Kael's sword wavered as he attempted to channel [Sword Energy], the pale blue light flickering like a dying glowstick against Auren's pre-dawn darkness. He adjusted his grip for the fifth time in as many minutes, trying to find that elusive perfect balance everyone else seemed to discover instinctively. The blade—three months of saved copper coins that had seemed like such an investment—felt alien in his hands, more an impediment than an extension of his will.
If he was honest with himself, even practice wooden swords had felt just as awkward.
Neon advertisements from the megacity's crystal spires painted the practice grounds in shifting shadows, their garish glow a stark reminder of humanity's defiance against the darkness that had claimed most of Earth. Five years ago, those same lights had illuminated the town square when Kael had watched the Sword Saint cleave reality itself with a single perfect strike. That day had changed everything.
The practice dummy stood unmarked before him, its worn surface joining the silent chorus of his failures. Around him, other E-rank hunters executed their morning routines with practiced motions, some still bleary-eyed from sleep yet moving with a natural grace he'd never known. Even the newest recruits—barely a week past their awakening ceremonies—showed more instinctive connection with their chosen weapons.
The System's suggestion stung worse than his aching muscles. Five years of training—of rising before dawn and practicing until his hands blistered and bled, of spending every spare credit on tutorials and equipment—and the System itself was suggesting he give up.
Just like everyone else had.
"Kael, you've got determination. Nobody can deny that. But maybe—just maybe—the [Swordsman] class isn't your calling." Master Lin's gentle words from yesterday's evaluation session echoed in his mind. "There's no shame in class reassignment. Many successful hunters find their true potential only after trying multiple paths."
He let his arm drop, sweat dripping onto the training ground's worn stones despite the morning chill. His status window flickered to life, its pristine blue interface a mockery of his dreams:
[Kael Tercel]
[Rank: E]
[Class: Swordsman]
[Level: 12]
[HP: 642/642]
[Title: None]
[Special Skills:]
Five years. Level 12. Most awakened reached that within months, not half a decade. Some of the recruits who had started with him were already C-rank, their skills advancing with a natural ease that made his struggle all the more painful. And yet—
He couldn't let go. Not of the image burned into his mind that day in the town square. Not of the Sword Saint's blade moving like it was part of his body, channeling energy as naturally as breathing. Not of his promise to become just like that—a hero who could protect others from the horrors that poured through the gates.
"Once more," he muttered, raising his sword despite the trembling in his exhausted arms. "Just once more."
"Tercel!" The call came from across the training yard, cutting through his concentration. "Get moving! Guild assignment!"
Kael sheathed his sword with a sigh that carried five years of disappointment. He grabbed his worn leather armor—the E-rank certification mark glowing dully in the pre-dawn light—and hurried toward the guild hall. The Crystal Ascendancy's towering structure dominated this quarter of Auren, its hardlight constructs and mana-forged steel reflecting the city's eternal neon glow. Inside, hunters of various ranks gathered for their daily assignments, their certification marks creating a hierarchy of light that separated the gifted from the rest.
"Ah, our resident determined ." Marcus's voice carried that familiar edge of pity wrapped in condescension. The C-rank [Spearman] stood with their assigned team, his well-maintained armor gleaming under the guild hall's crystal lights. A spare spear hung at his back, its quality making Kael's own blade look like scrap metal in comparison. "Still grinding away at level 12, I see."
"Good morning to you too, Marcus," Kael replied, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. They'd started the academy together five years ago. While Marcus had risen through the ranks with natural talent, Kael had remained firmly rooted at the bottom.
"I'm serious, Kael," Marcus said, his voice dropping so others couldn't hear. "We used to talk about reaching A-rank together, remember? Eight more levels until you can choose an advanced class and get out of this trap... at this rate, you'll be forty before—"
"Team assignments are final," Enforcer Lee interrupted, her augmented visor scanning the gathered hunters. Her telekinetic field crackled with barely contained power—another reminder of what real talent looked like. "Save the career counseling for after the mission."
"What's the assignment?" Kael asked, grateful for the interruption.
"Blackspire Dungeon." Marcus checked his wrist terminal. "E-rank clearance, standard sweep. Should be easy enough, even for you."
There it was again. Even for you. Like he was a child being given the simplest task so he wouldn't feel left out.
