Got it
"Thunk."
A young man carried a stack of plywood up the stairs of an unfinished building. Around him, the site buzzed with hammering, sawing, and the steady roar of machinery.
By the time he reached the fifth floor, sweat dotted his brow. He set the boards onto a growing pile.
"That's all we'll need," a middle-aged man called out.
The young man adjusted his hard hat with a quick nod.
"Run down to the trucks and grab the concrete nails. I told Kyle to bring them up twenty minutes ago, but I'm sure he's on his phone again," the man said with a shake of his head.
The young man didn't reply. He simply turned and headed back down the stairs.
"Am I the only one who's never heard him speak?" another worker muttered as the boy disappeared below.
"No," the middle-aged man answered. "It's strange, but nobody comes here to socialize. Besides—he's one of the hardest-working young men I've seen."
Malachi made his way down the stairs, weaving past workers carrying tools and lumber. At the base of the building, he headed toward the trucks, eyes set on the toolbox where the concrete nails were usually kept.
As he reached for the box, Kyle stepped out from behind the truck.
"About time," Kyle said, snatching the box out of Malachi's hands. "Boss was on my case about this. You're too slow."
Malachi only adjusted his grip on his gloves and went for another load without arguing. He never did. Instead, he helped haul a few extra supplies out of the truck bed—bags of cement mix, a roll of wire—working in steady silence.
Then a sudden crack split the air. A heavy steel beam tore loose from its rigging above. It crashed down with terrifying speed, pinning a worker against the concrete.
The site went still. For a heartbeat, nobody dared move.
Then one of the men bolted forward. With a roar, he braced himself under the beam and lifted—lifting with strength no ordinary person should have. The metal groaned as he held it just high enough for others to pull the trapped worker free.
Gasps broke out across the site. Everyone knew what they had just seen.
When half the world's population vanished, they returned with stories of another place—six months of survival in a world of monsters and magic, though only a month had passed here. Some came back broken. Some came back… changed. Powers like the ones described in their tales had bled into reality.
And then, not long after, the monsters themselves appeared.
Malachi froze. The scene of the beam collapsing blurred into memories he couldn't push away—jagged teeth in the dark, the stench of blood, desperate hands reaching. His chest tightened, his vision slipping.
"Malachi!" someone shouted, jolting him back.
He blinked, realizing the worker had already been freed, rushed to a truck to be taken to the hospital. The beam lay discarded, the man who had lifted it standing apart, shaken and silent.
Malachi swallowed hard and steadied his breathing. Without a word, he picked up a handful of nails and started back toward the building.
------------
By the time the sun dipped low, the foreman handed out the day's pay. Malachi took his envelope with a nod and slipped it into his pocket. The walk back was uneventful, just the dull rhythm of his boots against the pavement.
His apartment was as plain as ever—a single room with a bed pressed against the wall, a small table by the window, and a kitchenette tucked into the corner. No clutter, no warmth. Just enough to live.
He set his hard hat down on the table, kicked off his boots, and sat in silence for a while.
Six years, he thought. Six years since half the planet vanished in an instant. That's the only thing remotely interesting that's ever happened in my life—and I wasn't even part of it. Didn't disappear. Didn't come back with scars or powers or stories about fighting for survival. Just… stayed here. Same as always.
He sighed and heated up a simple meal—rice, eggs, and whatever vegetables were left in his fridge. Eating alone was a routine, not a bother anymore, but it deepened the quiet.
Later, he lay back on his bed, scrolling through his phone. Newsfeeds were crowded with clips of "awakened" individuals—people showing off powers they'd gained. Some were returnees from the other world, but others had awakened here, after facing monsters themselves. The chance was slim, but not impossible.
One video showed a man wreathed in flames, another a woman moving faster than the camera could follow. Comment sections buzzed with awe, envy, and fear.
Malachi stopped scrolling, staring blankly at the ceiling.
The anchors on the news had said it often enough: in the six months after monsters first appeared, a quarter of Earth's population was wiped out. Cities burned. Families vanished overnight.
The world was still standing, somehow, but Malachi had never felt smaller.
Six years was a long time. Long enough, you'd think, for the government or the military to figure out what the hell was going on. But they hadn't. The monsters still appeared when they pleased, tearing through towns, and the criminals who awakened powers were almost as bad. The people in charge were too busy putting out fires—literally and otherwise.
Schools were screwed, too. Prices had shot through the roof for everything—tuition, books, even basic supplies. At eighteen, Malachi didn't stand a chance at college. Trade school wasn't an option either; most of them had shut down when businesses collapsed. So, construction was all that was left—hard work, low pay, but steady.
He leaned back against the wall of his cramped apartment, finishing the last bite of his meal.
All in all, the world's fucked, he thought flatly. And I'm just scraping by in the middle of it.
