I first learned about the Gatebreak in school, during history class. The Seven Days Before the End. Everyone in the Kingdom of Baalbek knew that story.
Seven days before the first gates appeared, people around the world saw the same message in front of their eyes. A system notification with a countdown. No one understood what it meant at the time. Some believed it and prepared. Some laughed and ignored it. Most people realized the truth when it was already too late.
When the countdown reached zero, the gates opened. Monsters came out, cities fell, and entire countries disappeared in a single day. Baalbek survived only because seven people stood at the front during the first Gatebreak. They fought while others ran. Later, they were called heroes.
Those seven heroes founded seven great families that shaped the kingdom's future. My family was one of them. The Arshen Family. Our founder's name appeared in every history book. Because of him, my family became rich and powerful. Because of him, expectations followed me wherever I went.
Today was my awakening day.
In Baalbek, everyone received their class at sixteen. It did not matter how talented you were or how much money your family had. The System decided everything. I had trained for this moment for years. My family gave me access to every weapon imaginable. Swords, spears, firearms. I learned how to use them, identify them, and understand their limits. I believed this was my path.
I believed I would become a hero.
The System message appeared without warning, floating quietly in front of my eyes.
[Class Acquired.]
My breath caught as I waited for the next line.
[Primary Class: Apprasier(?)]
I stared at the word.
Apprasier
I blinked and read it again. It looked familiar, but wrong. Like a name that almost made sense, but not quite. I waited for the System to correct itself.
It didn't.
There was no explanation, no description, no rank.
Just that single word.
The System screen faded before I could ask anything else. No explanation followed. Just that strange word burned into my mind.
Apprasier.
Only I could see it. That was how the System worked. No one else knew my class unless I said it myself.
That made it worse.
The hall was already full when I arrived. The main hall of the Arshen estate was reserved for important events only. Today was one of them. Awakening Day. Every member of the family who had any right to be there was present. Elders, relatives, branch families, and guests who pretended not to judge. They all stood in neat rows, waiting. Waiting for me.
This ceremony was supposed to be simple. I would step forward, announce my class, and receive recognition as the next generation of the Arshen Family. That was how it had always gone. For heroes. For warriors.
I stepped onto the platform and felt dozens of eyes lock onto me.
The head of the family sat at the front. My father. His posture was straight, his expression calm, impossible to read. Beside him sat my mother. She was smiling, but her hands were clenched tightly in her lap.
I swallowed.
"My class is…" I hesitated for half a second longer than I should have. "…Apprasier."
The word felt strange on my tongue. Like I was saying it wrong, even though it was written exactly that way.
The hall went silent.
No anger. No shouting. Just confusion. My father did not react. He did not frown or raise his voice. He simply looked at me, his eyes steady, as if he were trying to understand something that did not make sense.
My mother's smile faltered. Her eyes widened slightly, and I saw the moment it hit her. She had expected many things. This was not one of them.
A soft scoff broke the silence.
It came from the side seats.
My uncle leaned back in his chair, one arm resting casually on the armrest. He was my father's younger brother. A man who smiled often and meant none of it. His eyes flicked toward me, then to my father.
"Apprasier?" he repeated, dragging the word out. "Is that even a real class?"
A few quiet laughs followed.
His son stood beside him. My cousin. He was already awakened, already praised, already wearing that confident look I had seen too many times before. He looked at me with open curiosity, then smiled.
"Maybe the System made a typo," he said lightly. "It happens, right?"
I clenched my fists.
Before I could say anything, a hand rested on my shoulder.
"Enough."
My sister stepped forward. She stood beside me, tall and calm, her voice steady in a way mine wasn't. She didn't look at my uncle or my cousin. She looked straight ahead.
"He received a class," she said. "That's all that matters." Her grip tightened slightly, just enough for me to feel it.
"You did fine," she said quietly, for my ears only.
I wasn't sure if she believed it. But I held onto those words anyway.
My uncle's son had awakened just a week before me. Everyone in the family knew that. He stood proudly near his father, wearing a faint smile that never left his face. The reason was simple. His class was one people admired.
Holy Knight.
In Baalbek, classes were everything. Some classes were made for battle. Warriors, knights, mages. They stood on the front lines and received glory. Some classes focused on support. Healers, buffers, tacticians. They were respected, even if they rarely fought directly.
And then there were classes people tried not to talk about.
Production classes. Information classes. Classes with no clear combat use. Some were useful in the long run. Others were seen as failures from the moment they appeared.
The System did not care about opinions.
But people did.
A Holy Knight was a perfect class. High defense, strong melee combat, and access to holy energy that could protect allies and harm monsters at the same time. In modern Baalbek, Holy Knights were symbols. Shields of the kingdom. Heroes in shining armor.
An Apprasier was not. At least, that was how everyone saw it. My uncle smiled wider, clearly enjoying the moment. "It's just a difference in luck," he said casually, though his tone said the opposite. "Some are chosen for greatness. Others…" His son stepped forward slightly. "Don't worry too much," my cousin said, pretending to be kind. "Support classes still have their place. Someone has to stand behind the real fighters."
The words were soft. The meaning wasn't.
I looked at him. At the calm confidence in his eyes. At the faint glow of pride he didn't even bother to hide. He had awakened, been praised, and accepted. His path was clear.
Mine wasn't.
Around us, the elders whispered among themselves. Not loudly. Just enough. I caught fragments. "Information class." "Not suitable for combat." "What a waste."
My father remained silent.
He did not defend me.
He did not scold them either.
He simply watched, his expression unchanged. That somehow hurt more.
My mother lowered her head, her fingers trembling slightly. She had believed, just like I had. That belief broke quietly, without sound.
My sister's hand tightened on my shoulder again.
"Look at me," she whispered. I did.
Her eyes were steady. Not pitying. Not disappointed.
"Classes don't decide everything," she said. "Not yet."
I nodded, even though I wasn't sure I believed that either.
Above all the voices, above the expectations and the judgment, one thought stayed in my mind.
The System had given me something strange.
And I still didn't know why.
The ceremony ended without applause.
People left the hall one by one, their conversations low but clear enough. No one spoke to me directly. There was no need. Their expectations had already changed.
When I returned to my room, the estate felt quieter than usual. The walls were the same. The weapons displayed along the corridor were the same. But something about them felt distant now, like they no longer belonged to me.
I sat on the edge of my bed and stared at my hands.
"Apprasier," I muttered.
The System did not respond.
I closed my eyes, then opened them again.
A new message appeared.
[Class Status: Incomplete.]