In the sprawling estate of Count Credo Sereto, nestled among the rolling hills of Eldoria, lived a boy who should have been noble by blood—yet was treated like a shadow, barely noticed.
His name was Ryuwen Sereto, the third son of the count. A title that brought him neither pride nor warmth.
While his elder brothers, Darion and Frio, were praised for their strength and skill, Ryuwen existed only in comparison—always lesser, always lacking. Where they stood tall, he shrank. Where they excelled, he failed. And where they were loved, he was merely tolerated.
Darion, the eldest, had the aura of a born knight. Even in his youth, he wielded his blade with precision and confidence that drew admiration from nobles and instructors alike. His every movement seemed deliberate, his posture regal. His father often boasted, "Darion will bring honor to the Sereto name."
Frio, the second son, had a natural affinity for magic. His hands danced with energy, spells sparking from his fingertips with ease. Even the family's mage tutors praised his talent. He was destined, his father said, "to become a mage of Eldoria, bending elements to his will."
And Ryuwen? He tried. Every day he trained with the wooden sword, every day he attempted a spell or incantation—but each attempt ended in failure, trembling, or ridicule.
To the servants, he was the quiet one.
To the nobles, the weak heir.
To his brothers—he was entertainment.
One afternoon, sunlight bathed the Sereto estate's garden in gold. Ryuwen practiced alone with a wooden sword far too heavy for his arms. His grip trembled. His stance wavered.
Laughter cut through the air.
"Well, look at this pitiful sight," Darion sneered, stepping forward with practiced confidence. "The Sereto name grows weaker every day."
Frio circled him like a predator, eyes glinting with mockery. "Can you even lift that properly? Or are you hoping it'll swing itself?"
The wooden sword slipped from Ryuwen's hands and struck the ground.
"I—I'm trying," he whispered, though no one cared to hear it.
From the windows and garden paths, maids and servants watched in silence. Whispers followed—but no one intervened.
Ryuwen lowered his head.
Why am I so weak? Why was I even born?
Tears welled, but he forced them back. Crying only invited ridicule.
That night, the grand dining hall felt colder than usual. Silverware clinked softly as the Sereto family gathered beneath the chandelier's glow. Count Credo sat at the head of the table, his presence heavy, unyielding, and radiating authority.
"Ryuwen," his father said, voice sharp, slicing through the air like a blade. "What have you accomplished this past month?"
"I—" Ryuwen began, but words failed him.
"Training? Swordsmanship? Magic? Anything worthy of my name?" Credo pressed.
Darion smirked. "He's been training to disappoint, Father."
Frio laughed quietly. "A true talent."
The count's expression darkened. "If you continue like this, I will no longer acknowledge you as my son."
The words fell like a stone. Ryuwen's chest tightened—not only from fear, but from guilt. His mother had died giving birth to him. His stepmother, Lady Lucia, looked on with thinly veiled disgust. He was a reminder. A mistake.
Ryuwen… he had nothing. His small hands trembled, holding a wooden sword. His heart thumped painfully against his ribs.
On quiet nights, he would stare at the stars from the estate's roof, wishing he could vanish entirely. If only the world didn't remember me… if only I could disappear without a trace…
The sound of laughter drifted from the main hall—Darion and Frio boasting to guests about their future glory. Ryuwen clenched his fists.
What good is a noble birth if no one loves me?
What value is a family if they treat me as a mistake?
The moonlight reflected on the fountain in the courtyard, casting silver ripples across the stone. Ryuwen knelt beside it, staring at his own reflection. He saw nothing but a shadow of his brothers—small, fragile, powerless.
And yet… beneath the fear, a small ember of defiance flickered.
Tomorrow, at the Blessing Ceremony… he whispered to himself.
Something will change. It must.
The Goddess's Judgment – The Blessing Ceremony
The bells of Eldoria rang across the town, their sound crisp and echoing through every corner. Today was the Blessing Ceremony, the most awaited event of the year. Every child turning fifteen would step before the Goddess's crystal and have their future revealed. Nobles, merchants, and townsfolk filled the great hall, each whispering prayers and hope.