His phone screen glowed in the dim room, newsfeeds filled with people flaunting new powers, "awakened" abilities. It felt like everyone else was being pulled into something larger than life, while he was stuck here, clocking in and out, carrying plywood and nails.
All in all, the world's fucked, he thought. And I'm just scraping by in the middle of it.
His phone buzzed, pulling him from the monotony of the newsfeed. A new message popped up:
"Payment confirmed: Time for monster subjugation 9:00 a.m."
Malachi stared at it for a moment. A small spark flickered in his chest—just a hint of something he hadn't felt in a long time.
Maybe… just maybe, he thought. If someone could awaken by fighting a monster, there's a chance. Slim, but a boy's gotta dream.
He shook his head, the practical part of him stepping back in. Still… you can't do this alone. Even the simplest monster can kill a person in seconds. Without an awakened to back you up, it's suicide.
--------
Malachi left his apartment early the next morning, the envelope of his day's pay still in his pocket, and headed toward the outskirts of the city. The streets were quiet this early, the sun just brushing the skyline, and his mind raced with the possibilities.
Ryu was waiting where the abandoned lot met the forested edge of the city. Without greeting, he motioned for Malachi to follow.
"No time to waste," Ryu said. "There's a dungeon just beyond here. Unreported, small, but active. Perfect for your first step."
Malachi's chest tightened. Dungeon? Monster? First step? He nodded, following without question.
They moved silently through the underbrush, Ryu keeping pace with a predator's precision. Soon, a faint hum of energy reached them, and a shadow loomed ahead—a hulking creature, scales glinting in the weak sunlight, claws scraping the ground.
Ryu crouched behind a ruined wall. "We'll weaken it first. You don't just charge in. You watch, learn, and strike at the right moment. One by one, we chip it down."
Malachi swallowed hard. The monster's eyes glinted, and he felt the same raw fear and thrill that had pulsed through the world six years ago when monsters first appeared.
Ryu darted out, striking at the monster with precision. Each hit left a mark, drawing its attention, forcing it to move, to expose weak points. Malachi stayed back, studying the creature—its movements, its rhythm, its tells.
Minutes stretched. Sweat ran down his temple. The monster reared, claws slashing, but Ryu dodged and struck again, drawing it toward Malachi.
Now or never, he thought.
He stepped forward. His hand went to the hilt of a simple knife Ryu had lent him, and he lunged at the creature's exposed side. The blade bit deep, and a surge of energy coursed through him—the world seemed to pause.
The monster collapsed with a final roar, and Malachi staggered back, heart pounding. Ryu clapped a hand on his shoulder.
"You did it," Ryu said quietly, awe in his voice. "You struck the finishing blow. That's the first step. From here… you awaken."
Malachi barely breathed, staring at the fallen monster. For the first time in years, the world felt different—not broken, not hopeless. Something new had begun.
Suddenly, a bright red panel blinked into existence right in front of Malachi's eyes. He stumbled back, heart hammering.
(You have awakened and unlocked the Guild Master Job Title — S+ Rank)
The words glowed, impossible to ignore.
Malachi's jaw tightened. What… is this?
"You good, bro?" Ryu called, still catching his breath from the fight. "I know awakening isn't easy. Some people kill hundreds of monsters and never awaken, so you're pretty lucky."
Malachi glanced at him. Ryu was calm, casual— as if completely unaware of the glowing panel hovering in front of Malachi's vision.
He doesn't see it, Malachi realized. This… whatever this is, it's just for me.
The panel flickered, shifting like broken glass before reassembling into something stranger—something almost game-like.
[Status Panel]
Name :Malachi Grey
Title: Guild Master (S+)
Level: 1
XP: 0 / 1000
Attributes:
Strength: 8
Agility: 7
Endurance: 8
Intelligence: 6
Perception: 6
Skills:
[Locked]
[Locked]
[Locked]
Malachi's throat went dry. He'd heard all the stories about awakenings—super strength, elemental powers, enhanced senses—but this? Floating panels? Stats? A job title? Nobody had ever described anything like it.
"What the hell…" he muttered under his breath.
Ryu frowned, misinterpreting his shock. "Hey, don't overthink it. You awakened, that's all that matters. Whatever power you got, you'll figure it out when it kicks in. For now, let's get you out of here alive."
Malachi gave a stiff nod, forcing himself to push the panel to the back of his mind. But as they made their way back toward the dungeon's exit, his thoughts churned.
If no one else has seen anything like this… then why me?
They exited the dungeon and the night sky greeted them.
As Malachi turned to leave, Ryu's voice cut through the night, low and edged with menace.
"Don't tell a soul about this," he said flatly. "And don't think I don't know who you are—you didn't even bother with a fake name. Next time you meet someone shady, at least bring something to defend yourself. Otherwise…" He let the words hang, the unspoken threat sharp enough to make Malachi's stomach tighten.
