...
The author slumped over his desk, surrounded by crumpled papers and discarded drafts. His pen moved across the page in swift strokes, words pouring out in a torrent. But before he'd even finished a sentence, he'd scratch it out, start over, and do it all again.
The room around him was a mess, books and papers scattered everywhere. Empty coffee cups and broken pens littered the floor. The author's eyes were bloodshot, his hair disheveled.
He wrote and rewrote, the words blurring together on the page. His mind was a whirlwind of characters and plot twists, but nothing seemed to stick. Every sentence was rewritten a dozen times, every paragraph scratched out and started anew.
The author's frustration grew with each passing moment. He crumpled another sheet of paper, tossing it aside with a growl. Why couldn't he get it right? Why couldn't he just tell the story?
As the hours ticked by, the author's scribbles grew more frantic, his words more illegible. But still he wrote, driven by a maddening compulsion to get it just right.
Days later, the author still on the same chair and desk, surrounded by the same chaos of papers and broken pens. But something was different. A small smile played on his lips, and his eyes sparkled with a hint of madness.
He stared at the page in front of him, covered in scribbled notes and crossed-out sentences. But amidst the mess, one sentence stood out: "And so, the world began to change, in ways both subtle and profound."
The author's smile grew wider as he read the words over and over, a sense of satisfaction and excitement building in his chest. Maybe, just maybe, he was onto something.
...
"Okay, let's get this over with," I said to myself, or rather, to the readers. My name is not particularly important, but for the sake of convenience, let's just call me the Observer. I'll be guiding you through this tale, narrating the events as they unfold.
Don't worry, I won't intrude too much, I'll just provide the necessary commentary to keep you informed. So, sit back, relax, and let's get on with the story. The young figure shrouded in mystery by a cloak that only revealed a bit of his dark hair.
"Ugh, why can't he just tell the story himself?" the Observer muttered under his breath. "I swear, I'm here to guide, not be the entire narrative team..."
With a sigh, he continued, "Alright, let's get this over with. As I was saying, the world in question is called Novaria – a realm of wonder and magic, where the fabric of reality is woven with the threads of imagination. Or, at least, that's the idea.
The Observer leaned in, a hint of a smile on his face. "But Novaria's not just any world – it's a world of ancient forests, mythical creatures, and forgotten lore, where the very laws of physics are bent to the author's whim.
"Novaria, a world of magic and mystery, ruled by six powerful deities, or rather, I would say served by them, each watching over their respective domains and the species that inhabit them," the Observer continued, his voice taking on a lecturing tone.
"Let's start with the gods. There's Kalthok, the Shadow supreme, he is only worshiped in lores and they don't really worship him again, they have their demon king with them after all.
Lyraea, the Goddess of the Crimson moon, revered by the Vampires; Rheas, the mother of nature, worshiped by the elves;Kordax, the Forge Father, patron deity of the Dwarves; Aerthys, the Wildcaller, goddess of the Beast Folk; and lastly, Freya, the Goddess served by the humans."
The Observer paused, eyeing the scribbled notes on the author's desk. "Now, about these races... In Novaria, the Demons have proven to be the strongest, their innate magical abilities and physical prowess making them formidable warriors. The Vampires, while as strong as the demons, possess a certain charisma and cunning that serves them well in the shadows. The Elves, with their mastery of magic and archery, are a force to be reckoned with, while the Beast Folk and Dwarves bring their own unique strengths to the table. And then, of course, there are the Humans, fragile and resilient in equal measure."
The Observer's eyes glazed over, his gaze drifting into the void as he muttered to himself. "Seriously, the weakest race? Humans? How predictable. 'The fragile, resilient humans'... can't the author think outside the box for once? And don't even get me started on the ranking system. 'Demons strongest, Vampires second, Elves third...' It's like he's trying to check off every fantasy cliche in the book."
The Observer leaned in, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Now, where were we? Ah yes, the ranking system. It's not just about raw power, you see. There are other factors at play... and the author seems to be hinting at something more. Something that could potentially disrupt the entire balance of power in Novaria..."
The Observer nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Ah, yes, the humans have a unique way of gauging strength. In Novaria, humans have developed a system known as 'Essence Alignment,' which measures an individual's magical affinity and potential. It's a complex system, but essentially, it determines one's ability to tap into and manipulate the world's magical energies which is mana."
He leaned in, his voice taking on a slightly conspiratorial tone. "And, in this world, power is everything. The amount of magical energy one possesses, and their ability to wield it, determines their place in society. Even among humans, who are generally considered the weakest species, those with stronger magical abilities are accorded greater respect and influence."
The Observer's eyes widened in surprise as a whiteboard materialized out of thin air, accompanied by the faint scent of fresh markers. He stared at it for a moment before shrugging and grabbing a marker.
"Well, I suppose it's time for a PowerPoint... er, whiteboard presentation," he quipped, scribbling furiously.
"Okay, so humans in Novaria use the Adventurer System to gauge their strength. It's a ranking system, ranging from F (the lowest) to S (the highest). But, of course, because humans are never satisfied with a simple system, they had to add some exceptions."
The Observer wrote on the board with flair:
F Rank: " Responsible for Community chores quests "
E Rank: "Might survive a goblin attack"
D Rank: "Can take down a group of goblins"
C Rank: Can take on a group of kobolds
B Rank: Can take a Wyvern (with a team)
A Rank: "Can take down a dragon (with a team)"
S Rank: "Can take down a dragon (solo)"
He stepped back, admiring his handiwork. "And then, because humans love to make things complicated, they added the SS and SSS ranks for those special snowflakes who defy the norm."
SS Rank: "Can take down worldly threats (Hero level)"
SSS Rank: "Can conquer the World (theoretically)"
The Observer chuckled. "I mean, who needs a resume when you can just put your rank on a business card?"