Ryuwen stood at the back, heart pounding, hands clenmy. The crystal at the altar shimmered faintly, reflecting the sun in dazzling patterns. Children shuffled forward, each trembling or standing tall, waiting for their turn.
The priest overseeing the ceremony raised his hands, his voice calm yet commanding:
"Children of Eldoria, step forward and reveal the blessings the Goddess bestows upon you. Let her light shine upon your path!"
The crowd held its breath.
The first child, a boy with short brown hair, stepped into the crystal's glow. A warm light wrapped around him, faint but noticeable.
The priest declared,
"Knight."
It was a low-level blessing—enough to recognize his potential, nothing extraordinary. The boy's parents clapped politely. The crowd nodded, some whispering that he would have to work hard to reach greatness.
The second child, a girl with chestnut hair and keen eyes, approached. Silver and blue swirls danced around her hands.
The priest intoned,
"Mage."
Her blessing was mid-level, showing talent above ordinary children. Parents smiled proudly; whispers of admiration spread: "She could rival some academy graduates already…"
The third child, another boy with dark hair, walked confidently to the altar. A steady glow emanated from him, and light traced the edge of his sword.
"Knight."
Another mid-level blessing. Teachers and tutors exchanged impressed glances. The hall buzzed quietly: "Not many children reach this level at such an age."
Then, the hall went silent. A girl with silver hair, radiant and poised, stepped forward. A halo of rainbow light and floating crystals surrounded her. Light refracted into the hall, casting dancing patterns on the walls.
The priest's voice trembled slightly:
"Saint."
Gasps echoed. Whispers became louder. Townsfolk craned their necks, nobility murmured: "This is a blessing of legend…"
The girl's parents wept with pride. Even seasoned priests took a step back, murmuring prayers of thanks. Children stared, wide-eyed. Light from her blessing seemed almost alive, orbiting her like stars, and the crystal hummed softly, resonating with her aura.
Finally, a boy with golden hair approached. Brilliant, almost blinding light burst from the crystal, illuminating the hall.
"Knight."
Another high-level blessing. Even the noble council leaned forward in astonishment. "A child destined for legend," one whispered. Parents clasped their hands over their mouths in awe. This child radiated authority and power beyond what most adults could summon.
The hall was silent for a heartbeat, then erupted in murmurs. The priests conferred among themselves, whispering:
"This… this is unprecedented."
"I have never seen two high-level blessings in a single ceremony."
"It is a sign… a true omen."
"Next… Arvin of the Sereto family."
The voice echoed across the wide awakening hall.
A few quiet murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"The Sereto family?"
"That noble house?"
Arvin froze for half a second before taking a slow breath. It's my turn…
He stepped forward, boots echoing softly against the polished stone floor. Dozens of eyes followed him as he walked toward the glowing crystal sphere resting atop its pedestal.
His heart pounded in his chest.
Please… he prayed silently. Even a low-level ability… even a mid-level one… I'll accept anything. Just don't let it be nothing.
His hands trembled slightly as he stopped in front of the crystal.
I don't need something amazing… I just want a chance. Just give me a path…
He raised his hand slowly.
Please… even a low level or mid level… I will accept it.
The moment his fingers touched the surface—
The crystal flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then the light abruptly vanished.
Silence crashed over the hall.
The crystal dimmed completely, turning dull and lifeless.
"Cannot receive blessings."
Shock rippled through the hall. Children glanced at each other. Parents gasped, some whispered frantically, some could not even comprehend it. Even the high-level Saint girl paused, her eyes flicking toward him, confused.
The priest's voice rose, incredulous:
"This… child… has been rejected by the Goddess. A child with no blessing…"
Whispers spread like wildfire. Nobles muttered in disbelief.
