The sound that marked the beginning of another miserable day wasn't that of a rift tearing open, but the relentless banging on the rotten wood of his cubicle's door.
"Kael! The rent! Mr. Silva won't wait any longer!" shrilled the landlady's voice from the other side.
Kael Viridian didn't answer. He was already awake, staring at the translucent blue interface of the Global Hunter System that had hovered in his peripheral vision like a curse since he turned sixteen. The stats never changed. They never changed.
Name: Kael Viridian Rank:F Primary Attributes:
· Strength: 6
· Agility: 7
· Vigor: 5
· Essence: 2Skills:[None] Title:[TheIncapable] - Reduces EXP gain by 10%. Applies a penalty to guild missions.
The title was the part that hurt the most. It wasn't just about being weak; it was the System officially stamping him as an error, a factory defect in a world where a person's worth was determined by numbers and letters.
He dragged himself out of bed, avoiding the floorboard that creaked and would alert the landlady he was, in fact, home. His single room was a monument to failure: peeling walls, his one piece of hunter gear—a common, unenchanted iron dagger—hanging on a nail, and a small hologram of a news clip from years ago, showing a smiling boy being tested on Awakening Day. The hope on that face was so pathetic it was painful to look at now.
His world wasn't like the old books. It was a fractured one. Thirty years ago, the First Portals appeared, tearing open the sky and spewing out monsters and an alien energy they called Aether. Humanity wasn't wiped out. Instead, it adapted. It learned to channel Aether, awakening attributes and skills. The Global Hunter System was established to classify, organize, and send people into the Portals to fight, gather resources, and, hopefully, strengthen humanity against the interdimensional threat.
And then, there were the Constellations. Cosmic entities who watched from their distant realms, betting on human champions, granting blessings in exchange for entertainment. They were the gods of this new world, and their favor was the difference between legend and obscurity.
Kael was the definition of obscurity. Worse than obscurity: he was a known joke.
He slipped out through the bathroom window, shimmying down the old fire escape with an agility his 7 points didn't reflect—years of practice in the art of not getting caught. His destination was the Low-Level Assignment Center, a grimy, gray booth on the fringe of the commercial district where other F-Ranks like him clustered to pick up the scraps.
The city was a violent contrast. Gleaming skyscrapers with holographic ads for A-Rank guilds—"Aetherius," "Celestial Dragon"—showcasing their heroic members in epic poses beside piles of rare loot. At ground level, however, the reality was dirtier. Shops sold low-quality potions, repaired dented armor, and the air was constantly thick with the metallic smell of Aether and the tension of those struggling to survive another day.
"Viridian!" The bored clerk at the Assignment Center—a man with a weak mustache and a grease-stained brown suit—read his name from a list on a datapad. "We have... hmm... a top-priority mission for someone of your... caliber."
The other F-Rank hunters in line—an old man with a cheap mechanical leg and a young man with frightened eyes—averted their gazes, embarrassed by proxy.
The clerk smirked, a gesture full of yellow teeth and bureaucratic sadism. "The City Sanitation Department reported an infestation ofSerrated-Tail Aether Rats level 0 in the Sector 7 substation. Extermination fee: 5 credits per tail. F-Class mission, appropriate. Here's the locator."
He slid a cheap-looking device across the counter. Kael picked it up, his fingers tightening on the plastic until it nearly cracked. Five credits. It was barely enough for a coffee. Level 0 rats were practically normal creatures, just slightly corrupted by ambient Aether. It was rock bottom. Even for an F.
"Any problem, Viridian?" the clerk asked, his voice dripping with false concern. "We know combat missions can be... daunting for someone with your record. Maybe the garbage collection guild is hiring?"
A muffled laugh ran through the line. Kael swallowed the pride he no longer even had a right to. He shook his head, took the locator, and left, his shoulders burning under the weight of a million invisible, judging stares.
The descent into the Sector 7 substation was like stepping into another reality. The city's golden artificial light gave way to flickering fluorescent bulbs. The air grew thick with the smell of mold, dampness, and something metallic—the telltale sign of a low-level dimensional leak seeping residual Aether. That's why the rats were here.
The locator beeped weakly, pointing toward a utility room filled with rusty pipes. And there they were: creatures the size of cats, with sparse, dirty fur, and tails that looked like tiny, blunt saws. They were gnawing on the insulation of a pipe, their red eyes glowing faintly in the gloom.
Kael drew his dagger. His hand was sweating. Even this was pathetic. He approached, his heart hammering in his chest. One of the rats looked up and hissed, baring sharp teeth. He took a swing. An awkward, telegraphed swing. The rat moved with surprising speed, and the blade only grazed its flank, making it shriek in anger.
He stumbled, his low Vigor already leaving him winded. This was his life. Being humiliated by even level-zero pests.
That's when he saw it. In the darkest corner of the room, behind a pile of debris, there was a glow. It wasn't the weak light of the bulbs, nor the red glow of the rats' eyes. It was an amber light, pulsing, almost like a heartbeat. And it felt... wrong. Out of place. Like a glitch in reality.
Ignoring the rats for a moment, he scrambled over the debris, pushing aside a rusted old toolbox. There it was. It was a fragment of... something. It looked like a shard of polished obsidian, but with veins of amber light running through its interior like liquid circuitry. It didn't look like any known Aether mineral. And it was warm to the touch.
