The Aetheric Shield Plaza of the Kingdom of Valkor was usually a place of restless noise, but today, the atmosphere was different. A heavy mixture of frantic excitement and stifling dread hung in the air. Towering walls of obsidian stone separated the plaza from the Black Zone—on the other side lay an unknown peril; on this side, the decree of fate.
The official standing upon the central dais wore armor so polished it blinded the eye, reflecting the sun like a symbol of judge and executioner rather than a mere man. Today, every seventeen-year-old would undergo the Class Awakening Ceremony. For some, this ritual meant honor; for others, a lifelong shackle.
Ryan Ardam stood silently amidst the crowd. His palms were slick with sweat, his heart hammering against his ribs. He scanned his surroundings: some, dressed in finery, laughed with unearned confidence; others kept their heads bowed, already accepting defeat. Ryan stood between the two—suspended between hope and doubt.
When his name finally echoed through the plaza, something inside him turned to ice.
He ascended the dais. With every step, the plaza seemed to grow quieter. The Awakening Monolith loomed before him, a pillar of black stone with azure veins pulsing through it like the arteries of a living creature. The Monolith was no mere machine; it was the silent witness of the kingdom's history, the arbiter of a thousand destinies.
Ryan pressed his hand against the cold surface.
In an instant, a surge of heat raced through his body. On the left side of his chest, at the precise point of his sole ERTA vein, a searing burn erupted. It wasn't quite pain, but it wasn't pleasant either—it felt as though a dormant power was clawing its way to the surface.
Seconds stretched into an eternity.
The light within the Monolith slowly bled into a crimson hue.
Whispers began to ripple through the plaza.
The official's voice rang out, cold and flat: "Ryan Ardam. Class: Mechanic. ERTA Reserve: Critically Low."
As the red glow faded, something inside Ryan seemed to extinguish along with it.
Mechanic.
The word meant he was no warrior. No mage. He was of the caste that stayed behind the shields, repairing the weapons of others but never standing on the front lines himself.
Laughter erupted from the crowd. Someone mockingly called out, "Shop boy!" Ryan didn't lift his head. He had expected this reaction, yet it still cut deep.
Then, he saw Elara.
Elara had already received her verdict—Mage. She was surrounded by a throng of admirers, her face glowing with the brilliance of newfound potential. She didn't spare Ryan a single glance.
Ryan descended from the dais.
A strange sensation lingered within him. Yes, his ERTA reserve was low. Yes, the Monolith was never wrong. But his vein was still burning. He had never heard of such a violent reaction in ordinary mechanics.
He leaned against a wall and took a deep breath. If fate hadn't granted him the strength of a warrior, then he would have to build something stronger than any warrior.
He understood the inner workings of things. He could see how they functioned, where they were fragile, and where they were strong. This wasn't just a talent; it was an innate ability to sense the system.
Gazing toward the Black Zone, he acknowledged the thought slowly forming in his mind: Broken things aren't always dead. Sometimes, when they are put back together, they return as something else—something more powerful.
If the world gave him little power, he would forge his own.
With that thought, Ryan left the plaza. Laughter echoed behind him, while an unknown path awaited ahead. But he knew one thing for certain: his story would not end here.
After the ceremony, the city resumed its usual rhythm, but for Ryan, every sound felt distant, as if coming from underwater. He headed straight to his workshop. Tucked near the outer wall, it was a place frequented only by mechanics and low-caste laborers. The air here—thick with humidity, rust, and the scent of burnt ERTA—felt like home. It was safe, familiar, and filled with invisible possibilities.
Closing the door, he stood in silence. The crimson light of the Monolith haunted his mind. "Critically low." The words sounded like a life sentence. Yet, the ERTA vein in his chest remained hot. In ordinary mechanics, the energy should have dissipated quickly after the ritual. In him, something was still moving, as if the system hadn't reached a final verdict.