The briefing was quick and professional. Standard formation—E-ranks in the rear, providing support only when called. Kael had done enough of these to know his role: stay back, try not to die, maybe get lucky and gain some experience points. The usual dance of mediocrity.
"Hey," a soft voice said as they filed out. Mina, another E-rank with the class, fell into step beside him. Unlike him, she'd only awakened last year, her progress considered perfectly normal. "Don't let Marcus get to you. Some people bloom later than others."
"It's been five years, Mina," Kael replied, checking his worn equipment one last time. "At this rate, I'll be forty before I hit level 20 and can finally choose a different path."
She gave him a sympathetic smile. "The advanced class selection is worth waiting for, though. My cousin reached level 20 last month, and his options expanded from to , , or even."
"I know the theory," he said, trying not to sound bitter. "The question is whether I'll survive long enough stuck as an E-rank [Swordsman] to reach that point."
"Have you tried specialty training? I heard the Academy offers intensive courses that can help boost leveling speed for... well, for people who struggle with their initial class."
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
He'd heard that too. Remedial classes, they called them unofficially. Special training for those who couldn't hack it the normal way. "I've tried everything, Mina. The System awakened me as a [Swordsman], and I'm stuck with it until level 20."
The dungeon entrance yawned before them, ancient stone threaded with crystal formations that hummed with trapped mana. Cool air wafted from its depths, carrying the metallic tang of concentrated energy. Their team of six moved in practiced formation, light sources creating overlapping pools of illumination.
"First chamber clear," Marcus called out after a thorough sweep. "Standard crystal growth, no signs of recent breach activity."
They progressed deeper, each chamber taking them further from the surface. The temperature dropped steadily, their breath forming small clouds in the increasingly dense mana atmosphere. Crystal formations grew more pronounced, their surfaces reflecting the team's lights in fractured patterns that made threat assessment challenging.
Kael's hand rested on his sword hilt, fingers tracing the cheap engravings he'd added himself—small symbols of protection etched at significant cost. He'd compensated for his lack of natural talent with meticulous preparation and study. While other E-ranks might have better instincts, few could match his knowledge of dungeon ecology or crystal beast behavior patterns.
The first sign of trouble came three chambers in. A lesser crystal beast—barely worth mentioning in the logs—burst from a seemingly solid wall. The team dispatched it with practiced efficiency, though Kael's sword barely scratched its hide despite his textbook-perfect strike. He tried not to notice how easily Marcus's spear had penetrated the creature's defenses, or how even the other E-ranks managed more damage than his technically correct but somehow ineffective swings.
"Your form was perfect," Mina whispered as they moved on. "I've been watching you train sometimes. You execute every movement exactly as the manuals describe."
"And yet..." Kael gestured to the minimal experience points added to his log.
"Yet," she agreed, with no solution to offer.
"Stay focused," the team leader called out. "Readings show increased mana density ahead. Possible boss chamber."
The massive doors loomed before them, their crystalline surface reflecting distorted versions of the team. Ancient runes pulsed with trapped power, warning of what waited beyond. Standard procedure was to send in the E-ranks first—expendable scouts to trigger any traps or ambushes. Everyone knew it, though no one said it aloud.
"Tercel, you're up," Marcus said, not quite meeting his eyes. There was something there—pity? Concern? "Standard sweep pattern. Signal if you spot anything unusual."
Kael nodded, ignoring the whispers as he stepped forward. "Poor bastard," "Should have switched classes years ago," "Waste of a good system registration..."
He gripped his sword tighter, trying to ignore how the cheap metal felt wrong in his hands. Five years of failure couldn't quite kill the spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, this would be the day something changed. He stepped forward, the doors swinging open with ominous grace.
The chamber beyond was vast, its ceiling lost in crystal-studded darkness. Massive formations jutted from walls and floor, creating a natural arena that hummed with concentrated mana. His boots crunched on crystal shards as he moved forward, senses straining for any sign of—
The Manticore's crystalline claws tore through the air where his head had been a heartbeat before. Kael dove sideways, his [Basic Swordsmanship] barely allowing him to bring his blade up in time to deflect a secondary swipe. The beast was beautiful in its deadly perfection—crystal plates forming natural armor across rippling muscle, amber eyes blazing with predatory intelligence.
"Contact!" he shouted, backpedaling as the monster pressed its attack. "D-rank Manticore! Need support!"
