The walk to the village center was suffocatingly quiet.
As Lexel strode down the main thoroughfare, the only sound was the rhythmic crunch of his boots on the gravel and the soft, nervous breathing of the blacksmith walking a half-step behind him. The air was thick, heavy with the metallic tang of dried blood and the ozone scent of lingering Aether.
He could feel eyes on him.
Faces peeked out from behind cracked shutters and half-closed doors—eyes wide with a mixture of primal terror and crushing guilt. They didn't just see the man who had slaughtered their old Chief, Teddy, and the Guild Leader, Goro. They saw the man who had stood alone against the Dark Mantis, a creature that had turned their strongest warriors into paste.
But more importantly, they saw Anthierin.
The woman they had dragged to the execution block was walking freely, her head held high, and her executioner was walking beside her like a guardian demon. They were terrified of retribution. They knew, with the instinctive cowardice of a mob, that if Lexel decided to burn this village to the ground for what they had done, no one could stop him.
"They're afraid of you," Anthierin murmured.
She kept her gaze fixed on the back of Lexel's jacket, refusing to look at the faces of her former neighbors. She knew them all. She had fixed their plows, sharpened their knives, and shod their horses. And they had all chanted for her death.
"Let them be," Lexel said, a cold smirk playing on his lips as he stared straight ahead. "Fear keeps them honest. Yesterday they wanted your blood; today they're praying I don't take theirs."
He didn't hate them. Hate required effort. He viewed them as he viewed the bugs in the forest—insignificant, reactionary, and only dangerous in large numbers.
They reached the village hall. It was a modest wooden structure, battered by the recent chaos, but in the center of the courtyard stood a stone monument that seemed entirely out of place in such a run-down settlement.
It was a statue of a woman, carved from white marble that refused to hold the dirt of the village. She was draped in flowing stone robes, her face hidden behind a carved veil that suggested mystery rather than modesty. One hand was raised in an eternal blessing, while the other clutched a stone tablet to her chest.
Faint traces of Aether hummed around it, vibrating in the air like a plucked string. It was the only pure thing in Bevil Village.
Lexel walked up to it, stopping just outside the circle of holy ground. He read the inscription chiseled into the base.
Goddess of Aether.
"Remember, Lexel," Anthierin said, her voice dropping to a reverent whisper. "Just close your eyes and feel. Don't force it. The Goddess will guide you to the correct path."
Lexel nodded. He stepped forward, his hand outstretched. "Right. The path."
He didn't bother with a prayer. He didn't bow his head. He simply reached out and placed his palm on the statue's cold stone feet.
Thump.
The sound wasn't audible to the ears. It was a vibration that started in the soles of their feet and rattled the teeth in their skulls.
Thump.
The gravel in the courtyard began to dance, skittering away from Lexel as if the stones themselves were afraid to touch him.
Thump.
Anthierin furrowed her brows. She had seen Awakenings before. Usually, the statue would glow with a soft white light, and the user would look peaceful. This... this felt heavy. And it was taking too long.
Oh, right, she realized. He forgot the most important part.
"Hey, Lexel," she called out, reaching her hand toward his shoulder to correct him. "I think you forgot to kn—"
The sentence died in her throat.
An atomic pressure descended on her shoulders.
It wasn't wind. It wasn't magic. It was pure, unadulterated Authority.
Anthierin's pupils trembled, shrinking to pinpricks. The air was squeezed out of her lungs in a single, painful gasp. Her knees hit the ground with a violence that suggested gravity had suddenly called in a life debt, and it wasn't just her.
Outside the courtyard, the villagers peering through the holes in their walls and the cracks in their windows suffered the same fate. Within a hundred-meter radius, every living soul was forced to the dirt.
W-What's going on?! Anthierin screamed internally, her mind racing as she struggled to keep her face out of the mud.
She could barely hear the muffled cries of the villagers outside, their voices choked off by the crushing weight. Through her watering eyes, she could only see one thing standing.
