Chapter 1: The One Who Defied Fate
The first thing Alexander Vale saw when he opened his eyes was the ceiling.
Cracked paint. A brown water stain near the corner. A tiny spider hanging motionlessly from a web that had probably been there longer than he had.
The same ceiling he had stared at every morning for the past eighteen years.
Alex blinked.
Then he tried to sit up.
Pain immediately shot through his chest, and a wave of dizziness forced him back against the pillow.
"Cough! Cough! Cough!"
He pressed a hand against his mouth and waited for the fit to pass.
It took nearly a minute.
When it finally subsided, he lowered his hand and stared at his trembling fingers.
Nothing unusual.
No blood. No strange discoloration. Nothing that could explain why his body seemed determined to fall apart before he had even properly begun living.
"Wonderful," he muttered hoarsely. "Another beautiful morning."
His attempt at sarcasm ended in a dry cough.
Alex closed his eyes.
Today was his eighteenth birthday.
For most people, it was supposed to be the beginning of a new life.
For him, it was the day he would discover just how little hope remained.
Three hundred years ago, the world had changed.
Nobody knew precisely why it happened. One day, mysterious gates appeared across the planet, dungeons materialized beneath cities and mountains, and creatures that belonged in nightmares began pouring into human territory.
Then came the System.
Humanity received levels, attributes, skills, quests, and the ability to grow stronger by defeating monsters. Those who awakened as Players could enter dungeons, explore dangerous territories, and eventually challenge the Tower of Ascension.
The Tower was humanity's greatest opportunity.
It was also one of its greatest mysteries.
Those who reached Level 20 became eligible to challenge its first floor. Successful challengers could obtain a class, unlocking an entirely new path of growth.
Warriors. Mages. Assassins. Healers. Summoners.
Some received ordinary classes.
Others obtained rare or even legendary ones, becoming the sort of people whose names appeared in history books.
And then there were people like Alex.
People who hadn't even awakened yet.
People who had spent their entire lives watching others race ahead while they struggled to take their next breath.
Alex turned his head toward the small alarm clock on the bedside table.
7:12 a.m.
His assessment at the Awakening Association was scheduled for nine.
He had less than two hours.
With a sigh, he pushed himself upright.
His feet touched the cold floor. He remained sitting for several seconds, waiting for the dizziness to disappear, before reaching for the glass of water beside his bed.
The water was stale.
He drank it anyway.
There were more important things to worry about than the taste of water.
His gaze drifted toward the photograph beside the clock.
It showed two children standing in front of a small house.
The boy was skinny, with messy black hair and a wide, unrestrained smile. The girl beside him was a few years older. She had one arm wrapped around his shoulders, and she was grinning at the camera as if the world belonged to her.
They looked happy.
They had been happy.
Alex picked up the photograph.
"Hey, sis."
His thumb brushed the glass covering her face.
"I'm going to do it today."
He swallowed.
"You'd better wake up soon, you know? I'm getting tired of doing everything myself."
His voice cracked on the final word.
He immediately looked away.
There was no one in the room to hear him, yet he felt embarrassed.
That was the strange thing about pain. Sometimes, even when you were alone, you wanted to hide it.
Alex returned the photograph to the table and forced himself to stand.
He had an assessment to attend.
And his sister was waiting for him.
Or, more accurately, she was lying unconscious in a hospital bed, with tubes attached to her body and machines monitoring her condition.
She had been there for twenty-three days.
Twenty-three days since the raid.
Twenty-three days since the woman who had practically raised him stopped opening her eyes.
Twenty-three days since his world had fallen apart.
The Awakening Association occupied a massive building in the center of the city.
Its silver-and-blue exterior reflected the morning sunlight, while a holographic display above the entrance showed advertisements for high-ranking Hunters and their latest achievements.
A man wearing golden armor appeared on the screen.
LEVEL 87. S-RANK HUNTER. DRAGONSLAYER GUILD CAPTAIN.
The advertisement transitioned to a woman holding a glowing staff.
LEVEL 91. S-RANK HEALER. WORLDWIDE MEDICAL ASSOCIATION.
Alex stood across the street, staring at the display.
For a moment, he imagined himself standing there.
Not as some legendary Hunter. He wasn't foolish enough to dream that far.
He imagined himself wearing a simple Hunter uniform, carrying a weapon, and returning from a dungeon with enough money to pay for his sister's treatment.
That was all.
He didn't need fame.
He didn't need power for its own sake.
He wanted to walk into the hospital, pay the outstanding bills, and tell the doctors to use every available treatment to bring his sister back.
He wanted to hear her complain about his terrible cooking.
He wanted her to ruffle his hair and tell him he looked like a starving stray cat.
He wanted to hear her voice.
That was all he wanted.
His fingers tightened around the strap of his worn backpack.
"Just let me become a Player," he whispered.
It sounded pathetic.
He didn't care.
Alex crossed the street.
Inside, the Awakening Association was bustling with activity. Hunters in reinforced armor walked past reception desks, their weapons secured in protective cases. Clerks spoke into communication devices, and enormous screens displayed dungeon alerts, bounty notices, and lists of available missions.
Everything smelled of disinfectant, expensive coffee, and the faint metallic scent of mana.
Alex felt painfully out of place.
His clothes were old but clean. His shoes had been repaired twice, and the sleeves of his jacket were slightly too long.
