Rain had a way of hiding the sounds of misery.
At least, that's what Ren Kage used to tell himself.
It wasn't true.
Even drowned beneath thunder and storm winds, the village of Black Ash had always echoed with hunger, whispers, and the crackling tension of people too poor to hope and too afraid to leave. Tonight, though, it echoed with something else—something Ren could not name.
He stood beneath the broken shrine at the edge of the village, a place long abandoned by any god who once cared for prayers whispered here. The wood was swollen from years of storms, moss choking carvings no one remembered the meaning of. Ren had always come here when he needed silence.
But tonight, the silence felt wrong.
Too still.
Too watchful.
Like the world was holding its breath.
Ren tightened the thin cloak around his shoulders. The fabric was barely more than patched rags, but it cut just enough of the wind to keep him from shivering. He had learned long ago to endure the cold. The bruises. The nights without food.
He had endured everything, except answers.
"Why did you leave me here?" Ren whispered to the empty shrine, though the meaning went far deeper than this abandoned place.
He didn't know his parents.
He didn't know why he'd been left at the village's edge like unwanted refuse.
He didn't know why the elders looked at him with a mixture of pity and quiet fear.
There was no reason.
There was never a reason.
Only silence.
Only survival.
Ren clenched his fist. He hated weakness—especially the kind that festered inside him. He was fourteen, barely old enough to work properly in any trade, but already old enough to understand that the world did not care about boys like him.
The villagers whispered that cultivation chose the worthy.
Ren knew better.
It chose the safe.
The protected.
The ones who belonged to clans and sects and bloodlines that mattered.
No one awakened power in forgotten villages like this one.
No one except the desperate.
Thunder cracked across the sky, a jagged tear of white light illuminating the shrine—and the shadow that didn't belong.
Ren froze.
A figure stood at the shrine's far end, though he hadn't heard footsteps.
Tall.
Wrapped in a cloak darker than night.
Face unseen.
For a heartbeat, Ren forgot how to breathe.
The stranger's presence wasn't normal.
It wasn't human.
It felt like the air around him bowed—bent—distorted by something unseen.
Ren stepped back instinctively. "Who… who are you?"
The figure didn't answer.
Instead, it lifted its head slightly, as if examining him.
Ren's heart thudded painfully.
Then the voice came.
Low.
Rough.
Layered with something more than sound.
"You do not belong to this place."
Ren swallowed. "I— I don't have anywhere else."
"You will," the figure said.
A statement, not kindness.
A verdict.
Ren didn't know if it was a promise or a threat.
The wind shifted, carrying a brief scent of something cold, metallic, and old—like the air inside a burial mound. The figure tilted its head again.
"Tonight, something awakens. Something ancient. Something hungry. It has chosen you."
Ren shook his head, backing away further. "Chosen? I don't understand—"
"You will."
Lightning flashed again—but this time the light collapsed into shadow instead of expanding.
For an instant, Ren felt weightless.
Weightless and hollow.
Like his bones dissolved into the dark.
Then—
[system awakening…]
The voice wasn't spoken.
It was inside his skull, cold as winter stone and infinitely more precise.
Ren gasped and clutched his head.
[deep-root access • authorization granted]
[soulsignature: ren kage — accepted]
[initialization complete]
The storm vanished.
Not gone—simply muted, smothered under the pressure of something pressing into Ren's consciousness. A foreign presence, sharp and analytical, like an unseen observer peering straight through his bones.
Ren stumbled, bracing himself against the shrine's pillar.
"What… is this?" Ren whispered.
The figure did not move. "Your future."
Ren shook his head violently. "This—this can't be real."
The voice in his head returned.
[beginner interface unlocked]
[error: host body — severely weak]
[warning: life expectancy — 3 years]
Ren froze.
His breath caught in his throat.
"What… did you say?"
[condition diagnosis available, do you want to see?]
Ren clenched his fists. He didn't need the system to tell him he was weak—he had known his entire life. But three years…?
"Yes," Ren whispered. "Show me."
[diagnosing…]
[result:]
• malnourished
• stunted meridian development
• corrupted spirit vein (dormant)
• trauma-scarred soul layer (partial)
• lifespan drain — unknown source
The last line made his blood run cold.
Unknown source?
Something was killing him without him knowing.
Ren trembled.
The stranger finally moved. Just one step—but enough for Ren to feel the weight of his gaze.
"You will die," the figure said, voice flat as stone. "Unless you earn the right to live."
"How?" Ren whispered.
"By becoming stronger faster than anyone alive."
Ren shook his head. "I can't even cultivate."
"You couldn't."
The shadow lifted a gloved hand.
"Now, you can."
Ren blinked.
For the first time, something like warmth flickered behind the stranger's presence. Not kindness. Not sympathy.
Expectation.
"What… what do I do?"
A soft pulse echoed within his head.
[new function available: pain-conversion cultivation]
Ren froze.
[You lack talent.
You lack resources.
You lack connections.
But you possess something rare — unbroken endurance.
This system will convert pain, fear, and willpower into cultivation energy.]
Pain… could become strength?
All the suffering—the hunger—the beatings—the cold—the loneliness…
All of it could become fuel.
"Why… why me?" Ren whispered.
"Because only the broken understand what it means to climb."
The system chimed again:
[first quest: survive until dawn]
[reward: access to the first cultivation method]
[warning: host location — approaching threat]
Thunder rolled.
Ren stood alone in the shrine.
System whispering.
Storm raging.
Fear sharpening into resolve.
He wasn't chosen because he was special.
He was chosen because he endured.
And tonight—
He would survive.