"How could this happen? Not even a minor blessing?"
The Saint girl's expression was unreadable. The high-level Knight blinked, slightly puzzled. The other children lowered their eyes, unsure what to think.
Arvin's chest tightened. He could feel the weight of every gaze in the hall. No blessing. No protection. No recognition. Nothing but rejection.
The ceremony ended with the priests closing the crystal chamber. Parents herded their children out, townsfolk muttered, and the hall slowly emptied, leaving a stunned silence in its wake.
The Day of Exile
The sun rose weakly over the Sereto estate, its light pale and reluctant, as if hesitant to touch the towering mansion. Shadows lingered in the corners of the grand dining hall, stretching long and cold across polished marble floors. Ryuwen sat stiffly at the breakfast table, his back rigid, hands clenched so tightly that his knuckles whitened. His plate lay untouched, eggs and bread growing cold under the soft morning light.
Count Credo Sereto's eyes, sharp as daggers, rested on him like a predator's gaze on prey. The silence was suffocating, broken only by the faint clinking of silverware from the servants moving quietly about the room. The murmurs of the other family members only deepened the tension, each whisper a silent condemnation.
"Ryuwen," Credo said finally, his voice cold and cutting, like steel against stone. "I will not tolerate uselessness under my roof any longer. I don't want a child who has no talent, no drive, nothing to show for himself."
Ryuwen froze, the words striking him like a physical blow. His stomach lurched, his throat tightening. No… that can't be… Father, you can't… why me? What did I do wrong…?
"Take your things and leave immediately!" Credo thundered, his voice echoing through the hall. "Do not return to this family ever again!"
He leaned forward slightly, eyes blazing with fury. "What can you even do, boy? You are weak, incompetent, good for nothing! You have no talent, no strength… you are utterly useless!"
Ryuwen's chest tightened, the words sinking into him like venom. His lips trembled, a mix of fear, anger, and humiliation welling up. "F-Father… I… I can't—" His voice cracked, disbelief bleeding through every syllable.
"Silence!" Credo's voice thundered across the hall.
Darion leaned back in his chair, a smug smile twisting his lips. "Hah! Looks like little Ryuwen is finally getting the boot," he sneered, voice dripping with malice. "No wonder Father wants to get rid of you. You can't fight, can't lead, can't even do anything useful. Truly pathetic."
Frio snickered, leaning forward as he tapped the edge of his goblet with his fingers.
"Honestly, it's amusing to watch him squirm. I mean, really… he's nothing but a weakling. He doesn't even deserve a place in this house," he added, laughing softly.
Ryuwen felt heat rise to his face, but he forced himself to stay seated, clenching his fists under the table. The words of his brothers cut him deeply, their mockery like nails scraping against the raw wound of his humiliation.
Why… why me? I tried… I did everything I could… and this is what I get? No place to return… no one to defend me… no name worth keeping…
Lady Lucia's eyes, cold and dismissive, swept over him. She didn't need to speak—her disdain alone was enough to drive home his shame. The servants moved quietly, glancing at him with pity or unease, but none dared intervene.
Ryuwen's knees felt weak, and he gripped the edge of the table as hot tears slipped down his cheeks. He tried to blink them away, but more came, burning and unrelenting. Why… why does it have to be like this? His chest heaved, each sob a painful reminder of the rejection he had endured.
No one came to comfort him—no hand on his shoulder, no word of consolation. Even the servants averted their eyes, and his family looked on with nothing but disdain or amusement. The loneliness pressed down on him like a weight he couldn't lift.
After what felt like an eternity, Ryuwen wiped at his face roughly with the sleeve of his tunic, forcing himself to stand. His hands trembled as he slowly gathered a small bag of belongings—what little he could carry.
He took a deep breath, fighting the lump in his throat. I have no choice… I have to leave.
With one last glance at the grand dining hall, the towering pillars, and the faces that had filled him with shame, Ryuwen stepped backward. Each step away from the hall felt heavier than the last, as though the weight of his family's scorn clung to him, tugging at his very soul.
