The rain poured heavily over the Silver District, washing away the grime of the city streets. But far from the city lights, inside an abandoned textile factory, a darkness was brewing that no rain could wash away.
The factory was a skeletal ruin of rusted steel and broken concrete. It was silent, except for the rhythmic drumming of rain on the shattered roof.
Aryan dropped his heavy bag on the dusty floor. He scanned the area. It was desolate. Perfect. No one would disturb him here.
He sat down on a broken concrete block to catch his breath. The journey from the subway to the market, and then here, had been exhausting. He took a deep breath and waved his hand in the air.
"System," Aryan said, his voice calm. "Status check."
A blue holographic screen flickered into existence, illuminating the gloom.
[Status Window]
* Name: Aryan
* Level: 9
* Class: Void Walker (Hidden)
* HP: 850/850
* Mana (Void Energy): 400/400
* Strength: 25
* Agility: 37
* Intelligence: 20
Aryan's finger hovered over 'Level 9'.
"Level 9..." he muttered. "Compared to the giants of this world, I am not even an ant yet."
The power hierarchy of Earth had shifted drastically over the decades. The current standards were clear:
* Newbie (F-E Rank): Level 1 - 50
* Intermediate (D-C Rank): Level 50 - 200
* Elite (B-A Rank): Level 200 - 500
* Master (S-Rank & Above): Level 500 - 800
"Level 800..." Aryan thought with bitterness. "The strongest Hunters in the world—Guild Masters, National Heroes—they have all plateaued around Level 800."
The world believed that Level 800 was the biological limit of humanity. They thought ascending beyond that was akin to becoming a god, something impossible for mortals.
"But they are wrong," Aryan's eyes shone with a cold light. "They didn't stop because they reached their limit. They stopped because Earth ran out of resources."
To level up past 800, a Hunter needed to kill monsters of Level 900 or higher. But Earth didn't have any monsters that strong. It was a dead end. Humanity was trapped under a glass ceiling due to a lack of prey.
"But I have the Void."
He had seen the future. He had seen dimensions where Level 800 beasts were nothing more than foot soldiers.
"For me, there is no limit. As long as the Void has monsters, I can reach Level 1000... 2000... or even beyond. I will shatter the ceiling that the world thinks is the end."
He assessed his current situation.
"Vikram, the Leader of the Viper Guild... he is an A-Rank Hunter. His level must be somewhere between 350 and 400. And I am just at 9."
Aryan clenched his fist. A cracking sound echoed from his bones.
"My stats are abnormal. My Strength is equal to a Level 40 Hunter. My Void Energy gives me the lethality to surprise even a Level 100 enemy. But Vikram... he is still too far out of reach."
"I need to hunt. I need to find the Void Beasts that are not bound by the laws of this world."
He dismissed the window and stood up. The time for thinking was over. It was time to create.
He approached a large, flat iron block that would serve as his anvil. From his inventory, he pulled out the items that would define his future:
* Black Iron Ore: The raw, heavy metal he bought from Rustom.
* Dimension Fragment: The pulsating purple stone.
* The Blacksmith's Hammer: Old, heavy, and scarred.
He poured the chunks of black ore onto the iron block.
"I don't have a furnace," Aryan said to the empty room. "But I don't need one."
He placed his left hand over the cold metal.
[Void Energy: Output 100%]
WHOOSH!
Purple flames erupted from his hand, engulfing the ore. It wasn't hot fire; it was the cold fire of the Void. It didn't melt the metal; it destabilized it. The iron began to vibrate, its structure softening under the overwhelming pressure of nothingness, turning into a glowing, malleable sludge.
"Now."
Aryan grabbed the Dimension Fragment and pressed it into the glowing metal.
ZZZZZT!
Sparks of distorted reality flew into the air. The stone and the metal rejected each other. The iron tried to push the stone away, and the stone tried to consume the iron.
Aryan gritted his teeth. "Submit!"
He grabbed the heavy hammer with his right hand.
As his fingers wrapped around the worn wooden handle, the cold factory vanished. For a split second, he was back in a warm, small workshop.
(Flashback)
"No, no! You're holding it wrong!"
A melodic voice laughed. Aayat. She was standing behind him, her hands covering his. She smelled of coal and jasmine.
"Don't fight the metal, Aryan," she whispered, her chin resting on his shoulder. "Listen to it. Treat it like a friend, not an enemy. Tell it what you want it to become. Do it like me..."
(Flashback End)
Aryan opened his eyes. A single tear escaped, evaporating instantly in the violet heat.
"I can't make it a friend, Aayat," Aryan roared, his voice cracking. "But I can give it a purpose!"
CLANG!
The first strike. The sound wasn't metallic; it sounded like a bell tolling from the depths of hell.
CLANG!
"The laws of Earth can't stop me! I won't stop at Level 800!"
CLANG!
"I will cut down everyone who ruined us!"
With every blow, he poured his Void Energy into the weapon. The metal began to stretch. It twisted, elongated, and curved. It was no longer a lump of ore. It was growing, feeding on his rage and his sorrow.
The Dimension Fragment shattered, dissolving into the liquid metal, turning the black blade into a starry abyss.
"Become my anger! Become my regret!"
Aryan raised the hammer for the final strike. His mana hit 0. His stamina hit 0. He put his very life force into this blow.
"FORGE!"
BOOOOOOM—!
The hammer connected.
A shockwave of pure black energy exploded outward. The iron block beneath the weapon cracked in half. The windows of the factory shattered outward. The rain above the factory was vaporized instantly, creating a hole in the storm clouds.
Silence followed.
Dust swirled around Aryan. He stood there, panting, his chest heaving. His clothes were torn, his body bruised from the recoil.
But in his hand, he held It.
It was magnificent. A six-foot-long Scythe. The handle was made of a dark, bone-like metal. The blade was curved like a crescent moon, pitch black (Vantablack), with pulsating purple veins running through it like a heartbeat. It didn't reflect light; it devoured it.
A system notification floated in front of him, glowing gold.
[Unique Weapon Created]
[Class: Death Scythe]
[Grade: Growth Type (Currently E-Rank)]
[Attributes: Space Severing, Soul Reaping]
[The weapon has bonded with the user's soul.]
[Please name your weapon.]
Aryan ran his hand along the cold blade. He felt a connection. It wasn't just a tool. It was a part of him. It was the physical manifestation of the pain he felt every day.
"Its name..." Aryan whispered, his eyes gleaming with a terrifying resolve. "Is Vedna."
[Weapon Name Set: Vedna (The Agony)]
Somewhere in the City Center - Viper Guild HQ
Vikram, the A-Rank Guild Leader, was standing in his penthouse, looking out at the rain.
CRACK!
The expensive wine glass in his hand shattered without warning. Red wine spilled over his fingers like blood.
"This..." Vikram stepped back, his heart pounding against his ribs. He felt it. A wave of pressure. "This wasn't the pressure of a Level 10 or 20. This was... ancient."
He looked towards the outskirts of the city. He didn't know what had just been born, but for the first time in years, the predator felt fear.
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