His face wasn't much better.
Pimples and acne covered his cheeks and forehead. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his pale complexion made him look even more exhausted than he felt.
He had tried every inexpensive treatment he could afford.
Some had done nothing.
Others had made his skin worse.
Eventually, he had stopped looking in the mirror for longer than necessary.
He knew what people saw when they looked at him.
A sickly boy with a terrible complexion.
Someone who looked as though a strong breeze might knock him over.
Someone who had no business entering a dungeon.
Alex lowered his gaze and approached the registration counter.
"Good morning. I'm here for my mana assessment."
The receptionist looked up.
She appeared to be in her late twenties, with neatly tied hair and an Association uniform.
"Identification, please."
He handed over his identity card.
She scanned it.
"Alexander Vale. Eighteen years old today?"
"Yes."
"First assessment?"
"Yes."
Her eyes moved briefly toward his face before returning to the screen.
Alex noticed.
He always noticed.
He had spent years learning to recognize the subtle changes in people's expressions—the slight tightening around the eyes, the momentary hesitation, the way their voices changed when they realized he wasn't as healthy as he should have been.
He had become very good at noticing things.
He had also become very good at pretending not to.
"Assessment room twelve," the receptionist said. "Follow the blue indicators. The fee has already been paid?"
Alex nodded.
His sister had saved the money months ago.
She had insisted on it even when he had argued that the money would be better spent on his medication.
You're turning eighteen, idiot. You deserve to know what you're capable of.
That was what she had told him.
He remembered laughing at her.
Now the memory hurt.
"Thank you," he said.
He walked away before the receptionist could see his expression change.
The mana assessment room was smaller than he expected.
A white chamber. A circular platform. A crystalline pillar standing in the center.
An examiner sat behind a transparent desk, reviewing a series of holographic records.
"Alexander Vale?"
"That's me."
"Stand on the platform. Place your right hand against the crystal when instructed. The device will measure your mana affinity, capacity, and initial compatibility. The assessment determines your preliminary mana rank, not your eventual potential."
Alex stepped onto the platform.
His heartbeat was too fast.
He wiped his damp palms against his trousers.
The examiner glanced at him.
"Are you nervous?"
"A little."
"That's normal. Try to relax."
Easy for you to say, Alex thought.
He forced a weak smile.
The examiner touched a control panel.
The crystalline pillar began to glow.
"Place your hand against it."
Alex obeyed.
The surface was cold.
For several seconds, nothing happened.
Then a faint blue light appeared beneath his palm.
A thin stream of light traveled through the crystal, climbed toward its upper section, and flickered uncertainly.
The examiner frowned.
He adjusted the device's settings.
The light flickered again.
Alex held his breath.
Come on.
Please.
He didn't know whether he was praying to the System, the universe, or some forgotten god.
He didn't care.
Just give me a chance.
The pillar released a soft chime.
A holographic display appeared above it.
[Mana Assessment Complete.]
[Name: Alexander Vale]
[Mana Affinity: E-Rank]
[Mana Capacity: Extremely Low]
[Mana Sensitivity: Below Average]
[Initial Potential: E-Rank]
Alex stared at the words.
For a moment, his mind refused to understand them.
E-Rank.
Extremely low.
Below average.
His fingers remained pressed against the crystal, but he could no longer feel its cold surface.
The examiner cleared his throat.
"Your mana reading is E-Rank. Your current capacity is insufficient for most mana-intensive occupations. However, you may still be able to pursue certain entry-level paths, depending on your subsequent Player awakening."
Alex blinked.
"Sorry. Could you repeat that?"
The examiner looked at him with the careful expression of someone delivering bad news.
"Your assessment is E-Rank."
"I heard that part."
His voice came out sharper than he intended.
He immediately regretted it.
The examiner paused.
Alex lowered his head.
"Sorry. I just…"
He couldn't finish.
What was he supposed to say?
That he had spent eighteen years being sick?
That he had swallowed bitter medicine until he could barely stand the smell of it?
That his sister had worked herself half to death to keep him alive?
That she was now unconscious in a hospital bed, and the only person who could pay for her treatment was the boy standing in front of an E-Rank assessment result?
None of that mattered to the crystal.
The crystal had measured him.
The result was the result.
"Is there a mistake?" Alex asked quietly.
The examiner checked the readings.
"No. The equipment is functioning normally."
"Can I try again?"
"You can request a retest after the required waiting period, but I should be honest with you. Your readings are consistent."
Alex stared at the floor.
Consistent.
What a polite word for hopeless.
"Does this mean I can't become a Hunter?"
"Not necessarily. Your mana rank and your Player awakening are separate assessments. Some Hunters rely on physical attributes, weapons, or non-mana abilities. However, given your current condition, I would advise you to consider safer alternatives."
Safer alternatives.
A desk job?
A warehouse?
Something that paid enough to buy groceries and perhaps one bottle of medicine every few months?
His sister's treatment cost more in a week than Alex could earn in several months doing ordinary work.
He didn't need someone to tell him about safer alternatives.
He needed a miracle.
"Thank you for your time," Alex said.
He stepped off the platform.
The examiner said something else—perhaps a recommendation, perhaps an attempt at encouragement—but Alex barely heard him.
He walked out of the room.
Then out of the building.