Lexel's boots.
He hadn't moved. He hadn't buckled. The pressure that was flattening the village wasn't affecting him at all. In fact, it seemed to be coming from him.
A Job Class wasn't just about the profession. It was about the "Class" of someone's existence—the hierarchy of their soul. And at this moment, Bevil Village was tasting the iron reality of a being that stood violently above them.
The sky reacted first. The midday sun was choked out as bruised, unnatural clouds swirled into existence, turning the day into a twilight of grey and red. The wind howled, shaking the timber of the village hall.
In the nearby forest, the natural order shattered. Birds fell from the sky. Wolves, bears, and deer—predator and prey alike—scattered in a frantic stampede, running not away from a fire, but away from the presence that had just woken up in the village square. It was the beginning of the end.
Far away, across the winding rivers and the dense canopy of trees, deep in the jungle of the Unknown, a small wooden shack sat covered in moss.
Inside, an old hermit with haggard clothing and a beard that reached his waist sat in the lotus position. He had been meditating for three days, his breathing so shallow he appeared dead.
Suddenly, his eyes snapped open.
"Hm?"
He looked toward the north, his ancient eyes narrowing. The birds in his jungle were silent. The insects had stopped buzzing.
Hundreds of miles away, at the precipice of a mountain range that scraped the clouds, the air was thin and cold.
A woman with long, flowing blonde hair stood at the edge of the cliff, looking out over the sea of clouds. She wore armor that gleamed like sunlight, and a massive greatsword was strapped to her back.
She crossed her arms, her brows furrowing as a shiver ran up her spine. It wasn't the cold.
What is this sensation?
She clenched her fists, the leather of her gauntlets creaking.
This is the third time I've felt this. It's not normal. Something is definitely going on.
She looked toward the distant horizon, her blue eyes searching for a threat she couldn't see but could definitely feel.
Meanwhile, deep within the ruins of the Sunken Fortress, a group of high-level adventurers was running for their lives.
"Move! Move! The Fire Stallion is going to trample us!" the Scout screamed, vaulting over a piece of fallen masonry.
"I can't hold aggro!" the Tank yelled, his shield battered and dented. "There are too many of them!"
They turned a corner, bracing for the impact of the flaming monster chasing them. But when the Tank looked back, ready to die, he froze.
The Fire Stallion, a beast known for its mindless aggression, had stopped. It stared toward the west, its ears pinned back. Then, with a whinny of pure terror, it turned around and bolted. It wasn't chasing them anymore. It was running away.
Behind it, slimes, goblins, and dungeon bats were fleeing in the same direction, ignoring the adventurers entirely.
"What's going on?" the Mage gasped, leaning against a wall. "Why are they running?"
Back in front of the Goddess of Aether statue, the world was ending, but Lexel was just getting started.
His hair fluttered wildly, whipped by an aura that poured off him like steam. His eyes now glowed with the intensity of molten lava—the same arrogant, burning gaze of his father, the Zodiac Emperor.
The blue system windows that usually welcomed new users were flickering violently, unable to process the density of his soul.
[WARNING.][WARNING.]
The Anti-System roared into life. The polite blue notifications shattered, replaced by aggressive, jagged red text that burned into Lexel's retina.
[System Override Complete.]
[Special Class Generated.]
[Class: War God Scion] [Rank: I Class]
[Description: One of the three Forbidden Special Classes. The War God Scion is the child of the War Goddess Cecile and the Zodiac Emperor Lyon. You do not learn war; you are war. Among the Three Great Lineages, this is the supreme combatant—the master of all tools of destruction.]
Lexel watched the text scroll by, a grin splitting his face.
[Job Class Passive Unlocked: The Arsenal]
[Effect 1] Wielding any weapon increases its physical damage output by 100%.[Effect 2] Wearing any armor increases all provided stats by 100%.Due to the excessive force applied by the User, the Lifespan/Durability of any low rank item is greatly reduced.
