CHAPTER ONE
"Welcome to the Enlistment Alliance for Fyrgen Kind—also known as E.A.F.K. All candidates are to remain in straight lines. The examinations will commence shortly."
The voice echoed from dozens of metallic speakers mounted at sharp angles across the massive registration hall. It was cold, emotionless, and impossible to ignore.
People from every class of society filled the space—royalty draped in embroidered silks, nobles wearing polished coats and gemstones, wealthy merchants flashing gold-threaded fabrics, and peasants clad in plain, faded attire. Despite their differences, they all stood shoulder to shoulder now, united by anticipation…and fear.
The air buzzed with low chatter. Some laughed too loudly to hide their nerves. Others stood in silence, fists clenched, eyes forward. Tension hung thick in the hall, yet beneath it was a strange sense of welcome—as if this place promised salvation to those deemed worthy.
The ceramic-tiled floor gleamed beneath the overhead lights. Brown-painted walls were adorned with large, golden-framed portraits of past heroes—figures frozen in triumphant poses. At the very center of the hall stood a towering statue of a knight, blade raised toward the ceiling.
Carved into the stone beneath it were the words:
THE SAVIOR
Soldiers stood guard at strategic corners of the hall, their expressions sharp and unreadable. Each held an electrocution staff planted firmly against the ground, a silent warning to anyone thinking of causing trouble.
That was when Luke Asvigard stepped inside.
He wore black leather pants and a fitted leather jacket over a white shirt, heavy boots striking softly against the tiled floor. His black hair fell naturally, untamed but neat. His eyes—dark and gloomy, like a starless night—scanned the hall with quiet intensity.
His face showed nothing.
No excitement.
No fear.
No hope.
There are more people than I remember. He thought.
He glanced around.
Looks like they're desperate this time… or maybe I am.
His jaw tightened.
I just hope I survive it again.
"Hello there."
The sudden feminine voice behind him made him pause.
"Huh?" Luke turned.
A young woman stood there, smiling politely. She wore a bright orange dress that stood out against the darker tones of the hall. Her black hair was tied into a neat ponytail, and a small bag hung across her shoulder. Her dark eyes shimmered under the lights, curious but calm.
"My name is Lyra Regalia," she said. "Please, do you know the way to the registrar officials' hall?"
Luke studied her briefly.
"It's at the other end," he replied flatly, already turning away.
"Oh—thanks!" she said, then hesitated. "Are you here for the exams too?"
He stopped.
"Yeah," Luke answered. "Trying my luck again."
Her eyes widened slightly. "So you've been through the registration before?"
"Yeah."
There was something sharp in his tone—final.
Lyra blinked, then nodded. "I see."
Luke took a step forward, then added without looking back, "You should hurry. If your card doesn't get stamped, you'll be disqualified. I'll save you a spot in the queue."
"Oh—thank you!" she said warmly. "By the way… what's your name?"
"Luke," he replied. "Luke Asvigard."
And with that, he walked away
.
—FEW MONTHS AGO—
The emotionless man standing in the registration hall had not always been this way.
Once, Luke Asvigard had been hopeful.
He sat quietly in the reception room, fingers interlocked, heart pounding as names were called one after another. When his name was finally announced among the next twenty candidates, relief flooded through him.
The first phase was simple enough—a written assessment. He sat at his assigned desk, flipping through question papers, answering carefully, confidently.
"You may begin," the examiner said before exiting the room.
An hour later, the papers were collected.
Luke passed.
The second phase was different.
Candidates were escorted to the recruiting department, where cocoon-like chambers, cold and coffin-shaped waited in silence. They were designed to test whether one had awakened a System Link, the mark of a System Fyrgen.
Luke entered the chamber.
And nothing happened.
That evening, he worked his part-time job at a small restaurant, with a forced smile he served customers. By nightfall, exhaustion weighed heavily on him as he made his way home.
The door creaked open.
"Welcome home, big brother!"
Two small figures rushed toward him—his siblings.
Luke smiled genuinely as he patted their heads. "I'm home."
He set the bag of food on the table. "Dinner time."
"You're overworking yourself again," Gena said, frowning.
"If I don't do it, no one will," Luke replied softly.
"How was the exam?" Moses asked, mouth full of chips.
"It went well," Luke said. "Results should be out tomorrow."
"Are you going to make it this time?" Gena asked quietly.
Luke paused.
"Maybe."
The next day shattered everything.
Luke stood before the scoreboard, eyes locked onto the glowing screen.
Test Score: 90 / 100
System Link: NEGATIVE
Rank:None
Disqualified.
Despite his high academic score, he had failed again.
Mom… Dad… his chest tightened. If only you were here.
As he turned away, a chill crawled down his spine.
Someone was watching him.
A cloaked figure passed by, brushing close.
Its presence felt…wrong.
That night, Luke returned home.
The door swung open.
And the world ended.
Blood coated the walls. The floor. The air reeked of death.
"No…" Luke whispered, collapsing beside the lifeless bodies of his siblings. "No… no… no…"
Tears streamed freely as he held Gena close, her eyes empty.
"I'm sorry," he sobbed. "I should've been here…"
A presence filled the room.
Luke looked up.
The cloaked figure stood there, purple eyes glowing coldly beneath the hood.
"You…" Luke growled. "You did this."
Rage consumed him. "You took everything from me."
The figure drew a polished silver dagger.
It lunged.
Darkness swallowed Luke whole.