The full moon hung high in the sky, casting its silver glow across the room. Its light slipped through the window, merging with the whisper of the night breeze.
At the foot of the bed, a woman cradled her newborn, her touch gentle and tender. Beside her stood a towering figure, his eyes gleaming like molten gold. Broad and commanding, his very presence seemed to fill the space—yet his gaze seemed soft and filled with quiet, unspoken wonder.
'Is that... my father?' the child thought, a fleeting notion drifting like a cloud.
The man stood over 190cm tall, with well-defined muscles carved perfectly into his large frame. His jet-black hair and strikingly handsome face easily surpassed any man the child had seen on Earth.
But the child's gaze soon shifted—to the woman holding him. His mother.
'No...' His breath caught. 'She's a goddess.'
Her silver hair flowed down onto the bed below while glistening in moonlight. Her emerald-green eyes radiated warmth. Her features—graceful and elegant—They were simply too perfect to be real. Not even the most beautiful models he knew could compare.
"Congratulations, Lord Damian. You have a healthy son," said a man as he stepped forward. His glasses caught the moonlight, and his coat swayed with a weight that spoke of knowledge and quiet authority.
'A doctor? the child wondered, still hazy in thought.'
A woman dressed in a maid's uniform bowed as the doctor passed. He turned to Damian, the tall man, and asked, "Shall I proceed with the status appraisal, my lord?"
At those words, a jolt of excitement surged through the infant's tiny body.
'Status appraisal...? The thought rang like a bell. Is that... magic? A system? Like in those stories?'
The doctor approached, voice soft. "Status reveal."
A translucent screen flickered into view, shimmering with soft blue light.
The child's eyes widened. Time seemed to freeze.
'It's real...' he thought.
"Lord Damian," the doctor said, glancing at the screen. "You've yet to name him."
Damian blinked, then turned to his wife. "Ah, right... Um"
"Arthur," she whispered gently, surprised by the sudden name that came to her lips. "It suits him, don't you think?"
"Amelia," Damian called out "That sounds wonderful"
Amelia smiled, eyes lingering on her loving son. "Arthur Sylvia," she said, the name final. "Our son."
Golden letters glowed on the screen in response.
---
Name: Arthur Sylvia
Class: None
HP: 10/10
MP: 5/5
STR: 1
INT: 2
AGI: 1
DEX: 1
END: 1
---
This is my status... the child mused. So this is where I am now. A quiet sigh touched his soul. This is my family, huh...
A flicker of sadness passed through him—but it vanished just as quickly.
"Arthur?" Amelia's voice was soft, sensing the change in the room. She held him close and began to hum a lullaby—gentle, comforting and full of love.
A smile tugged at his lips. It's been a long time since I felt this warm.
Maybe this isn't so bad... after all.
•••
Five Years Later…
"Haaah!!!"
Arthur roared, dashing forward, his wooden sword slicing through the air with fierce intent. His ruby-red eyes gleamed with determination, white hair swaying with each movement.
For a five-year-old, his frame was already well-toned—lean and strong, his movements graceful and controlled.
But just as his strike neared, Damian took a single step to the side, easily dodging the attack.
"Huh?!"
Before Arthur could react, Damian's sword intercepted his own with practiced ease. The impact sent a shock through Arthur's arms, making him stagger backward.
"Too predictable," Damian said calmly, lowering his sword. "Again."
Arthur tightened his grip, teeth clenched. That wasn't just speed...
His father moved like a master. No, like a monster.
"You're thinking too much again," Damian warned. He raised his blade, its edge catching the morning sun. "Come, Arthur. Once more."
Arthur charged again—only to get utterly outclassed. Like always.
"Haah!" he panted, lowering his sword. "I surrender…"
"That so?" Damian teased. "You know, for your age, you're not bad. But you've got a long way to go."
Arthur forced a smile. Geez, old man. Go easy on your kid once in a while, would you?
He wiped sweat from his brow. "Father… how did you get so strong?"
Damian chuckled, resting the sword on his shoulder. "This? Just talent and hard work… Though I'm more curious why you keep pushing yourself like this. As a noble, you could take the easy road."
'The easy road, huh...' Arthur thought before shaking his head.
"Not an option," he said with a small smile. "I want to grow strong—strong enough to protect you and Mother."
The wind swept past, lifting his hair as his words drifted into the sky.