The Sereto estate loomed behind him, vast and imposing, yet somehow hollow. The walls that had once seemed so protective now felt suffocating. He passed the familiar corridors, the servants' quiet movements, the polished floors that reflected his solitary form—and felt the finality of his exile.
As he pushed open the heavy front door, the sunlight washed over him. It felt different now—harsh, unforgiving, yet also strangely freeing. The sprawling gardens, the fountains, the carved statues—all of it belonged to a life he could never return to.
Ryuwen exhaled sharply, adjusting the strap of his bag over his shoulder. He swallowed hard, steadying his shaking hands. Ahead lay the world outside the Sereto estate, uncertain and wild, and he had nothing but himself to rely on.
The forest that bordered the estate was dense and unfamiliar. Twisted roots and rocks snaked across the ground. Birds chirped overhead, but their song felt distant, almost mocking.
Ryuwen's steps were hesitant. Each snap of a twig underfoot made him flinch. Hunger gnawed at him, exhaustion weighed down his shoulders. The path twisted deeper into the woods, each step a struggle.
By sunset, he found a small clearing to rest. He ate a small portion of bread. He whispered to himself,
I will survive. I must survive. No one else can care for me, so I will care for myself.
The Legacy Beneath the Forest
Hours later, his foot struck something solid. Half-buried beneath moss and roots lay a strange black stone, unnaturally smooth, etched with faint silver markings that pulsed like a heartbeat.
"This… wasn't here before," he whispered.
His fingers brushed the stone. The earth trembled violently, roots snapping free, and the ground opened beneath him. He fell—then landed softly on stone.
The cavern before him was vast, ceiling lost in darkness. Countless crystals grew from the walls and floor—blue, violet, gold, crimson—each glowing quietly. He gasped.
Arvin stood before the massive stone door, its surface etched with intricate runes that pulsed faintly with a rhythm that seemed alive. The air around it hummed with latent energy, almost as if the door itself were aware of him. He hesitated, hand trembling as he reached forward.
What… could be behind this? he wondered.
All this power… all this history… what waits for me?
With a deep breath, he spoke the words that had etched themselves into his memory:
"By the Legacy bound, open."
The runes glowed brightly, then faded as the stone slowly shifted, sliding aside without a sound. Beyond the threshold, light spilled into the cavern, warm and inviting, but unlike anything he had seen before.
Arvin stepped inside. His eyes widened, taking in the sheer magnitude of the chamber.
The floor stretched endlessly, paved with polished stone that reflected the golden glow of countless gold coins scattered across its surface.
Piles of gold coins glittered under the shimmering light, overflowing from wooden chests, barrels, and even loose heaps that seemed to have no end.
Silver ingots shimmered among them, and gems of every color—ruby, sapphire, emerald, amethyst—were scattered like stars caught in the ocean.
Some chests were simple and unassuming, yet they overflowed with gold coins that could sustain a kingdom for decades. Others were enormous, iron-bound and ancient, brimming so full that coins spilled onto the floor, forming small hills around them.
Barrels of gold coins leaned precariously, spilling more into the room with every shift.
Arvin's gaze traveled further. Legendary weapons rested on stone pedestals—swords that seemed alive with energy, bows that pulsed with magic, and armor that shone as if forged from pure sunlight.
Crowns and tiaras, encrusted with gemstones that sparkled with their own internal glow, were displayed like trophies of forgotten kings. Ancient relics hummed softly, sealed with power too immense for a mortal to wield.
Even the walls seemed adorned with treasure: tapestries woven with threads of gold, paintings whose canvases glittered with hidden gems, and shelves lined with magical artifacts that whispered secrets when he stepped closer.
I… I can't believe this… Arvin whispered, his voice trembling.
This… this is beyond anything I could have imagined.
