The air hung thick with the metallic tang of mana exhaust, a constant, low hum vibrating through the soles of Suka's worn boots. Five years. Five years since he'd woken in a strange bed, a stranger's memories his own, and the Blue Planet's brutal reality had punched him in the gut. Now, at twenty, he stood among a throng of hopefuls, the youngest barely sixteen, their faces alight with an eagerness he'd long since lost. This was his fourth attempt. The final one, if the whispers held any truth. After twenty, the window slammed shut.
A blue sphere, the size of a small moon, pulsed gently at the head of the line, suspended by unseen forces. Its surface shimmered, a liquid sapphire that seemed to drink the light from the cavernous awakening hall. This was the conduit, the UGS's manifestation, the gateway to power, to survival.
A boy, no older than sixteen, stepped forward. His hair, a shock of bright orange, seemed to vibrate with his excitement. He reached out, his hand trembling slightly, and pressed it against the sphere's cool, smooth surface. The blue pulsed, then intensified, drawing the boy's form into its brilliant glow. Energy arced, a silent crackle in the air. A broad smile split the boy's face as he pulled his hand away, his shoulders straighter, a new confidence in his stride. He moved off, joining the other newly awakened, a quiet buzz of chatter following him.
"Next."
The voice, flat and devoid of warmth, belonged to an administrator, a woman with tired eyes and a perpetually pursed mouth. She gestured with a tablet, her gaze briefly flicking to Suka. He was the oldest, most likely the last of his kind in this line.
Suka stepped forward, the low murmur of the crowd fading. He extended his hand, the calluses from years of shoveling mana crystals at the furnace rough against the smooth, cool surface of the sphere. Nothing. No brilliant flash, no surge of energy. The blue remained placid, indifferent. Three seconds passed. Then five. A cold dread seeped into Suka's gut. He pictured the furnace, the rhythmic clang of the shovels, the oppressive heat, the endless cycle. His life, a predictable, unyielding grind.
*This is it, then.*
He started to pull his hand away, a sigh catching in his throat. The administrator took a step closer, her brow furrowed.
Then, a jolt.
The sphere flared, a blinding nova of sapphire light that engulfed Suka, stealing the breath from his lungs. It wasn't the slow, gentle absorption the others experienced. This was a violent, explosive release, a silent scream of energy. The light pulsed once, twice, then vanished as abruptly as it appeared, leaving Suka blinking against the afterimage burned into his retinas. The air crackled, smelling faintly of ozone.
A translucent blue screen materialized before him, visible only to him. Its characters glowed with an ethereal light, stark against the muted hall.
**NAME: SUKA**
**CLASS: NECROMANCER**
**LEVEL: 1 (0/100 EXP)**
**STATS:**
**STRENGTH - 10 (100 Attack Power, +100% Critical Damage)**
**AGILITY - 10 (10 km/h, 10% Critical Chance)**
**INTELLIGENT - 10 (100 MP, 1 MP/10 sec)**
**CONSTITUTION - 10 (100 HP, 1 HP/10 sec, 10 Defense(Attack Negation))**
**SKILLS:**
**SKELETON SUMMON( F-RANK) - Use 100 MP to summon 1 skeleton, with stats of (10 HP, 1 Defense, 10 Attack, 1km/h).**
**UNDERWORLD POCKET( F- RANK) - Store your summon in this pocket dimension. Your summons recovers 1% HP/1 min and 1% MP/1 min. You can store 10 summons( 10 x your level).**
**TALENT:**
**OVERWHELMING ARMY- You have an additional pocket dimension that can store unlimited summons. In this dimension any summon you store here experience fission every hour(summons duplicate every hour). Current stored summons: 0**
The administrator, her initial surprise fading, raised a single eyebrow. "That was quite late. For a moment, I thought you wouldn't awaken at all. What class did you get?" Suka tore his gaze from the glowing screen, the words still echoing in his mind. *Necromancer.* He'd done it. He'd actually awakened. The reality felt surreal, a dream after five years of mundane, back-breaking labor.
