The dim light of an autumn morning slipped through the glass of Noah's small room. A young man of twenty, with black hair, dark eyes, pale skin, and an average height, was retying his worn-out shoes."Seven twelve," he muttered to himself, grabbing the battered lunchbox his mother had left. "If I'm late again, they'll cancel my contract this time. Damn it—why didn't the alarm wake me up?"
The bus screeched to a stop in front of the museum. Noah jumped out, slipped in through the back door into the locker room, and threw on his uniform. Luckily, the department manager hadn't noticed his delay.
Noah had never planned to become an archaeologist. He hadn't even planned to stay at the "Lost Heritage Museum" for more than a month. But circumstances forced him to accept the position of "cleaning assistant" for a meager wage—just enough so he wouldn't be considered unemployed. He hated the place: the stench of ancient dust, the arrogant stares of his colleagues, and the way artifacts were treated like living beings while he was nothing more than a cheap pair of hands to move and scrub them.
"Noah! The black statue in the restoration room is ready for transport to the east hall. Put on the gloves and do it quickly!" barked the section chief without looking up from his files.
The statue was small, no larger than the palm of a hand, carved from glossy black stone etched with strange patterns, and inlaid with a blood-red glass eye. "The Heart of Ilthar," the placard read. Noah had heard rumors from his coworkers: an artifact of a lost civilization, a gateway to other worlds, with warnings never to touch the red eye.
"Utter nonsense. Just stories to lure curious visitors. If that civilization was truly so advanced, it wouldn't have collapsed the moment the water levels shifted," Noah whispered, pulling on a pair of torn gloves. His hands trembled from exhaustion, his mind distracted by a message he'd received an hour earlier from his old friend: "Did you hear about the job openings in the new city? You could start tomorrow—they've got plenty of slots for fresh grads!"
Balancing the statue in one hand while holding his phone in the other to reply, Noah's foot slid on a puddle carelessly left on the floor.
"No, no, no—!"
The statue slipped through his fingers, crashing against the sharp edge of the restoration table. The red glass eye shattered into fragments, and cracks ripped through the black stone as if it were screaming.
In an instant, the air grew heavy and sharp like glass. Blue energy burst from the broken relic, devouring everything in the room. For a heartbeat, Noah glimpsed Sarah—the young archaeologist whispering an urgent message to Clay, the soldier contracted by the museum to guard rare artifacts and visitors. He also saw Fred, the architect who had examined the statue only hours earlier. But before he could shout, darkness swallowed him.
Noah awoke to the pounding of drums in his skull. The stench of damp earth and blood filled his nostrils. Opening his eyes, he found himself beneath the low ceiling of a cavern, its rocky walls glittering with eerie blue crystals. His body was wrapped in a rough, torn garment, a chain clamped to his left wrist and linked to dozens of other men around him—all armed with rusted wooden pickaxes.
"Wake up, dog!" A heavy boot slammed into his side. Noah looked up to see a hulking man clad in blood-stained armor, brandishing an electrified whip sparking blue. "Work started an hour ago! Want to eat today, or starve?"
Noah's mind reeled. "Where am I? What—?"
"The world you deserve, slave!" The man laughed and lashed the whip. The strike seared into Noah's flesh with a jolt of burning electricity. His eyes reddened as he screamed, but no sound escaped, only a convulsion of pain. "Why—why—?!"
Before he could finish, a glowing screen materialized in front of his eyes, floating in midair:
Class System – Automatic ActivationThe value of a human is measured by their class.
Core Laws:
Your class decides your fate.
The only power respected is class power.
The classless remain nothing—unless they earn it.
Stats:
Rank: F
Class: Stranger (Unclassified X)
Strength: F (Physical ability. Avg adult w/out class = E)Vitality: F- (Healing & recovery rate. Avg adult w/out class = E)Perception: F+ (Awareness & analysis ability. Avg adult w/out class = G)
Scale: G < F < E < D < C < B < A
Gasping, Noah scanned the strange display."Class? What kind of madness is this?" he whispered, while the other workers hacked at stone with their pickaxes as if the screen didn't exist for them.
"Don't waste my time!" the officer growled, snapping the whip against Noah's bare hand. A spark of blue lightning shot forward—but fizzled into nothing before touching his skin. The man frowned. "You're lucky we're short on slaves." His eyes narrowed in warning, then he stalked away.
In the corner of the cavern, Noah sat chained, trying to process it all. He remembered Rosa screaming before the world collapsed, Clay pulling her back from the statue, Fred muttering: "This isn't coincidence… we were summoned."
But they were gone. Only he remained.
Raising his trembling hand, Noah tapped the single option that pulsed on the glowing screen:
StrangerOne who was never meant to belong to this world.
Alert: Class "Stranger" Activated
Abilities:
Absolute immunity to class-based effects (cannot be controlled, drained, or tracked by other classes).
[Locked]
Drawbacks:
Marked as prey by all who fear the unknown.
Warning:
The system shows no mercy to the weak.Grow stronger—or be erased.
"So… I'm not a slave," Noah whispered, his eyes following the officer. This new world might not spare the weak—But no one ever said the weak couldn't become strong.