He took a careful step forward, feeling the weight of history in the air. His eyes fell to the floor again, where scattered gold coins, rings, pendants, and amulets caught the light and reflected rainbows in every direction.
Arvin's gaze finally settled on the center of the chamber. A single pedestal rose from the polished stone floor, carved with runes older than any he had ever seen. Atop it rested a thin, dustless book, its surface shimmering faintly as if it had been waiting for him for centuries.
His hands trembled as he approached. Every instinct screamed caution, but curiosity—and something deeper, a sense of destiny—pushed him forward.
Slowly, he reached out and touched the cover. The moment his fingers made contact, a sharp chime echoed through the cavern, resonating with the walls, the gold coins, and the crystals themselves.
A translucent, glowing screen unfurled before his eyes. Letters of pure light floated, forming words he could read clearly despite their ethereal shimmer.
—SYSTEM ACTIVATED—
Arvin stumbled back, blinking. His voice caught in his throat.
"What… what is this…?"
Golden letters formed, rearranging, flickering. A name appeared:
[ RYU— ]
The letters cracked violently, splintering as though the world itself rejected them. They shattered into shards of light. And then… a new name replaced them:
STATUS WINDOW
Name: Arvin
Age: 15
Level: 1
Strength: 3
Agility: 3
Vitality: 4
Magic: 3
Arvin's breath caught in his throat. My… my name changed? His hands trembled slightly as he stared at the floating text.
Almost immediately, another message appeared, golden letters shimmering before him:
—SYSTEM NOTICE—
Original Identity: REJECTED
New Designation: ACCEPTED
Legacy Candidate: CONFIRMED
Bloodline Resonance: ACTIVE
Arvin blinked, swallowing hard. Legacy candidate… Bloodline Resonance… what does that even mean? He felt a mix of awe, confusion, and a spark of determination. Something inside him had shifted—whether he fully understood it or not, this was the start of a new path.
The ancient book's pages fluttered open on their own, glowing faintly as if alive. A soft, shimmering light spread across the room, illuminating the first page. Arvin's eyes widened as the glow revealed three weapons hovering above the page:
Iron Sword – Attack: +10 | Beginner Weapon | Unlocked
Iron Spear – Attack: +8 | Beginner Weapon | Unlocked
Iron Bow – Attack: +7 | Beginner Weapon | Unlocked
The shine of the book drew his gaze, and for a moment, he couldn't look away. These… these are real weapons…? His fingers trembled slightly. I… I don't even know if I can handle this.
Tentatively, he reached out and touched the Iron Sword. Instantly, it dropped from the projection onto the ground beside him, materializing into a solid, tangible weapon.
Hesitating, he crouched and picked it up, feeling the weight in his hand. It was light, slightly awkward, but sturdy enough. He glanced at the other two weapons, uncertainty written all over his face, and shook his head. I… I'll just start with this one.
Arvin held the Iron Sword tightly, his heart pounding. I can't be sure I'll survive what's out there… but at least I have something to defend myself
"I don't understand this system," he whispered, voice trembling.
"I don't know why I was chosen… or what I'm supposed to do. What power… what responsibility…"
He swallowed hard.
"But if this place remembers me… if I exist somewhere… then I won't disappear. I will survive."
Arvin stood there in silence, the weight of the question lingering heavier than any gold he had stored.
What should I do with all of this…?
The treasures stretched far beyond what one person could ever need. Even if he spent freely, even if he lived comfortably for the rest of his life, this vault would remain overflowing.
Slowly, his thoughts drifted elsewhere.
…If they knew.
His family's faces surfaced in his mind—his father's distant gaze, his brothers' indifference, the quiet expectation that he would always stay in the background.
If I showed them this…
Would they finally acknowledge me?
Would they look at me differently?
The thought lingered—warm, tempting… and fragile.
But another image followed just as quickly.
Hands reaching out. Voices praising the treasure, not him. Decisions being made without him being asked. Gold taken, artifacts claimed, and once everything useful was gone—
…Would they still see me?