The mission locator beeped furiously—a proximity danger warning. He turned and saw three rats advancing in unison, their red eyes full of murderous fury. In a blind panic, Kael grabbed the stone fragment—and everything happened at once.
One rat leaped. He instinctively raised the hand holding the fragment to shield himself. The creature bit down—not on his flesh, but on the strange artifact.
There was a sound that wasn't a sound—a high-frequency pitch that made his teeth ache and the pipes around him vibrate. The amber light from the fragment exploded, engulfing the rat, which vaporized instantly with a short, agonized squeal. The other two rats scattered, disappearing into the shadows.
But the light didn't stop. It coursed up Kael's arm like lightning, burning but not burning. It was an excruciating pain and an overwhelming ecstasy at once, as if every cell in his body was being disassembled and reassembled simultaneously.
He fell to his knees, unable to scream. His usual blue System interface flickered, distorted, and then shattered, replaced by a torrent of golden glyphs and geometric symbols he couldn't comprehend. The pain was unbearable, an agony that tore through his mind.
And then, a voice. Not an audible voice, but a presence, vast, infinite, and profoundly artificial, echoing inside his own skull.
[...] [Weak host signal... not detected...]
[Dimensional scanning...]
[Error. Error. Outside designated dimensional cluster bounds...]
[Location: Terra-Prime? Inconsistency...]
[User identification... Kael Viridian. Local Rank: F. Attributes: Below threshold...] [Analyzing eligibility parameters... Forced Humility: MAXIMUM. Ambition: NULL. Will to Survive: ACCEPTABLE.] [Parameters meet Omega System contingency protocols. Overriding standard safety protocols...] [Initializing...]
The pain ceased as suddenly as it had begun. Kael knelt on the cold floor, gasping, sweat pouring down his face. The obsidian shard was gone. Everything was silent, save for the distant drip of water.
And then, a new interface bloomed in his vision. It wasn't blue and translucent. It was golden, solid, made of light and fire, with perfectly defined edges and glyphs that seemed alive. In its center, three letters and a symbol shimmered with unquestionable authority:
SSS+
Beneath them, words formed, each one carrying a weight that stole the air from his lungs.
[Welcome, User Kael Viridian. The SSS+ World Creation System has been activated. You have been designated as Primary Administrator. What would you like to create today?]
Kael froze, his eyes wide, staring at the impossible interface. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, but the golden words remained, immutable, burning with an intensity that made the Global Hunter System a bad joke.
"What...?" his voice was a hoarse whisper, lost in the silent vastness of the basement.
A fluid, intuitive menu unfolded before him. The options were... absurd.
[Forge Divine Item] [Design Dungeon] [Instantiate Species] [Alter Local Reality Laws] [Create System Quest]
His heart, which had slowed, began to race again, but now it wasn't from fear. It was from something he hadn't felt in years. A spark of pure, uncontainable, and terrifying possibility.
He raised a trembling, dirty hand, his fingers hovering over the [Forge Divine Item] option. The interface responded instantly, displaying an infinite list of materials, enchantments, and powers he'd only heard of in S-Rank legends. Creation Cost: 10 System Essence Points.
His own Essence was 2. A laugh escaped his lips—a dry, broken, almost hysterical sound. He had no Essence. But the interface didn't seem to care. In the top right corner, a counter glowed softly: System Essence Points: 10,000.
Ten thousand.
He could... he could just choose.
With a hesitant thought, he selected the simplest option he could find. [Darksteel Dagger]. Basic damage, no enchantments. Something a C-Rank hunter might use. Cost: 1 System Essence Point.
[Confirm Creation?] [Yes] [No]
His mouth was dry. This was insanity. A delirium caused by sewer gas. He pushed his thought toward [Yes].
There was no sound. No flash of light. Simply, the air in front of him folded. Reality seemed to contract and then expand, and there, floating gently a few inches above the dirty floor, was a dagger.
It was beautiful. Made of a dull black metal that seemed to absorb the weak light around it, with an edge that looked like it could cut the air itself. It was the complete antithesis of his blunt, rusted iron dagger.
He reached out, his fingers closing around the leather-wrapped hilt. It was perfectly balanced. Perfectly sharp. Perfect.
And then, a new alert appeared on the golden interface, accompanied by a symbol of a half-open cosmic eye.
[Warning, Primary Administrator. Utilization of System Essence in a Low-Aether Zone may attract the attention of Observing Entities (Constellations). Initial discretion is recommended.]
Kael looked at the dagger in his hand. He looked at the golden interface. He looked at the dark, dirty basement where he, Kael, the Incapable, the F-Rank, was kneeling.
For the first time in a decade, the corners of his mouth curled upward. It wasn't a smile of joy. It was a smile of recognition. Of understanding.
The world still smelled of mold and garbage. The rats were still out there, gnawing. The landlady was still waiting for the rent. The Global Hunter System still considered him trash.
But none of that mattered anymore.
He stood up, the new dagger feeling like a natural extension of his arm. He was no longer just Kael.
He was an Administrator.
And the world, unknowingly, had just become his playground.