"I got a Necromancer class," Suka said, the words feeling foreign on his tongue.
The woman's face went dull, her expression flattening into one of resigned disappointment. She tapped a stylus against her tablet, the sound sharp in the quiet hall. "I guess it's true, then. The later you awaken, the weaker the class you'll get." Her eyes, devoid of judgment, held a hint of pity. "Necromancer. That's… challenging."
Challenging was an understatement. Everyone knew Necromancers were a joke. Their summons, fragile as dry leaves, crumbled under the merest breath of a beast. A common grunt could swat a newly summoned skeleton into dust. *10 HP, 1 Defense, 10 Attack.* Any Awakener with a starting attack of 100 would cleave through it like butter. This world, with its beast waves and constant threat, had no room for weakness.
He reread his talent, his mind racing. *Overwhelming Army*. An additional pocket dimension. Unlimited summons. Fission. Every hour. This wasn't just a talent; it was an exponential engine of destruction. If word of this got out, the powerful, the greedy, the desperate, would descend upon him like vultures. He'd be a tool, a weapon, not a person.
"Your talent?" the administrator prompted, her voice cutting through his thoughts. She looked up from her tablet, her gaze scrutinizing. "What's wrong? Why are you taking so long to reply? You know it's an offense to lie about your talent. That endangers the district, in the event of a monster wave."
Her words struck a chord. Monster waves. The constant, gnawing fear. Rifts, gaping wounds in reality, spewing forth horrors. He remembered the last one, the screams echoing through the city, the frantic scramble for shelter. The district relied on its Awakened. A lie, a misrepresentation of power, could cost lives.
Suka straightened his shoulders, a mask of neutrality settling on his face. "My talent creates an additional portal," he explained, carefully omitting the crucial details, "where there's an additional space I can put my summons."
The administrator stared at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his. Then, she sighed, a sound of profound weariness. "Oh. Your talent is as useless as your class, then. You quite have a long road ahead." She typed something into her tablet, her fingers moving with practiced efficiency. "Go next door to the Awakened Association. Fetch your license." She waved a dismissive hand.
"Next!"
Suka turned, the blue screen still hovering before him, his talent description mocking the administrator's assessment. *Unlimited. Fission. Every hour.* He walked, the hum of mana exhaust now a distant drone, his mind consumed by the implications of his hidden power. The sheer, terrifying potential of it. He could create an army. Not just an army, but an *overwhelming* army.
He found himself outside a towering structure, its polished facade reflecting the harsh mid-day sun. Fifteen floors of steel and glass, a monument to the Awakened. Mana stones, the lifeblood of this world, powered everything. He knew them intimately. He'd shoveled them, sorted them, breathed their dust for years at the mana furnace, one of the two behemoths that kept the city's lights on.
Inside, the lobby buzzed with activity. Awakened, easily identifiable by their confident bearing and the subtle glow of their auras, moved through the space. Some carried large, reinforced bags, their contents clinking with the unmistakable sound of mana crystals. Hunters, returning from the wild.
Suka approached the reception desk. A young man, meticulously groomed, sat behind it, his posture impossibly straight. His demeanor radiated calm, a stark contrast to the chaos of the world outside.
"Good day, sir," the man said, his voice smooth and even. "How may I help you today?"
"I want to collect my license," Suka replied, his voice betraying none of the turmoil within him. "I just recently awakened."
The receptionist's fingers danced across a holographic keyboard. "Your name, please?"
"Suka."
A moment of silence, then a soft chime. "Fourth floor, sir. Proceed to the licensing department. They'll finalize your registration."
Fifteen minutes later, Suka held his license, a sleek, data-encrypted card, in his hand. The weight of it felt strange, a new chapter officially begun. He was no longer just a furnace worker. He was an Awakener. A Necromancer. With a secret that could shatter the world. His shared apartment with five others, a cramped, noisy refuge, awaited. He needed to think. He needed a plan. The furnace, the endless shoveling, seemed a lifetime away. His road ahead was indeed long. But it was no longer useless.