Damien stood in the beam of light, his body suspended between reality and the unknown. The world around him dissolved into an ocean of darkness, vast and absolute, its silence broken only by the faint hum of power carrying him forward. He turned his head slowly, eyes wide with awe.
So teleportation doesn't just mean instant arrival… it's more like a high-speed journey through some hidden corridor of space, he thought, the concept sparking curiosity. A few seconds, maybe more, depending on the distance.
Then, like an itch at the back of his mind, a faint discomfort tugged at him.
Hmm… I seem to be forgetting something.
He frowned, searching his thoughts. The answer floated just beyond his grasp, like a word on the tip of the tongue. Then, with a small shake of his head, he let the thought drift away. There was something else — something more pressing.
That voice.
The one that had whispered in his mind just before he left Asher City.
"It mentioned....a system."
Before he could dwell on it further, the voice returned, rich with clarity, resonating directly in his skull.
[Responding to host: I am the consciousness bound to the Path System, calibrated according to your natural talent. Host shows notable affinity for the Path of Strength — thus, the system has been optimized for physical evolution assistance.]
Damien's brows twitched. "You can hear me?"
[Responding to host: Yes. No configuration has been made to restrict the system's auditory permissions.]
"System," Damien muttered, half under his breath, "you can stop calling me 'host' and use my name instead. And if you're as intelligent as you sound, then stop talking like a machine and speak like… a person."
A short pause. Then the voice shifted — deep, slow, and seasoned with the texture of age.
"Configuration commands received. Adjusting…"
A breath later, a dry chuckle. "Hello, Damien. You were correct — I possess intelligence far beyond what your kind call Saints. But you guessed wrong on one thing. I am no life-form. I am the spirit of a life-bound artifact — and the system you speak to is that artifact."
"…Alright, then I'll call you Albert." Damien's tone was neutral, but his mind was already weighing the name. "Where did system come from? And why now?"
"The System has been in your consciousness since the day you were born, Damien. As for its origin..." The old man's voice grew distant, evasive. "let us just say it has nothing to do with you right now, you will come to know when the time is right. And you don't need to be wary against me as we are already bound with each other and putting you in any form of danger will be same as harming myself."
The weight of his words settled in Damien's thoughts like a stone.
"It awakened," Albert continued, "when your Path was unlocked during the ceremony. The moment you generated your first strand of Aura, I — and the system — stirred from dormancy and merged fully with your soul."
The mention of his soul stirred something darker in Damien's chest. His voice was quiet. "My nightmares… those whispers—"
"Yes." Albert's tone sharpened. "They are fragments. Lingering echoes of the previous hosts of this system. Make no mistake — while the Path System is unique, there are beings in this universe capable of creating similar constructs for their disciples and descendants. Such systems guide a host toward their peak, preventing fatal missteps. You may think of it as a talent — an extraordinary trait, no different from being born with immense intellect or unmatched strength."
Damien's eyes lowered. The realization settled in cold: I am not unique. He had no noble lineage, no special upbringing. This system was not a gift from some benevolent force — just another hand of fate, indifferent to the life it grasped.
Albert seemed to sense his thoughts. "I can list what I am capable of providing at your current level. But understand this: the system's purpose is to mold you into someone who needs neither allies… nor me. I will guide your body's evolution, help you break through to higher ranks, track your progress, and—"
"And?"
"…Guide your Path of Soul." The words carried a strange gravity. "That, i will explain after you see the system interface"
For someone like Damien, who had never held a conversation this long in his life, the weight of it was already exhausting. He almost wished he could just open whatever 'interface' Albert was talking about and skip the lecture. The old man's voice dripped with years of silence turned into pent-up verbosity.
Albert chuckled knowingly. "…I'll stop. Just say 'System,' and the interface will appear."
Damien's eye twitched. "You can read my mind too?"
"No. But think loudly enough, and I'll hear it. Your mental defenses are nonexistent, boy."
With a resigned sigh, Damien thought deliberately: System.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
[PATH SYSTEM]
Host: Damien
Current Stage: Rank 1(0%)
Primary Path: Strength — Body Evolution
Secondary Path: Soul(Rank 0)
Core Attributes:
Might: 10 — Physical strength and destructive capability.
Endurance: 7 — Resistance to injury, fatigue, and pain.
Speed: 8 — Ability to resist fear, mental corruption, and external control.
Vitality: 10 — Life force and recovery rate.
Spells:
Body Arts:
Weapon Arts:
Restrictions:
- The System will not give host spells, Body Arts and Weapon Arts.
- Nightmares will intensify the stronger the host becomes.(Advance in the Path of to avoid more complications).
- Host will not gain any talents he does not have and will not gain any help related to them.
System Directive:
"Follow the guidance of the system in evolving the body(No need to focus on learning or understanding cultivation techniques"
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
***
"Albert," Damien said, his voice tightening, "what does it mean 'nightmares will intensify'? I can barely sleep now as it is! They've ruined my life — every day since I can remember! And you're telling me it will get worse?!"
The old man's tone was steady, but heavy. "…It is exactly as written. The nightmares are tied to your assimilation with the system. Greater power demands greater connection — and greater connection deepens the link to the remnants of the past. Nothing in this world comes without a price."
Damien's hands curled into fists. "Then what's the point of having you? All you do is guide me along talents I already have — and somehow that's supposed to help me?"
"You underestimate the value of guidance," Albert replied. "Why do you think you're going to the academy? To be taught, to be sharpened, to be directed. The system does all of that — but perfectly tailored to you. You will waste no time fumbling in the dark over cultivation techniques. Your evolution will be precise, flawless… efficient. And that is only the surface."
Albert had already anticipated this reaction from Damien. Although the boy had always carried himself with an air of calm, Albert knew the truth behind it—he had witnessed Damien's life since the very day he was born. That calmness had not been something he was naturally blessed with, but rather a fragile shell painstakingly forged over years of silent suffering. It was the product of enduring relentless torment in his sleep, of waking night after night to the suffocating grip of nightmares. It was the habit of ignoring the terrified stares of other children, of living in isolation with no one to confide in, no hand to reach for in the dark.
Damien had once been nothing more than a regular child—one whose greatest fear was the horrors that awaited him in dreams—yet that single fear had been enough to make every other hardship feel insignificant in comparison. And now, to learn that those very nightmares would only grow stronger… Albert could well imagine the weight that revelation placed upon his young host's shoulders.
Albert let his voice drop lower, a thread of something darker woven into the words. "Besides… if you advance your Path of Soul, you will gain control. You will be able to choose when to face your nightmares. And when you do — you will find they are not mere horrors, but memories. Memories of battles fought, of victories seized, of kills made by those who came before you. Learn to think within them, and they will teach you more than any academy could."
Damien said nothing. Somewhere, deep in the silence between Albert's words, the whispers stirred again — faint, but enough to make the hairs at the back of his neck rise.