Dying was easy. I did it on a Tuesday, right in the middle of rush hour. The truck hit me—I saved the kid—and I clocked out of life. Standard procedure.
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Rain slicked the asphalt under my cheek. The little girl's teddy bear lay three feet away, its button eyes staring at the jagged rift tearing open in the air. Purple lightning crackled from its maw, and the stench of burnt ozone clogged my lungs. I couldn't move—my legs were pinned under the wreckage of my delivery bike, pain blazing up my spine like hot wire.
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The shadow creature emerged from the void—too many teeth, too many limbs, its hide shimmering like oil on water. It padded toward the girl, who huddled against a streetlamp, sobbing too quiet to hear over the rain. My hands curled into fists, nails digging into my palms until blood seeped through. I was just a delivery man. I'd never held a weapon heavier than a bike lock.
But I'd never let a kid die on my route.
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I pushed with every ounce of strength left in my broken body. The bike shifted an inch. Then another. The creature paused, head tilting as it scented me. I shouted—"HEY! OVER HERE, YOU UGLY SON OF A BITCH!"—and threw my helmet. It bounced off its hide like a pebble.
The beast charged. I braced myself, feeling the cold of the rift's edge brush my face.
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This is it, I thought, closing my eyes as claws descended. At least the kid's safe.
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Pain exploded across my chest. Then—nothing. Just black. And a voice that wasn't a voice—more like words carved into the fabric of what is.
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Waking up in a new world? That was fine. Magic? Cool. Dungeons? Sure.
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The first thing I felt was weight. Not just the kind that presses down on your chest when you wake up sick—mountain-heavy, star-dense, universe-deep weight. It was strapped to my back, wrapped in tattered cloth that felt like it had been woven from shadow itself.
I pushed myself up off a straw-strewn bed, my new body lean but weak. The room was small—rough stone walls, a cracked window looking out at a grey sky choked with dust. Kazuto's memories flooded in like a dam breaking: the mana-wasting disease that ate away at his life, the sneers of villagers calling him "Dirt," the way even the weakest Rank F hunters would shove him aside at the rift entrances. His last thought before dying—Protect the village… don't let them starve.
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I reached for the thing on my back, and a jolt of power shot up my arm—warm, ancient, like touching the heart of a star. The cloth fell away, revealing a pillar of polished black metal, so dense it seemed to bend the light around it. It looked like a crude club. It felt like I was holding every atom in existence in my palm.
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Nobody told me that my 'Cheat Item' would be a sword I can't even use.
I tried to lift it off my back. My muscles screamed, but it moved as if it weighed no more than a feather—for me. I held it out to test the balance, then set it against the wall. The stone cracked under its touch, spiderwebbing across the room.
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A knock at the door made me jump. I slung the sword back onto my shoulders—it settled like a second spine—and pulled the tattered cloth over it. The door swung open to reveal a boy about my age, wearing an iron badge etched with an "E." Rank E. He sniffed, wrinkling his nose.
"Kazuto? I thought you were dead. What's that thing on your back? A club for beating dirt?" He laughed, loud and sharp. "You're Rank -F. You can't even sense mana—what are you going to do, bludgeon a goblin to death?"
They call it a God-Tier weapon. I call it a very heavy paperweight.
I stepped past him into the village square. The air reeked of stale bread and burnt mana crystals. Villagers huddled around small piles of grey gems—Dust Rift scraps, barely enough to feed a family for a day. A woman clutched her child's hand, eyes hollow with hunger.
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My jaw tightened. Back on Earth, I'd delivered food to hungry families every day. Now, here, hunger was a death sentence—and the people who controlled the good rifts didn't care about the "Dirt Class" on the edge of the world.
A roar echoed from the east. A Dust Rift had torn open, glowing grey. A Scrap Goblin—scrawny, covered in rags and rust—loped out, clutching a broken sword. It spotted a little girl crouching behind a water barrel, holding a half-eaten piece of bread.
The Rank E boy drew his own sword, mana flaring along the edge. "Stay back, dirt! I'll handle this!" He charged, slashing at the goblin. His blade cut through its rags—but bounced off the rusted plate strapped to its chest. The goblin snarled, swinging its broken sword at his head.
My name is Voldius Kazuto. I'm a Rank -F Dirt Class knight, and I'm currently carrying a weapon that weighs more than this entire continent on my back.
I moved before I thought. The weight of Emre shifted on my shoulders as I stepped forward. I didn't draw it—I couldn't. Instead, I let the scabbard swing slightly, brushing the goblin's side as I passed.
If I drop it, everyone dies. If I draw it, existence ends.
A low hum filled the air. The goblin froze. Then, the rusted plate on its chest began to crumble—not from impact, but from something deeper. The metal turned to dust, then the dust dissolved. The goblin's body, and the space it occupied, simply vanished—leaving a single grey heart gem on the ground.
Silence. The Rank E boy stared, his sword hanging limp in his hand. The little girl peeked out from behind the barrel, her eyes wide.
I picked up the gem and handed it to her. "Eat well," I said, my voice quiet but steady.
The boy found his tongue. "What… what did you do?"
So, if you want to fight me, go ahead. Just don't touch the handle. I'd hate to delete your bloodline by accident.
I looked at him, then at the rift still glowing grey in the distance. The Voice of the World hummed in my head, listing threats, stats, and truths nobody else could hear.
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"I delivered something," I said, slinging Emre higher on my back. "Now I'm going to deliver more. The Union Knight Registry's not far from here, right?"
The boy nodded, still staring at the spot where the goblin had been. "But… you're -F. They won't let you register."
I smiled—the same smile I used to give customers when their order was late but worth the wait.
"They will now."
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