Or would they simply take it… and leave me behind again?
Arvin's fingers curled slightly.
He had seen it before. Not with treasure—but with effort, with results, with things he worked hard to earn. The praise never lasted. The attention always faded.
Slowly, he exhaled.
"…Not yet."
This vault wasn't something he could share lightly. Once revealed, it couldn't be taken back. And he wasn't ready to gamble something this important on hope alone.
His gaze hardened—not with resentment, but resolve.
I'll decide when the time comes.
Not because I want approval…
…but because I choose to give it.
Arvin's gaze continued to wander across the treasure chamber, moving past the towering piles of gold and scattered relics.
That was when something small caught his attention.
Among the coins strewn across the floor, partially buried beneath gold and gemstones, a faint glimmer reflected the chamber's light. It wasn't as loud or imposing as the legendary artifacts nearby—but it stood out precisely because of that.
Arvin stepped closer.
Nestled between loose gold coins lay a ring.
It was silver, its surface etched with delicate golden lines that spiraled around the band. At its center rested a red gemstone, deep in color, polished to a flawless shine. Unlike the other treasures, it didn't radiate overwhelming power—yet there was something… contained about it.
Arvin crouched and picked it up.
The ring felt cool against his fingers. Light. Balanced. Not decorative—functional.
The moment he slipped it onto his finger, a familiar translucent window appeared in front of him.
System Notification
Subspace Ring
Type: Accessories
Grade: Unique
Effect: Allows the user to store and retrieve items freely. Can hold a large number of items safely and weightlessly.
"…A subspace ring."
His eyes returned to the sea of gold around him.
"…That explains it."
He lifted his hand slightly, testing the weight of the ring.
"…Subspace open."
The space before him shimmered faintly.
Arvin reached down, guiding a handful of gold coins toward the ring. The coins vanished the moment they touched the shimmering space, as if swallowed by thin air.
He watched carefully.
"…No resistance. No weight transfer."
He spoke again.
"…Subspace open."
The gold reappeared instantly in his palm, unchanged.
"…Good."
Without wasting time, Arvin continued testing it, calmly and methodically. He stored more gold, then retrieved it, then stored it again—until he was satisfied.
A final window appeared.
System Notification
Storage Updated.
Stored Currency: 100 Gold Coins
Arvin lowered his hand and looked at the ring once more.
"…This will make things easier."
A system message appeared in golden letters, shimmering across the chamber:
—SYSTEM NOTICE—
Vault Authority: ABSOLUTE
Primary Owner: Arvin
Access: Only the Primary Owner may enter.
Ancient Key: "By the Legacy bound, open"
Note: The Primary Owner may access the Vault at any time.
Arvin froze, his eyes widening as the words sank in.
"…Wait… w-what? Everything… all of this… is mine?" he whispered, his voice trembling with disbelief. He stepped closer, unable to tear his eyes away. Gold coins tumbled from cracked chests, forming glittering piles on the floor.
Gemstones of every color imaginable sparkled as if they were alive. Weapons of flawless craftsmanship rested on pedestals, their edges sharp, their handles polished to perfection, and some even seemed to hum faintly with magic.
A silver tray with a golden rim and a large ruby embedded on top shimmered in the light, drawing his attention like a magnet. Arvin crouched slightly, picking up a handful of coins and letting them slide through his fingers, listening to the soft clink.
"This… this is… unbelievable… I… I can't even imagine all of this," he muttered, slowly walking through the chamber. "Look at this… look at all these weapons… each one… perfect… and the gemstones… they're… incredible… I've never seen anything like this before!"
He bent down, examining a small dagger with a jade-encrusted hilt. "…And this… it's so finely made… how can anyone even craft something like this? Each one… every single piece…" His voice trailed off, awestruck.
