The void wasn't dark. It was a suffocating, blinding blur of silver mist and muffled whispers, like listening to someone scream underwater.
Deep within that fog, a voice broke through. It didn't sound like the raspy shrieks of the slum goons or the cold, indifferent tone of the orphanage dean. It was soft, trembling, and drenched in a kind of agony that made Aaron's chest ache with an unbearable phantom pain.
<"I'm sorry, my baby... I'm so, so sorry... Please... forgive your mother...">
A warm drop fell against his cheek.
'Who's crying? Aaron reached out with numb, weightless hands in the dark. Don't cry... please... who are you?'
Gasp.
Aaron's eyes tore open.His lungs expanded violently, dragging in a lungful of air so crisp, pure, and cold it stung the back of his throat. He sat bolt upright, his hands instantly clawing at the ground beneath him in pure, conditioned panic. He expected the damp, mold-slick gravel of the fifth-floor wolf den. He expected the sickening stench of pooled blood, rotting carcass meat, and stagnant dungeon air.
Instead, his palms grazed smooth, flawless stone. It was cool to the touch, perfectly flat, and radiated a faint, rhythmic vibration, like resting a hand against the chest of a sleeping giant.
Tears—hot, bitter, and unbidden—streaked down his grime-caked cheeks. He wiped them away with the back of his rough, calloused forearm, his breath coming in jagged, uneven hitches.
"The hell was that...?" he muttered, his voice cracking. "A lady? Crying for me?"
He scoffed, though the sound caught painfully in his dry throat. A mother? He didn't have one. Nobody who had a mother ended up eating half-rotten turnip peels from the trash behind a butcher shop or taking iron-toed boots to the ribs for failing to steal a noble's coin purse.
"Forget it. Keep your head straight, Aaron," he rasped, shaking his head until his skull stopped throbbing. "First things first. Where the fuck am I?"
He forced himself to his feet, expecting the familiar, blinding agony of torn shoulder muscles and shattered collarbones.
Nothing.
He glanced down, his eyes widening. His left sleeve was shredded to ribbons, stiff with crusty black blood, but underneath the torn cloth, his skin was spotless. Not a single puncture mark. Not even a scar where the beast's serrated fangs had ground against his bone. Even the older scars—the whip marks from the slum bosses, the burn mark from an overturned oil lamp three winters ago—were completely smoothed out, replaced by pale, healthy flesh.
Aaron slowly looked up, and whatever breath he had left vanished entirely.
He was standing on a colossal, circular dais carved from a single slab of luminescent white crystalline marble. Veins of iridescent gold coursed beneath the polished surface, pulsing with a slow, hypnotic rhythm.
Surrounding him was a world that defied all reason.
This wasn't a damp cavern. It wasn't a dungeon floor in any sense he had ever heard of.
Rising before him, piercing a sky painted in hues of twilight violet and liquid gold, stood a monolithic fortress. Its towers were carved from seamless, dark obsidian and laced with pale blue crystal that hummed with pure, terrifying energy. The scale of the architecture was grotesque in its grandeur—arched gates large enough to allow a legion of dragons to march through shoulder to shoulder, walls so high they vanished into the perpetual, glowing aurora drifting lazily across the ceiling of the realm.
Sprawling outward from the base of the citadel was an immense courtyard garden. Towering flora—bioluminescent blossoms the size of carriages, glowing with soft cerulean and crimson light—wept shimmering spores into the air. Crystalline vines crept up marble pillars, bearing fruits that looked like polished gems.
Behind the fortress, stretching as far as his eyes could strain, was an endless, primeval forest. Giant trees with canopies wider than slum districts stood like ancient sentinels. Yet, for all its verdant, intoxicating beauty, the realm possessed an eerie, absolute stillness.
No birds chirped. No insects hummed in the glowing underbrush. No predatory growls echoed between the colossal trees. There was only the gentle, whistling breeze and the deep, sub-audible hum of the world itself. It was a garden of gods, pristine, untouched, and utterly abandoned.
"What is this place...?" Aaron whispered, taking an involuntary step back. His worn boot tapped against the crystalline floor, the sound echoing hollowly across the vast expanse.
{Ding}
A sharp, chime rang directly inside his skull.
Aaron flinched, instinctively dropping into a low crouch, his hands reaching for the rusted sword he'd dropped during the wolf fight. His weapon was gone, but before he could panic, a translucent pane of pale gold and cerulean light flickered into existence right in front of his eyes.
{Ding... Displaying Comprehensive Status}
============================================================
[ STATUS INTERFACE ]
Name: Aaron (???)
Age: 15
Race: Human (???)
Existence Tier: Awakened — Tier 0
Physique: Unawakened (Dormant)
Bloodline: Unawakened (Sealed)
Traits:
• Creation (Rank: ???) [Sealed / Stage 1]
• Unyielding Will (Rank: Epic)
• Vector Manipulation (Rank: Legendary)
Skills: None
Combat Power: E- ( lower than average adult)
Remark:
"Weakest of the weak. A determined toddler with a wooden spoon could theoretically end your lineage. Do not trip on your own shoelaces."