But even as the words left his mouth, he knew something was wrong. The creature's movements were too precise, its attacks too coordinated. Its mana signature pulsed with power that no D-rank should possess. This thing was at least C-rank, maybe even—
The realization came too late. Pain lanced through Kael's chest as crystalline claws found their mark, shredding his cheap armor like soggy paper. His blood sprayed across the ancient stone in a crimson arc as his sword clattered from nerveless fingers.
The team's reaction was immediate. Not help—retreat. He heard the scramble of boots, Marcus barking evacuation orders. Mina's voice reached him, high and panicked: "KAEL! NO!"
But even she wasn't coming back for him. The standard protocol was crystal clear: sacrifice the expendable. The weakest link. The E-rank who couldn't even perform basic [Sword Energy] techniques correctly. After all, why waste resources on saving the lowest-ranked member of a clearing party?
He'd been sent in first—the perfect scout, the perfect sacrifice. Bait.
[Critical Wound Detected]
[HP: 12/642]
[Status: Near Death]
Kael crashed to his knees, blood bubbling between his lips as he stared at the creature stalking toward him. The Manticore—this impossible monster that shouldn't be here—regarded him with almost contemptuous amber eyes. Its crystal-encrusted tail swished lazily behind it, taking its time with its cornered prey.
"It hurts..." he gasped, one hand pressed futilely against the gaping wound in his chest. "Am I going to die? Like this?"
Twenty years old. Five years of training. Nothing to show for it.
Hot tears mingled with the blood on his face. Not tears of pain, but of pure, undiluted rage. All those predawn mornings. All those blistered hands. All those sneers and pitying looks.
"I don't want to die," he sobbed, his voice breaking as the Manticore circled him. "I want to live! EVERYONE LEFT ME!" His scream echoed through the chamber, raw with years of bottled frustration. "I'm just expendable. I'm so worthless. Please..."
The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as he struggled to breathe through shredded lungs. "It hurts..." he gasped, one trembling hand pressed futilely against the gaping wound in his chest, warm blood pulsing between his fingers with each failing heartbeat. "Am I going to die? Like this?"
Through the haze of agony, he could see them—silhouettes backlit by the chamber entrance. Watching. Waiting for him to die so they could report back: "E-rank loss, monster difficulty assessment updated." Just another statistic.
"WHY?" he screamed, blood spraying from his lips as the word tore from his ruined lungs. "WHY IS IT ME? WHY DO I HAVE NO TALENT? WHY IS IT THAT ONLY I CAN'T ADVANCE?"
The Manticore's crystalline fangs gleamed as it lunged forward, jaws stretching impossibly wide.
"GODDAMNIT!" Kael roared, his fingers clawing desperately at the stone floor. "DAMN ALL OF YOU!"
The beast's fangs found his throat, crystalline points puncturing flesh with terrible precision. Blood fountained from the wound, each heartbeat pushing more of his life away.
[Status: Dead]
As darkness consumed him, a voice—ancient and amused—whispered through the void.
"You want to live, huh? Seems you'll be a good source of entertainment."
The voice chuckled, a sound like grinding crystal.
"Well then, continue, warrior. Show me what you can do."
[System Notification: Loop Activated]
[Note: Time is a circle, little swordsman. Let's see how many times you can walk it before you learn your true path.]
The notification flickered across his vision like a broken hologram, the message corrupted and glitching. He couldn't make sense of the words before everything went black.
Kael jerked awake in his bed, sweat-soaked sheets tangled around him. Pale sunlight filtered through cracked windows, illuminating the same musty apartment he could barely afford on an E-rank Hunter's wages. The same apartment he'd been stuck in since that day five years ago, when he'd first awakened as a [Swordsman] and thought his dreams were finally within reach.
"What... the hell was that?" He pressed a trembling hand to his throat, finding only smooth skin where monster fangs had torn through flesh. "Felt so real..."
His status window flickered to life, the System's blue interface as mockingly pristine as ever:
[Kael Tercel]
[Rank: E]
[Class: Swordsman]
[HP: 642/642]
[Title: The Nameless One's Entertainment]
[Status: Temporarily Not Dead]
[Advanced Class Selection: Available at Level 20]
[New Skill Unlocked: ???]
In the shadows of his mind, ancient laughter echoed. It reminded him of the day he'd first awakened his class—full of promise and potential, right before reality came crashing down.
The true nightmare was just beginning. Or perhaps, finally, his real story could start.