Ryan sat at his workbench, cluttered with broken mechanisms, scrap metal, and a few small ERTA stones. He could see the internal structure of these objects—where the pressure built up, where the fractures would form. If he wasn't given the strength to fight, perhaps he was meant to build it.
He didn't hesitate. He grabbed his old bag, packed a pair of pliers, a small hammer, and an iron rod, then pried open the hidden hatch at the back of the shop. He had known this path since childhood—an old sewer pipe that ran beneath the wall and led straight into the Black Zone. Entry through the official gates was impossible, especially for a newly awakened mechanic with a low ERTA reserve.
The air in the tunnel was thick and foul. Moisture dripped from the walls, and the stench was nearly unbearable. But Ryan felt the energy in his veins intensifying. As he neared the Black Zone, the ERTA density increased. His vein responded—the warm pulsation in his chest grew stronger, as if guiding him.
When he emerged from the pipe, he froze. The sky was a bruised purple, with a reddish glow flickering between the clouds. Tiny motes of light drifted through the air—the ERTA energy was so dense it had become visible. The trees were twisted, their bark blackened and limbs thorny. The ground was damp and uneven.
This place was alive. And it was dangerous.
He heard the first rustle. A small, shadow-like creature darted through the roots. An Aetheric Rat—a low-level beast. But low-level didn't mean harmless.
Ryan gripped the iron rod tightly and stepped forward. The creature moved again. This time, he struck. The rod clipped the beast, but not fully. The rat spun around and lunged for his leg. Its teeth pierced through his trousers, tearing into his skin. The pain was sharper than he expected.
Ryan swung again, a low blow. This time, it connected. The creature shuddered and went still.
A shimmering text appeared in the air—something he had never seen before: Aetheric Rat neutralized. Soul Shard dropped.
A glowing blue fragment of energy lay pulsating on the ground. Ryan picked it up carefully. The shard wasn't cold; it throbbed with life. The moment he touched it, his vein reacted—the heat spiked. Another notification appeared: Soul Shard absorbed. ERTA Reserve: 12 -> 15.
Ryan took a deep breath. This wasn't just growth. This was accumulation. A mechanic builds. If warriors draw strength from within, perhaps he could harvest it from without.
He pushed further. The second and third encounters were no easier. Every strike came with a price of pain. Once, he lost his balance and fell, and the creature latched onto his arm. He had to crush it with his pliers. Blood dripped from his palm, but he didn't stop. With every shard absorbed, his vein pulsed with more authority.
By the ninth shard, he felt the difference. His breathing stabilized; his movements grew precise. But exhaustion was also mounting. The Black Zone was unforgiving. It waited for you to slip.
When he absorbed the ninth shard, the world went silent. It was an unnatural quiet. His vein constricted sharply. He spun around.
A larger figure emerged from the shadows of the trees. This was no rat. Its body was denser, its eyes glowing with a violet light, its claws long and razor-sharp. The energy in Ryan's veins began to flicker erratically.
An interface tried to identify the creature but warned of insufficient data.
Ryan took a step back. He was exhausted, his rod was near breaking, and his body was covered in scratches. Could he run? Maybe. But the beast was already coiled, ready to spring.
In that heartbeat, the nine souls in his vein ignited simultaneously. A pain like his chest was being torn open flared up. The beast leaped.
Instinctively, Ryan thrust his hand forward.
A bolt of blue light exploded.
A wave of energy slammed into the beast mid-air, hurling it back several paces. Ryan fell to his knees, gasping for air. What was that? He hadn't done it consciously.
The interface blinked slowly: Soul Capacity full. New ability forming.
Ryan looked at the beast lying on the ground. It was still alive but gravely wounded. If he didn't leave now, other predators would come.
He retreated. Today was enough.
The scent of the Black Zone was no longer just fear. It was the scent of opportunity.
And Ryan now understood: he might have been born with low ERTA, but he had awakened with a mechanism unlike any other.