Damian regarded him quietly, then smiled. "So that's your ambition?"
His golden eyes gleamed. "A noble one. But strength alone won't be enough."
Arthur blinked. "Then what else do I need?"
"Power. True power," Damian said. "It comes from understanding your abilities—your class, your skills, your instincts. Those are what shape your path."
"My class?" Arthur tilted his head.
"Exactly," Damian said. "A class isn't just a title—it's the foundation of your growth. It determines how you fight, what you learn, and what limits you'll break."
He stepped back slightly. "My class is Paladin of Light."
At those words, a golden aura flickered to life around Damian, calm yet radiant.
Arthur's eyes widened. "Th-that's… magic!"
Damian nodded. "As the Paladin of Light, I wield divine energy—the power of the goddess Solana. With her blessing, I can strengthen my body, heal wounds, and much more."
Arthur's hands gripped his sword tighter. A class with strength and magic? His father really was a monster.
"But there's a price," Damian added. "My soul is bound to Solana. I don't regret it though. As long as I can protect you and your mother, it's worth everything."
He looked down at his son. "So… what kind of class do you want?"
Arthur paused, unsure. He hadn't thought that far yet.
Before he could answer, a voice interrupted.
"What are you two talking about?"
Amelia approached, silver hair swaying with the wind.
Mother... Amelia Sylvia.
"We were just talking about what my class might be," Arthur said.
"Oh?" She smiled and knelt beside him, brushing a hand through his hair. "Mind if I join?"
"Go ahead," Damian said, smirking. "Might be good for him to hear from both of us."
Amelia chuckled as she sat beside them on the grass. "Alright then."
She looked at Arthur with warmth. "You can only awaken your class at age ten. And the type you get depends on the experiences you've gained before then."
"For example, if you focus only on strength, you'll unlock strength-based classes like a warrior. The same goes for intelligence with magic based classes."
She paused, then added with a proud grin, "And classes have ranks—Common, Uncommon, Rare, Epic, and Legendary. Your father and I both have Legendary ones. He's a Paladin of Light…"
She winked. "And I'm an Archmage."
…Her smile widened. "It's amazing right?" She teased
Arthur blinked. "Archmage?"
Amelia giggled at his expression. "Yes, an Archmage. One who commands every elemental force of magic. Fire, water, wind, earth, lightning… even space and time if trained hard enough." She leaned closer, her emerald eyes sparkling. "But don't let it go to your head. It took me years of brutal training to get there."
Arthur's eyes lit up with awe. "So… you're a magic genius too?"
"I wouldn't say genius," she said modestly. "Just someone who never stopped pushing forward."
Damian chuckled, stretching slightly. "Don't let her fool you. She was already casting spells at the age of five."
Amelia playfully rolled her eyes. "And you were already swinging swords like a madman by then."
They both laughed, and for a moment, Arthur watched the scene with quiet joy.
They're so strong… and yet they smile like this. Like everything is okay. Even though I… I don't even know what path I'm meant to walk yet.
Amelia placed a gentle hand on Arthur's chest, just above his heart.
"Listen, Arthur," she said softly. "A class doesn't define who you are—it only reflects the path you've walked. So walk proudly, explore, learn everything you can. That's how the world will shape the perfect class for you."
Arthur nodded slowly. "Then… if I train in everything, could I get something even stronger?"
Damian raised an eyebrow. "Now that's a bold idea."
Amelia smiled thoughtfully. "It's rare… but not impossible. There have been cases of those who created unique classes—hybrids born from mastering multiple disciplines."
Damian crossed his arms. "But such ambition comes at a cost. Spreading yourself too thin might lead to failure in all areas."
Arthur met his father's eyes. "Then I'll just have to train harder than anyone else."
There was silence.
Then Damian let out a hearty laugh. "You really are my son."
Amelia leaned over and kissed his forehead. "Just promise us you won't rush. Power gained too quickly often burns too bright and fades too soon."
Arthur smiled. "I promise."
A gust of wind swept through the field, carrying with it the scent of wildflowers and the faint echo of chiming bells from the estate's chapel tower.
'So this is my new world… My new family… My new path.'
Arthur tightened his grip on the wooden sword once more.
I don't know what class I'll awaken… but I'll make it the strongest one this world's ever seen. Even if I have to forge it myself.
And so, beneath the morning sun, the boy who had once died in another world braced himself for the path of ahead.