In this new world, strength was no longer measured by brute force alone. Those who survived, thrived, and rose above others had one thing in common: a Status Screen. It was the invisible mark of potential, a window into the true power that lay dormant within every being.
Every awakening came with a vision—a screen only the individual could see. It displayed the essentials of existence: name, age, potential rank, class, traits, skills, and the latent abilities unique to the soul. Some people awakened to extraordinary prowess at a glance; others struggled, forced to cultivate their skills through hardship. The screen did not lie. It was both a blessing and a burden.
Potential rank was the first measure, a letter or combination ranging from E to SS, and in rare cases, SSS. It indicated how far one could grow. Many sought to increase it, not knowing that true strength relied as much on intelligence and strategy as raw ability.
Then came the class—the form a person's abilities would take. Some were warriors, wielding weapons with impossible skill. Some were mages, bending elements to their will. Others were tricksters, strategists, or healers. The class dictated style, but not ingenuity. Many who ignored their class limitations failed spectacularly, while those who understood it mastered the battlefield.
Every person also had an affinity: the elemental or metaphysical force that resonated most with them. Some wielded fire to burn their enemies. Some controlled wind, moving faster than the eye could follow. Water, earth, light, shadow—each element offered both advantage and limitation. But a rare few possessed dual affinities, balancing contrasting powers in ways others could not predict.
Then there were traits, unique marks of character manifesting in power. Some allowed resilience, others granted cunning, and a few—even rarer—could manipulate perception itself. Traits were permanent, a reflection of the soul's deepest core.
Finally, each awakened individual possessed a unique skill: a single ability that defined them. This was the pinnacle of individuality, impossible to duplicate, and often the difference between life and death. The skill could be offensive, defensive, supportive, or strategic, but it was always distinctive and absolute.
Weapons, when bound to the system, became more than metal or wood—they became extensions of intent, responding to thought rather than motion. Some wielded swords, others bows or staves. A select few used unconventional tools: cards, masks, or even shadows themselves. The weapon, combined with class, affinity, trait, and skill, was the ultimate formula of survival.
And in the heart of the academy, young students would awaken for the first time, faces lit by the glow of their screens. They would see not only their potential, but the endless paths ahead—paths of danger, strategy, rivalry, and perhaps, redemption.
Noah—now Julien—would come to understand it well. He did not need raw power. He only needed to know how to use what he had, to bend the system subtly, and to survive where others failed. The Status Screen was not just a measure of strength. It was a map, a guide, and a test—and in this world, only those who mastered it would endure.