Lexel raised an eyebrow. "So I hit twice as hard, but my toys break twice as fast? I guess that's fair."
He focused his mind, willing his internal interface to open. The darkness of his mindscape appeared, revealing the familiar Will of Torga skill tree.
The vast majority of the grid had been shrouded in grey fog, locked away from him. But now, a massive section of the clouds tore open.
A new node pulsated there—a jagged, crimson sword icon that looked like it was bleeding.
[Node Unlocked: Arsenal]
The power rushed into him, filling his veins with hot lead. He squeezed his fist, and the air popped audibly, creating a vacuum that finally ceased the pressure on the village.
The storm clouds dissipated as quickly as they had arrived. The wind died. The birds began to sing again, though they sounded nervous.
Lexel exhaled, the red glow fading from his eyes. But before he could step away, a new notification chimed.
[Daily Quest Unlocked]
[Quest: Blood for the Machine]
[Objective: Kill one entity.]
[Reward: Small HP Potion.]
Lexel stared at the screen. Kill one? Just one?
Daily Quest? Lexel thought, rubbing his chin. Dad did mention this. He said the System tries to gamify your life to keep you docile. Looks like the Job Class was the trigger for this little chore.
"Hah... hah... hah..."
The sound of desperate gasping drew his attention back to reality.
Anthierin was on her hands and knees, her face pale, sweat dripping from her nose. She trembled as she forced herself to stand, her legs shaking like a newborn deer's.
"Lexel..." she moaned, clutching her chest. "What... what was that?"
Lexel turned to her, his expression the picture of innocence. He tilted his head.
"What?"
"There was an earthquake!" Anthierin shouted, her voice cracking. "A storm! The gravity... it felt like the sky fell on us! And the statue..." She pointed a shaking finger at the Goddess.
Lexel looked back. The stone tablet in the Goddess's hand now had a hairline crack running down the middle.
"Must be old stonework," Lexel shrugged.
"Lexel!" Anthierin grabbed his collar, though her grip was weak. "What Job Class did you get? That wasn't normal! A Job Class Awakening doesn't make the wolves run away!"
Lexel looked down at her. Her green eyes were wide, searching for answers.
Should I tell her? He considered it. Is there any harm?
She wouldn't understand what a 'Scion' was. To her, the War Goddess was a myth, and the Zodiac Emperor was a fairy tale. Telling her the truth would only break her brain.
"Well," Lexel said, smoothing his collar. "It's a Fighter class."
Anthierin froze. She blinked once, twice. Then she let go of him, her shoulders slumping.
"Ooo, a [Fighter]," she said, rolling her eyes so hard it looked painful. "You caused a natural disaster just to become a glorified brawler? Why didn't you choose a Monk? After all those worries!"
"The Goddess has her ways," Lexel lied smoothly. "I guess I'm just destined to punch things."
"Well, it is what it is," Anthierin sighed, wiping the dirt from her knees. "At least you have a class now. You won't die immediately."
"Anyway, Anthierin."
"Rin is fine," she mumbled, adjusting her belt.
"E-hmm. Rin." Lexel's tone shifted. The playfulness vanished, replaced by a sudden intensity. "Are you planning to stay in Bevil Village?"
Anthierin paused. She looked around the square. The villagers were starting to pick themselves up from the dirt, dusting off their clothes. They cast fearful, side-long glances at her, but none of them approached.
This was her home. She had been born here. Her father's forge was here.
But yesterday, these people had cheered as a death was approaching.
"I..." Anthierin looked at her hands. "I don't know."
Lexel stepped in. He didn't give her time to doubt. He reached out, grabbing her upper arms with a grip that was firm but not painful. He pulled her close, forcing her to look up at him.
Their faces were inches apart. He could smell the sweat and iron on her skin.
"Join me," Lexel said.
It wasn't a question. It was a command wrapped in an invitation.
"Huh?" Anthierin's breath hitched, a flush creeping up her neck that had nothing to do with the exertion.