Arvin's eyes darted to the gold again, picking up a few coins and letting them spill through his fingers once more. "…And the coins… there's so many… I've never even touched this much in my life… the weight, the shine… it's unreal…"
He looked up at a pedestal holding a longsword that glowed faintly. "…This one… it almost feels alive… like it's waiting for someone to use it… And all of this… it's all… mine?"
He stepped further into the chamber, eyes wide, pacing slowly as he took in every detail. "…The gemstones, the gold, the weapons… I can… I can come back anytime, from anywhere… this… this is insane… every corner of this place… it's unreal…"
He paused in the center of the vault, breathing slowly, running his hands over a pile of gold coins, turning a few gemstones in his fingers, and gently lifting a small sword. "…I… I don't even know how to describe it… all of this… just… mine… incredible…"
He straightened up, blinking rapidly, heart racing, a small, stunned smile forming on his face. "…This… this is amazing… I… I can't believe it…"
"I decided… I'll become an adventurer. I'll travel… and I'll grow stronger."
Arvin stood quietly in the center of the vault, his voice barely above a whisper.
His eyes moved slowly across the endless treasure surrounding him—gold piled higher than his waist, gemstones scattered like stars across the floor, weapons resting on ornate pedestals as if waiting for a chosen wielder.
"There's so much here…" he murmured. "If I'm going to walk this path… I should at least take what I'll need for adventuring."
He inhaled deeply, steadying himself.
"Hm… let's see…" he muttered to himself, already thinking ahead. "A few weapons… swords… and…"
His gaze shifted toward a nearby chest overflowing with potions. Glass vials glimmered softly inside, each filled with liquid of different hues—crimson, emerald, sapphire—each carrying a faint magical aura.
He walked over slowly and knelt beside it.
Carefully, he picked up several potions one by one, holding them up to the light. He examined their glowing contents, noting the clarity of the liquid, the thickness of each vial, and the faint pulse of mana drifting from within.
"These aren't ordinary…" he whispered. "High-grade… maybe even better…"
He selected a handful, making sure to balance practicality with restraint. No matter how tempting it was, he reminded himself not to be reckless.
Satisfied with his small haul, Arvin knelt down, holding his hand out in front of him, the Subspace Ring catching the vault's golden light.
"…Subspace open," he said clearly, testing the ring for the first time.
The space before him shimmered faintly.
The weapons and potions he had gathered lifted gently into the air, hovering for a brief moment before dissolving into light and being absorbed into the ring.
A familiar system notification appeared in glowing golden letters:
—SYSTEM NOTICE—
Item Stored:
Gold: 100
Weapons: 8 Swords, 1 Shield
Potions: 10 High-Grade Healing Potions
Effect: Instantly heals severe injuries, closes deep wounds, and restores strength
Arvin exhaled softly.
He stared at the floating notification, then slowly lowered his hand.
"So… it really works…"
He rotated his wrist slightly, studying the ring again. He ran a finger along its smooth surface, feeling the faint warmth it emitted, as though it were alive.
"…Alright," he said quietly, a calm satisfaction settling into his voice. "With this… everything is perfect."
He stood up slowly, brushing dust from his knees.
He adjusted the strap of his bag, making sure it sat comfortably against his shoulder, then straightened his posture. His eyes swept over the vault once more, taking in every detail—the gold, the gemstones, the ancient weapons, the silent history locked within these walls.
His heart beat steadily now.
No longer frantic.
No longer overwhelmed.
Focused.
"This place… it's more than just treasure," he murmured. "It's a beginning."
He walked slowly through the chamber one last time, fingers brushing against cool stone pillars, boots crunching softly against scattered coins.
Every step felt meaningful.
Every breath carried resolve.
"I'll become stronger," he whispered. "I'll explore this world… learn its dangers… meet its people…"
His gaze hardened slightly.
"And I won't waste this chance."
He stopped near the entrance, turning back once more to face the vault.
For several seconds, he simply stood there in silence.
"…Thank you," he said softly, bowing his head.
Then he turned toward the exit.
He took a deep breath.
"I should leave now."