===================================================
Aaron stared at the floating words, his mind short-circuiting.
"I... I awakened?"
The words came out as a breathless croak. Then, louder, bouncing off the silent marble pillars: "I fucking AWAKENED?!"
His knees gave out, and he hit the polished floor hard, his hands trembling violently. For five long years, he had been the trash of the gutter. The unawakened freak. The boy who missed the divine ten-year mark while every spoiled merchant brat and common street kid unlocked some minor spark of strength, agility, or basic magic.
"You're broken, Aaron. You're a waste of rations," the dean's voice echoed in his memory, sour and venomous.
"I'm not broken," Aaron whispered, his fists clenching so hard his nails bit into his palms. "I'm not a mistake." As tears flowed down his eyes when he remembered those words.Then he resolutely wiped his tears and focused on the screen.
From his gathered knowledge during his stay in slums he knew that this status screen follows certain rules.He dragged his thumb through the air, realizing the screen tracked his intent. As he scrolled backward through the raw data logs, the brutal truth laid itself bare.
In Tetheris, a normal child's core only needed to passively absorb ambient environmental mana for ten years to unlock a single, standard-grade Trait—Iron Skin, Flame Spark, Swift Step. Common things.
Aaron hadn't awakened at ten because his soul wasn't carrying a single spark. It had been carrying three absolute monsters of conceptual power. His mortal, malnourished body simply couldn't gather enough environmental mana to satisfy the absurd threshold required to ignite even one of them, let alone three. It took five extra years of brutal physical endurance, capped off by the life-or-death slaughter of two fifth-floor black-fang beasts, to finally force enough kinetic and life energy into his core to cross the ignition point.
"Three traits..." Aaron stared at the screen, a crazed, breathless grin breaking across his bruised face. "Three fucking traits?!??"
In the Ignaris Kingdom, only the direct bloodlines of High Nobles and Royal Scions occasionally awakened dual traits, and even then, one was almost always an auxiliary support type.
Three traits. One Epic. One Legendary. And one marked with question marks that practically bled divine authority.
'Only those absolute freaks in the IGNARIS ROYAL ACADEMY possessed the legendary rank trait, though i don't knoe what this question marks mean...'
' But aren't there too many question marks in my panel?!?'
Aaron thought as his lips twitched with annoyance as seeing the question marks beside his name and race cretainly confirm that his origin is not simple.
' That's why maybe i can take more beating by the slum thugs..'
He thought with a dry chuckle.
Then forcing his racing pulse to settle. "First rule of the slums: don't celebrate until you've checked the exits. Let's see what these actually do."
He focused his intent on the first trait.
============================================================
[ TRAIT DETAILS: CREATION (Rank: ???) ]
• Description:
An incomprehensible authority allowing the user to bring any
concept into reality, ranging from physical objects and matter
to abstract constructs such as power system, arts, skills, bloodlines, physiques, traits, or entire living species.
• Mechanics:
Execution relies on finite 'Creation Nodules.' Each nodule
represents a singular, permanent act of structural manifestation.
The scope of creation is bounded strictly by the user's
understanding, imagination, and existence tolerance.
• Current Status:
Stage 1 — Infant Creator
Imagination Stability: 3%
Available Creation Nodules: 100
============================================================
Aaron's jaw dropped. "A trait... that can create other traits? Bloodlines? Living things?"
The concept was so absurd it bordered on blasphemy. If a single High Mage in the capital found out an unranked slum rat held the power to fabricate reality from thin air, they would tear the empire apart just to vivisect him on an altar.He quickly shifted his gaze to the second trait.
============================================================
[ TRAIT DETAILS: UNYIELDING WILL (Rank: Epic) ]
• Description:
A survival-oriented authority that allows the user to persist
beyond biological and mental collapse through sheer refusal to cease.
• Effects:
1. Grants 50% resistance to psychological pressure, fear,
and intimidation-based auras.
2. Overrides natural physical shutdown mechanisms during fatal trauma,
delaying death and total collapse at severe post-conflict cost.
3. When near death, grants 'Survival Apex': +30% sensory clarity,
+30% reaction speed, and +10% critical strike probability.
============================================================
"A pure survival skill," Aaron muttered, nodding slowly. This was how he had stayed alive. This was the exact reason his body hadn't given up when the wolf was crushing his collarbone.
Finally, his eyes locked onto the third trait.
============================================================
[ TRAIT DETAILS: VECTOR MANIPULATION (Rank: Legendary) ]
• Description:
A high-tier physical authority that grants the user the ability
to perceive, calculate, and manipulate the direction and magnitude
of vectors (motion, kinetic energy, velocity, and force trajectories).
• Scope:
Allows the user to alter, reflect, amplify, or nullify physical
forces within their direct sensory perception range.
