I adjusted the straps of my sword on my back and stepped out into the crisp morning air. The streets of the northern city buzzed with excitement — hunters, merchants, and curious civilians milling about as new dungeons continued to appear across Kael'Ar. My mind, as always, was already calculating, analyzing, predicting.
I am Kaelen Veystrum, fifteen years old, though my demeanor often makes me seem older than I am. White hair streaked with blue at the front, sky-blue eyes sharp with curiosity and intelligence, and a lean but muscular build honed through years of discipline. My parents had always recognized my potential, though they did not fully understand it. My father, Tavren Veystrum, specialized in Gravity circuits — capable of manipulating weight and force with deadly precision. My mother, Selene Veystrum, mastered Chrono circuits — subtly bending time around herself to anticipate movements and attacks. I inherited both in full, a rare combination that had already begun to manifest in ways even they could not yet comprehend.
Today, I was signing up as an adventurer. Not just any adventurer — I was determined to rise to the top, to understand the Era of Dungeons from its very foundation. The Adventurer Registration Hall was bustling. Screens projected live feeds of nearby dungeon entrances and ongoing adventures. Notices about the recent influx of mutated dungeons flickered on every display.
I approached the registration desk, where a stern-looking officer eyed me.
"Name?" he asked.
"Kaelen Veystrum," I replied evenly.
"Age?"
"Fifteen."
"Circuits?" He raised an eyebrow, probably expecting a simple answer.
I gave him the truth, briefly explaining the dual nature of my circuits. The mention of both Gravity and Chrono circuits caused a ripple of murmurs in the background — rare, prodigious, dangerous.
"Very well," he said, stamping a mark on the registration form. "You will undergo the Adventurer Test. All applicants must face monsters from each level of dungeon difficulty to determine rank. Fail, and your registration is revoked. Understand?"
"I understand," I said. I wasn't nervous — I never was. This was merely data to process.
The test area was a massive enclosed zone designed for assessments. The first gate opened to reveal Common Boss rank creatures — goblins, wolves, and low-level monsters, weak but numerous. I drew my sword, a simple steel blade, nothing fancy, yet perfectly balanced in my hands.
I moved with precision, slicing through goblins with clean arcs, predicting their movements before they acted. Gravity circuits subtly increased my strike force, adding weight that shattered shields and bones alike. Time around me felt slightly dilated, thanks to Chrono circuits, allowing me to perceive attacks before they landed. Within moments, the Common Bosses were all defeated.
Next was Easy rank — high goblins, small orc warbands, and salamanders. They tested endurance and strategy rather than raw strength. I fought with fluidity, observing patterns, exploiting weaknesses, and ensuring no unnecessary energy was wasted. By the time I emerged victorious, the evaluators looked impressed.
Normal rank brought lizard men and barbarian raiders. Their attacks were coordinated, requiring both anticipation and adaptation. My circuits allowed me to manipulate space and time subtly, dodging and countering with perfect timing. I noticed that the evaluators were whispering — it was rare to see a test subject move with such precision.
Medium rank introduced dragons and dark elves. Their attacks were faster, smarter, and more dangerous. I adjusted my movement, letting gravity circuits amplify my sword strikes and Chrono circuits slow the perception of their attacks just enough to slip past their defenses. Each swing of my blade felt calculated to the millimeter, a perfect combination of efficiency and raw power.
Hard rank monsters — wyverns and elite dark elf battlemages — pressed me, but I moved with the calm of one analyzing a puzzle. Every strike, parry, and step was deliberate. My circuits responded instinctively, refining each action.
Finally, Catastrophic and Cataclysmic rank monsters appeared — massive demons, multi-headed beasts, and highly evolved dungeon lords. Most adventurers would freeze, panic, or die instantly. I didn't. Time slowed. Gravity intensified my strikes. I didn't simply fight — I dominated the space around me. Every monster fell in perfect sequence, their patterns memorized, their strengths nullified by anticipation and precision.
The evaluators finally stepped back, visibly shaken. The Abysmal rank test was unnecessary. The system already flagged me as beyond evaluation.
"Remarkable," the lead evaluator said, voice trembling slightly. "I… I've never seen anyone… ever… handle the test like that."
I sheathed my sword, nodding calmly. "Then there is no need to continue."
As I left the testing grounds, the other applicants stared. Some with envy, some with awe, and some with fear. None knew my full potential — they wouldn't, and they never would. The Era of Dungeons was just beginning, and I had already stepped onto the first rung of its ladder.
Outside, the wind carried the scents of the city — fresh bread, market herbs, and the faint metallic tang of monster cores being processed nearby. I smiled faintly.
The world is waking up. The dungeons are spreading. And the Hero — though not yet aware of his full destiny — will begin his journey now.
I adjusted my grip on the sword on my back and walked away from the testing grounds. Kael'Ar was alive, vibrant, dangerous, and promising. And I intended to witness, and guide, it all.