The sun above Urtima Province blazed with a cruel intensity, as if it, too, understood the gravity of the day. In Heroes' Square, the breath of thousands of teenagers seemed to sync into a single, rhythmic pulse—heavy and thick with anticipation. At the center of the plaza stood a massive, sword-shaped black monolith, casting an eerie, bluish glint under the harsh light. This was no ordinary stone; it was the divine arbiter that would carve out the destiny of every youth gathered here today.
"Next candidate: Drake Haytem!" Director Sayrim's voice boomed across the square.
A young man detached himself from the crowd. His golden hair shimmered in the sun, and his towering height and broad shoulders made him stand out among his peers. Drake's face bore an expression of supreme, almost suffocating self-assurance. As he ascended the stage, the crowd below erupted into hushed whispers. The Haytem family was one of the wealthiest and most influential bloodlines in the province; it felt impossible for their heir to awaken anything less than extraordinary.
The moment Drake's hand brushed the monolith, the sword-shaped stone began to tremble. Suddenly, a cold, deathly fog erupted from the base, swallowing the light. It felt as if the sun itself had been extinguished. The air grew rancid, heavy with the stench of rotting earth and ancient bone.
[Ding!]
[Class Granted: Necromancer]
The crowd fell into a momentary, stunned silence before a roar of awe shook the plaza. A Necromancer! A legendary profession capable of commanding legions of the dead—a one-man army on the battlefield. But the monolith wasn't finished. Golden inscriptions flashed across its surface, and a pillar of light descended from the heavens, pinning Drake in its center.
[SSS-Rank Talent Awakened!]
[Talant Name: 6x Multiplier]
[Effect: All Experience (EXP) gained is multiplied by 6.]
"Six times the experience?!" one of the deans gasped, leaping to his feet. The glass in his hand shattered against the floor. "That means… he'll reach in two months what others take a year to achieve? A 0.01% probability… We are witnessing the birth of a living legend!"
Military officials and academy recruiters eyed each other like predators, mentally calculating the fortunes and favors they would need to offer to sway Drake to their side. Drake, basking in the worshipful gazes of the crowd, flashed a predatory smirk as he stepped off the stage. To him, the world had just become a playground.
"Ardam… Ardam Kray! Please step forward!" Sayrim's voice was lower this time, tinged with a lingering tremor from the previous excitement.
The crowd's tension had bled out after Drake's spectacle. Ardam pushed through the throng, his movements steady. His clothes were simple, his gaze calm. But before he could reach the stairs, a slender hand caught his arm.
Akrina. His childhood friend, his betrothed. Her eyes were a whirlwind of fear and fierce loyalty. She gripped Ardam's hand, her fingers trembling slightly.
"Ardam," she whispered, her voice low but unwavering. "No matter what happens… whether you're a farmer or a warrior, my feelings won't change. Remember, our fate isn't bound to this stone. I'll still love you."
Her sincerity drew the attention of those nearby. Ardam paused. He saw the flicker of worry in her eyes, the fear of the unknown future. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. He gently disengaged her hand and placed his own on her head, smoothing her hair in a silent, tender gesture. He said nothing, but the act spoke volumes: Don't worry.
With a firm stride, he left her behind and climbed the stairs. Director Sayrim watched him approach. After Drake, any result should have seemed mundane, yet something about the boy's composure made the Director sharpen his focus.
"Place your hand on the center of the monolith, son," Sayrim instructed.
Ardam took a deep breath and pressed his palm against the cold, jagged surface. For a heartbeat, there was nothing but silence. Then, abruptly, it felt as though fire had replaced the blood in Ardam's veins. A searing surge of energy poured from his body into the monolith, lighting it up from within.
The sky above the square twisted. Dark, violet clouds swirled into a vortex, revolving around the monolith. The air grew so heavy it felt as if gravity had increased tenfold. Below, ordinary teenagers began to buckle, falling to their knees, gasping for air.
"What… what is this?!" a military officer shouted, flaring his own aura to resist the crushing pressure.
The academy directors squinted at the stage. Ardam stood enveloped in a thick, bicolored aura of crimson and gold that threatened to swallow the entire square. The monolith groaned, deep fissures spiderwebbing across its surface as if it couldn't contain the power surging through it.
Just as the pressure reached its peak and a high-pitched whine pierced the air, the light abruptly died. The sky cleared. Gravity returned to normal, and the suffocating weight vanished. Director Sayrim, his hands shaking, looked at the monolith's surface. The floating inscriptions projected themselves for all to see.
[Ding!]
[Class Granted: Summoner]
[G-Rank Talent Granted! Talent Name: Ego]
A deathly silence hung over the square for a few seconds. Then… a single snicker, followed by a wave of laughter that tore through the province.
"A Summoner? All that theater for a Summoner?" Drake Haytem was the first to howl. His face, pale with fear just moments ago, was now flushed with mockery. "And here I thought I'd found a real rival! A Summoner—the most useless, 'trash' profession in existence!"
"Hahaha!" another youth chimed in. "What are you going to do in a fight, Ardam? Hide behind some weak beast? Here's a tip: go contract a dog so it can at least guard your house!"
The waves of ridicule crashed against Ardam. Everyone knew the truth: Summoners were the bottom-feeders of this world. To contract a worthy creature required a literal king's ransom. To make matters worse, every summoned beast drained the life force of its master. Most Summoners didn't make it to thirty, dying withered and old, victims of their own contracts.
The military and academy officials settled back into their seats, their faces masks of cold indifference. A G-rank talent? That was below even 'F' rank. It was, quite literally, garbage.
Director Sayrim sighed heavily, placing a pitying hand on Ardam's shoulder. "Don't lose heart, son," he said quietly. "Life isn't only about fighting. If you contract a couple of goblins, it's safe and cheap. They aren't much in battle, but they're great for hauling goods. You'll find work in the city markets."
Ardam simply nodded. There was no sadness on his face, no rage. He began his descent from the stage as thousands of mocking eyes burned into his back. Drake Haytem puffed out his chest and sneered as Ardam passed: "Move along, 'porter.' Don't block the way!"
Ardam's eyes searched the crowd for one person—Akrina. The girl who, moments ago, had sworn her love was eternal. She was already moving toward the monolith. Ardam reached out, wanting to offer a word of comfort. "Akrina…"
But she recoiled, pulling away as if he were something diseased. She didn't even look him in the eye. Her gaze was cold, distant, and utterly foreign. She walked past him as if he weren't even there. Her proud stride and blatant contempt cut deeper than any blade. It was clear: she had no intention of tethering her future to a G-rank Summoner.
Ardam moved to the edge of the square, forgotten. In that moment of isolation, something happened. A system window, visible only to him, flickered from a calm blue to a searing, molten gold. The text writhed like liquid fire, rewriting itself.
[Ding!][System Reboot Complete...]
[Updating Data!]
Ardam's pulse quickened as the words burned directly into his consciousness:
[Name: Ardam Kray][Age: 18]
[Class: King of Summoners (Evolved!)]
[Talent: Ego (G - God Rank)]
[Rarity: 0.5 in 1,000,000,000 individuals across the universe]
[Stats:]Strength: 9Mental: 9Physique: 5Erta: 11
Ardam stared at the word "Erta." The system immediately provided a clarification:
[Ding! "Erta" is a source of compressed, ultra-pure spiritual energy. 1 Erta = 10 standard Mana Points (MP).]