• Constraints:
Does not affect stationary, static objects. Effectiveness is bound
by cognitive processing speed, mathematical calculation capacity, and physical recoil tolerance.
============================================================
Aaron scratched the back of his neck, his brows furrowing into a tight knot. "Vector...? What the hell is a vector?"
His street education was limited to counting coins, reading shop signs, and recognizing which alleyways smelled like fresh blood. He had no idea what 'magnitude' or 'force trajectories' meant in academic terms. But as he stared at the words 'direction of motion' and 'reflecting physical forces,' an instinctive shiver ran down his spine.
If someone throws a punch at me... I can change where that punch goes? If an arrow flies at my chest, I can turn it around?
"Holy sh-," he muttered. "I need books. I need to learn how the hell this works. But right now..."
GURRRRRRLE.
His stomach let out a violent, agonized roar that echoed off the white marble.
The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving behind a hollow, ravenous hunger that made his vision swim with black spots. His mouth felt like dry sandpaper, his tongue swollen and parched. He hadn't had a proper meal in three days, and his awakening had drained every ounce of stored calories his body possessed.
"Water... food..."
Aaron looked back at the first panel.
Available Creation Nodules: 100.
"It said any physical object, right?" Aaron swallowed dryly, his mind desperately visualizing the lavish roasted meats he'd seen through the windows of noble taverns, and the clear, cold water drawn from mountain wells.
He focused every shred of his will on the system interface."Creation," he spoke aloud, his voice steadying. "Manifest one five-liter earthenware jug of clean drinking water, and one whole roasted lamb—seasoned, fully cooked, ten kilograms.
{Ding.}
|{ Creation Request Formulated }
• Target: 5L Purified Water, 10kg Cooked Lamb (Nutrient-Dense)
• Cost: 1 Creation Nodule
• Remaining Nodules After Operation: 99
• Proceed with Manifestation? [YES / NO]|
"Yes! Do it!"
FLASH—!
A blinding sphere of warm, golden-white light materialized two feet off the ground in front of him. Space warped with a low, resonant hummm, and the scent of ozone snapped through the air.
THUMP.
The light shattered into harmless sparks, leaving behind a heavy, glazed clay jug filled to the brim with crystal-clear water, sitting right beside a massive, steaming silver platter. Resting upon it was a magnificent, golden-brown roasted lamb, its skin crisp and glistening with rendered fat, rosemary, and sea salt, radiating a wave of mouth-watering heat.
Aaron didn't hesitate.
He lunged forward, grabbed the clay jug with both hands, and tilted it straight into his mouth.
Gulp. Gulp. Gulp. Gulp.
Cold, sweet, immaculate water poured down his throat, spilling over his chin and chest. He drained nearly half the jug in a single, desperate breath before slamming it down with a heavy clack.
"Haaah... fuck, that's good."
Without waiting, he tore into the meat. His fingers sank through the crispy skin into tender, steaming meat that practically fell off the bone. He ripped a massive shank free and bit into it savagely.
The rich, savory fat and tender meat burst across his tongue. It was undeniably the greatest thing he had ever tasted in his fifteen years of miserable existence. He ate like a starving predator, tearing off chunks with his teeth, swallowing without fully chewing, wiping grease from his mouth with the back of his dirty hand. He didn't care about manners. In the slums, if you didn't swallow your food in five seconds, someone bigger took it from you.
Within fifteen minutes, the platter held nothing but clean, stripped white bones.
Aaron fell back against the marble floor, his stomach full and heavy, letting out a long, satisfied groan. For the first time in his life, he felt warm. Truly warm. Not the fleeting comfort of a stolen blanket, but a deep, foundational vitality spreading through his veins.
"Ninety-nine uses left," he muttered, staring up at the shifting aurora across the ceiling. "I can make traits. I can make physiques. I can make—"
A sudden, chilling draft brushed against the back of his neck.
Aaron's entire body froze.
The ambient temperature of the grand courtyard dropped instantly, the air growing so dense it felt like lead pressing against his chest. His heart hammered violently against his ribs as his survival instincts screamed at him to move.
He pushed himself up slowly, his breath catching in his throat, and turned toward the western edge of the crystalline dais.
Standing atop the ruins of an ancient marble archway, forty paces away, was a figure.She stood completely motionless against the backdrop of the twilight sky. Her hair was a torrent of vivid, molten crimson that cascaded past her waist, swaying gently in the wind like living fire. She wore form-fitting, dark attire accented with intricate gold trim, accentuating a silhouette of breathtaking, otherworldly grace.
Her skin was as pale as porcelain, but it was her eyes that held Aaron paralyzed.
They were deep, glowing ruby pools—ancient, razor-sharp, and devoid of fear. She wasn't looking at him with anger. She wasn't looking at him with hatred.
She was looking down at him with quiet, predatory curiosity.
As if she were examining a bizarre, impossible insect that had somehow crawled into the heart of an untouchable sanctuary.