Mario, or what I'm about to do to you wouldn't be as exciting.'
Zane coughed, slowly trying to sit up. His knees trembled, but he pushed himself upright, one shaky hand braced on the desk.
Mario raised his fist again.
But before he could strike—
BOOOOOOOM.
The world shook.
Everything stopped.
The lights flickered. The windows rattled. The ground itself hummed beneath their feet. Then, from the air above—as if the sky itself had a voice—a sound echoed across the planet. Cold. Robotic.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
Attention: All Players.
A critical system error has been detected.
Your ability trees are currently under revision.
Tutorial stage has been extended to 14 days.
Difficulty: [EXTREME]
Reward multiplier: 3x
Survival is now your top priority.
I wish you good luck.
Let the game begin.
"What the fuck, the world is truly ending, but why today of all days?" Zane said in a whisper.