He stepped toward the cave's exit, the glow of crystals fading behind him. But as he emerged into the forest, his heart froze. The cavern that had loomed before him—its massive entrance, the walls glittering with crystals, the stone door, the treasure chamber beyond—had disappeared without a trace.
Stepping carefully, he began leaving the cave. The walls around him shimmered faintly with clusters of crystals embedded in the stone, glowing softly in blue, green, and amber hues. The light reflected off the walls, casting dancing patterns across the floor as he moved.
"…These crystals… they're beautiful," he murmured, his eyes following the glow. "…And… they light the path perfectly…"
As he reached the cave entrance and stepped into the sunlight, the hidden cave behind him shifted subtly. The crystals' glow dimmed, the stone walls resealed, and the entrance seemed to vanish, returning to its natural, unassuming form. Arvin froze, blinking.
"…W-what…? It's… gone?" he whispered, his voice tinged with surprise. His heart raced for a moment, staring at the forest where the entrance had been.
Then he remembered the system's note about the vault. A small, relieved smile spread across his face.
"…Right… I can come back anytime. There's nothing to worry about," he said quietly to himself, his voice calm now. The knowledge settled him, easing the brief shock.
He took a deep breath, adjusted his bag, and turned toward the forest path and, walking steadily forward.
The forest's edge stretched before him, sunlight spilling through the trees. Arvin gripped the Iron Sword tightly, knuckles white. His heart pounded at every sound.
Small, translucent slimes slid toward him, wobbling slowly. A golden window appeared before him:
—SYSTEM NOTICE—
Appraisal Activated
Name: Slime
Level: 2
Attack: 2
Defense: 2
Arvin froze, eyes wide. I… I can see its stats? His hands shook, and his chest tightened. Fear clawed at him—these were monsters, after all.
But then he thought, Wait… Level 2, Attack 2, Defense 2… that's not much. I can do this… I have to try.
He swallowed hard and gripped the Iron Sword tighter. Hesitant, he raised it, trying to steady his shaking hands.
The first slime slid toward him. Arvin swung nervously. The blade connected, and the creature dissolved into faint glowing particles.
Another slime approached. He froze for a moment, but the memory of the stats steeled him. I… I just need to survive. He swung again. The slime split into glowing fragments.
A soft golden light pulsed around him as the system registered his growth.
—SYSTEM NOTICE—
LEVEL UP!
Level: 1 → 2
Strength: 3 → 4
Agility: 3 → 4
Vitality: 4 → 5
Magic: 3 → 4
Arvin's chest heaved. I… I feel it… I'm stronger already… He lifted the sword experimentally—it felt slightly lighter, more responsive.
More slimes slid into view. Each swing was cautious, measured, and each slime dissolved into shimmering light.
—SYSTEM NOTICE—
LEVEL UP!
Level: 2 → 3
Strength: 4 → 5
Agility: 4 → 5
Vitality: 5 → 6
Magic: 4 → 5
Arvin stumbled back, panting, but a tiny thrill ran through him. I… I'm really getting stronger…
The remaining slimes advanced. He swung carefully, dodging their slow attacks. Each hit made him more aware of his growing strength and speed.
—SYSTEM NOTICE—
LEVEL UP!
Level: 3 → 4
Strength: 5 → 6
Agility: 5 → 6
Vitality: 6 → 7
Magic: 5 → 6
Finally, the last few slimes were gone. Arvin sank to one knee, exhausted, arms trembling.
—SYSTEM NOTICE—
LEVEL UP!
Level: 4 → 5
Strength: 6 → 7
Agility: 6 → 7
Vitality: 7 → 8
Magic: 6 → 7
He lifted the Iron Sword slowly, testing its weight. It… it feels lighter… easier… I can swing it without struggling.
A small, cautious smile formed on his face. Step by step… I just need to survive… I can do this.
For the first time, the sword didn't feel like a burden. It felt like something he could really use—something that might keep him alive.