The night was deep.
A round moon hung in the sky. The stars were arranged in a strange pattern, as if something had already gone wrong. There was fear in them.
But it was the kind of fear that couldn't be explained.
Then, in the middle of that blanket of stars, four lights appeared.
Dark blue.
Dark red.
Light gold.
And around them, a thick black glow.
It looked as if a rule of the world had just been broken.
Far away, on the tall walls of Simil City, a few old men suddenly fell silent.
"This… is not normal," one of them said quietly.
Black.
Black again.
Blue… and that light golden glow.
"This is not a normal sign."
"It feels like something dangerous has arrived."
"If it turns out well, things may stay calm for now. But if it turns out badly…"
He did not finish the sentence.
"We will not record this," a cold voice replied.
"Things we do not understand do not belong in history."
"Yes," another equally cold voice agreed.
Five years passed.
People still remembered that night.
But no one knew what it truly meant.
Within the borders of Northvale Province, among countless schools and sects
Northvale Lion Academy was loud again today.
It was recruitment day.
A flood of people stood outside the gates.
Hope. Fear. Pride. Desperation. All mixed together.
And the responsibility of handling this chaos fell on—
The Outer Court disciples.
They worked the most.
And were valued the least.
Outer Court disciple.
The meaning was simple.
No talent.
No future.
Only use.
"Stay in line!"
"Don't push!"
"Say your name clearly!"
A thin but steady voice kept controlling the crowd.
The boy was not very old.
Calm face. Plain clothes.
No shine in his eyes. No visible dreams.
His name was Kabir Madan.
Fifteen years old.
An Outer Court disciple of Northvale Lion Academy.
He used to belong to a martial family.
Now he was just a name, sometimes even written wrong on the lists.
"Watch your tone!" a woman stepped forward. She wore expensive clothes. A child stood beside her.
"Do you know who I am?"
Kabir lowered his head slightly.
"I'm sorry. Today's time is over. Please come tomorrow."
There was no fear in his voice.
No anger.
Only fact.
"Tomorrow?" The woman laughed. "This is a mountain, not an inn. Where are we supposed to go?"
She grabbed his arm.
Kabir looked at her.
For one moment.
Then said quietly, "The rules are not mine."
Murmurs spread through the crowd.
Then suddenly
Silence.
A purple robe.
And the kind of stillness that comes with power.
"Is there a problem?"
The voice was calm.
The eyes were not.
The woman's face turned pale.
Kabir lowered his gaze.
He knew
This was not his fight.
His fight was simple.
Every day, it was only this
How to stay alive until tomorrow.
After the Inner Court disciple in purple left, the noise returned.
Names were called. Gates opened and closed.
Kabir stayed where he always stood.
As the sun went down, the mountain air turned cold. The faces of the Outer Court disciples showed fatigue.
"That's enough for today," someone said.
"The rest tomorrow."
The crowd slowly dispersed.
Kabir checked the gates one last time, then walked down the wooden stairs.
His shoulders ached slightly.
Nothing new.
The path to the Outer Court was narrow.
It was always lower than the rest of the academy.
As if the ground itself reminded them who stood above.
His room was small.
One bed. One table. Cracks on the wall.
Through the window, he could see the tall buildings of the Inner Court.
He sat down.
For a while, he did nothing.
Then he looked at his palm.
Rough.
Cut marks.
Old and new.
Memories came on their own.
"Your inner energy is unstable."
He remembered that day clearly.
Dozens of people stood inside the martial hall.
All eyes on him.
Kabir.
"Three years," someone had said.
"Three years of training, and no progress."
"No strength."
"No talent."
"No future."
His father had said nothing.
He only looked at the ground.
The decision came quickly.
"In the Madan family tradition… there is no reason to keep such a member."
He was removed.
Without anger.
Without hatred.
Like a broken weapon set aside.
Kabir opened his eyes.
He had never thought about revenge.
Never dreamed of crushing anyone.
He only remembered one thing
The empty feeling in his stomach when he left home that day.
Hunger.
He stood up and pulled out a small bag from under the table.
Inside were a few dry flatbreads.
Enough for today.
As he ate, he thought
What would happen tomorrow?
The Inner Court exam was near.
He knew he would not pass.
He only wanted to know
After failing, would they still let him stay here?
Somewhere inside, a strange exhaustion was building.
Not in his body.
In his mind.
Like an invisible clock ticking.
He looked out the window.
Night was deep again.
And at that moment
The air became slightly heavier.
Very light.
Almost unnoticeable.
Kabir lifted his head.
"…?"
No sound.
No light.
And yet
It felt like something
Was counting his breaths.
The room was dark.
The lamp had gone out, but Kabir was still awake.
The air still felt heavy.
Not enough to stop his breathing
Just enough to make him aware of every breath.
He turned to his side.
A few seconds passed.
Then
Tick.
There was no real sound, but it felt like something clicked.
Inside his mind.
His body went stiff on its own.
Not from fear.
From habit.
As if he had been trained for years to react to the unknown.
"If someone is there… come out," Kabir said quietly.
No response.
Then a strange sensation
As if a finger pressed lightly against his spine.
And a voice appeared.
It did not sound human.
[Survival probability: 10%]
Kabir blinked.
"What?"
[Current physical state: deteriorating]
[External support: none]
He slowly sat up.
His heart was not racing.
It was steady.
"If this is some kind of joke," he said calmly, "you picked the wrong person."
Silence.
Then
[Martial Arts Growth System initialized]
Kabir's fingers tightened into the bedsheet.
System.
He had heard that word before.
In stories.
In quiet whispers among Inner Court students.
"So… I'm dying?" he asked directly.
[Not immediately]
The answer was honest.
[Survival possible]
[Condition required]
Kabir did not laugh.
He did not panic.
"Price?" he asked.
This time, there was a pause.
As if something was calculating.
[Future allocation required]
[Body adaptation will commence]
[Pain levels: unavoidable]
Kabir closed his eyes.
He did not want power.
He did not dream of crushing enemies.
He only wanted one thing
To open his eyes tomorrow morning.
"If I refuse?"
[Probability drops to 3%]
Clear.
Kabir leaned his head back against the wall.
"Why me?" he asked.
There was no complaint in his voice.
[Incorrect assumption]
[You were not selected]
For the first time
There was a slight shift in the tone.
[You remained]
Kabir understood.
Everyone else had left.
Family.
Expectations.
Opportunities.
He was the one who remained.
He stayed silent for a long time.
Then he took a slow breath.
"Fine," Kabir said.
"If staying alive requires it… I accept."
A moment of silence.
Then
[Agreement acknowledged]
[Price will be collected later]
A faint burning sensation spread in his chest.
As if his bones were tightening from the inside.
The pain was not sharp.
But it was deep.
Kabir clenched his teeth.
The System di
splayed one last line
[Hero creation: not guaranteed]
[Survival: conditional]
And then
Everything went quiet.
The room was the same.
Dark.
Still.
The only difference
Kabir now understood something clearly.
In this world,
Even survival comes on loan.