Malachi swallowed hard, nodding without looking back.
---------
As Malachi walked back home, the red panel still lingered stubbornly in his vision, glowing faintly against the night sky. He kept glancing at it, half-expecting it to vanish like some stress-induced hallucination.
But it didn't.
His eyes drifted to a tiny arrow beside the word Attribute. It looked almost like a menu icon from a mobile game. He hesitated, his hand hovering in the air. No way this actually… works, right?
Curiosity won. He reached out and tapped it.
The panel flickered for a second before unfolding into a larger window. Lines of glowing text appeared, neat and crisp, as if they had been waiting for him all along:
[Strength (STR): Increases physical power. Determines how hard you hit and how much weight you can carry.
Dexterity (DEX): Enhances agility, reaction speed, and precision. Affects accuracy in combat and movement efficiency.
Endurance (END): Boosts stamina, defense, and resistance to fatigue. Higher values increase survivability.
Intelligence (INT): Governs magical affinity, problem-solving, and efficiency of skill use.
Wisdom (WIS): Increases mana control, perception, and resistance to mental attacks.
Charisma (CHA): Affects leadership, persuasion, and the loyalty of allies.]
Malachi stared, his mouth slightly open.
"...This is literally like a game."
But the word Guild Master in blazing red letters at the top of the screen reminded him it wasn't just for fun.
This was his reality now.
Malachi pressed what looked like a back arrow, and the screen returned to its earlier layout. His eyes caught another small arrow, this one beside the word Title.
His finger hovered for a moment before he tapped.
The panel shifted again, unfolding new lines of text written in the same glowing script:
[Title Effects:
Guild Master (S+): Grants access to a unique system interface. Permanently allows the user to buff allies.
S+ Rank: Significantly increases potential for combat ability, strategic decision-making, and overall growth rate.]
Malachi blinked. "...Buff allies? Unique system?" He muttered under his breath, trying to make sense of it. Nobody had ever mentioned anything like this—at least not in public.
If this was real, he wasn't just some average awakener. He had something no one else seemed to have.
And that could either make him invaluable... or put a massive target on his back.
Malachi was glad he hadn't mentioned anything to Ryu—if that was even his real name. As he studied the panel again, he noticed that all the skills were locked. He figured it was probably because his level was too low, and the only way to raise it was by killing monsters, just like in games.
That, however, was easier said than done. Every dungeon except unreported ones was controlled by either the government or powerful guilds—the majority belonging to the government. He could apply for a license through the Association, but that meant explaining how he had awakened, and he wasn't ready to reveal that.
Unless… his thoughts drifted back to Ryu and the unreported dungeon. Maybe he could test himself there, see if killing more goblins would raise his level. But there was a catch: money. He had already paid Ryu $5,000 just to help him attempt awakening—money that came with no guarantees and no refunds. Getting access to an unregistered dungeon was risky, which was why deals like that were handled under the table.
Malachi still had about $10,000 in savings. If things went well, the returns could make it worth the risk.
He snapped out of his thoughts when he realized he was only a couple of blocks from his apartment. The sky was already dark. Time flowed differently inside dungeons—he remembered entering around 9:30 in the morning, yet his phone now read 7:24 p.m. Some dungeons could swallow hours inside while days passed outside, and others the reverse.
As his mind drifted back to the panel, the translucent screen still hovered in his vision. It was more of a nuisance than anything. Then, as he wished it away, it simply vanished.
The sudden obedience unsettled him. He hadn't spoken, hadn't pressed anything—just thought about it, and the panel responded. Like it could read his mind.
----------
By the time Malachi reached his apartment, his legs felt like lead. He barely managed to lock the door before slumping onto the couch, his head sinking back against the worn cushions. The past three hours had drained him more than he wanted to admit.
For a moment, he just sat there, breathing, and let the silence of the room wrap around him. A little of the resentment he carried toward the world—the unfairness of it, the way it seemed stacked against him—lifted from his chest. Just a little, but enough to notice.
He wasn't a social person. He didn't chase friends or crowds, never cared for gatherings. But this—this small, unlikely victory—felt like the first step toward something he could finally call his own.
As the thought crossed his mind, the panel blinked back into existence at his command, solidifying the truth: his life had shifted onto an entirely different path.
His eyes lingered on the bold line that named him Guild Master. The title alone pressed a new weight onto his shoulders. Guild Master… that meant recruiting people, leading them, taking responsibility. That wasn't him. Not yet.
Malachi exhaled, long and tired, shutting the panel away again. That was a problem for another day. For now, all he wanted was rest. And as exhaustion finally pulled him under, he thought only of sleep, not the unknown road that had already begun unfolding before him.