The transition from the icy, crushing grip of death to the sharp, ozone-scented air of a classroom was a spiritual whiplash that left my soul vibrating. I sat frozen, my fingers gripping the edges of the scarred wooden desk until my knuckles turned white and the splinters bit into my skin. The world was too loud, too bright, and far too solid for a man who had just felt his bones turn into powder beneath the wheels of a truck.
I stared out the window, past the reflection of a boy who looked like me—gaunt, tired, yet undeniably youthful—and into a sky that was a jagged mockery of the one I remembered. High above the skyline of Jianghai City, the atmosphere wasn't a pure, innocent blue. It was fractured. A massive, swirling vortex of violet and obsidian energy hung there like a festering wound in the fabric of reality.
[The First Descent.]
The memory dump hit me with the force of a physical blow. A century ago, the "Outer Gods" had peered through the thin veil of our dimension. They didn't come with proclamations or treaties; they came with an insatiable hunger. Millions of portals, similar to the one hovering outside, had torn open across the globe, vomiting forth nightmares that defied biological logic. Humanity, with its lead bullets and chemical fire, had been nothing more than cattle to the slaughter. We were a species destined to be a footnote in a cosmic feast.
Then, she intervened. Goddess Nu Wa. Through her divine blessing, the "Nature of All" was integrated into the human soul. It was a system, a divine blueprint that allowed us to fight back. We didn't just survive; we evolved. We awakened.
'But some things never change,' I thought, my eyes narrowing as I scanned the room. In my previous world, the divide was between the rich and the poor, the "haves" and the "have-nots." In this world, the chasm was between the Awakened and the Commoners.
I was still at the bottom, an orphan with no backing, no resources, and a future that depended entirely on the whims of a machine in three days' time.
The classroom door groaned open, snapping the tension in the room like a dry twig. A man stepped in, his footsteps heavy and deliberate. This was Mr. Zhang, our homeroom teacher.
He wasn't a tall man, but he carried an aura of suppressed violence—the hallmark of someone who had survived the front lines of a Dungeon. A jagged scar ran from his temple to his jaw, a permanent memento of an encounter with a Void Crawler.
He slammed a heavy ledger onto the podium, the sound echoing like a gunshot.
"Quiet down, you lot," Mr. Zhang barked, his voice like grinding gravel. The whispers of the students, mostly about which luxury cars their parents would buy them if they awakened an A-Rank class, died instantly. "In three days, your lives will either begin or effectively end. The Awakening Ceremony is the only day that matters in your miserable eighteen years of existence. It is the day you transition from being a burden on society to becoming a pillar of humanity... or a permanent footnote in the casualty reports."
He turned to the chalkboard, his movements stiff. He began to draw a vertical line, dividing it into sections with aggressive strokes of chalk.
"Let's refresh the basics before you go out there and embarrass this school," he said, pointing to the top of the line. "The Nature of All categorizes every Awakened being into Ranks. These Ranks are the absolute law of your potential. They determine how much Aether your body can circulate and how high your ceiling is."
The Hierarchy of Potential.
"The Ranks are divided from F to SSS," Mr. Zhang explained, his chalk screeching against the board.
* F to D Rank (The Common Tiers): Over 70% of the population falls here. You'll be the infantry, the city guards, the laborers. You have power, but it is limited. You will likely never see the inside of an S-Rank portal and live to tell the tale.
* C to B Rank (The Elite Tiers): This is where life starts to get comfortable. B-Ranks are the backbone of our military and the top earners in private guilds. They are the 'success stories.'
* A Rank (The Master Tier): If you awaken as an A-Rank, you are a strategic asset. You are no longer just a person; you are a treasure of the state. Your family—if you have one—is set for generations.
* S to SSS Rank (The Divine Tiers): There are fewer than a handful of SSS-Rankers in the entire world. They are the ones who keep the Outer Gods at bay. They are the closest things we have to living gods.
"But remember," Mr. Zhang's eyes turned cold as they swept over the students, lingering for a fraction of a second on me—the orphan in the back with the frayed collar. "Rank is only half the battle. Your Class determines your function, and your function determines your worth."
The Three Pillars of Profession
He began to write three words in large, aggressive script: COMBAT, SUPPORT, and MISCELLANEOUS.
"Combat Classes are the ones you see on the recruitment posters," he spat, though there was a hint of pride in his voice. "Warriors, Mages, Assassins, Archers. If you awaken a Combat Class, you are the blade of humanity. You go into the portals, you kill the monsters, and you bring back the Aether stones. It is the most dangerous path, but also the swiftest route to wealth and glory. Every second-generation brat in this room is praying for a 'Sword Saint' or 'Elementalist' awakening."
A few students in the front row smirked, adjusting their expensive watches. They had been fed high-grade nutrition and aether-enriched meals since birth to "prime" their veins. I, meanwhile, had been eating discounted convenience store rice balls.
He moved to the next word. "Support Classes. Healers, Buffers, Shield-bearers, and Observers. Never underestimate a Support. An S-Rank Warrior without a decent Healer is just a very strong corpse waiting to happen. Observers are particularly vital; they provide the battlefield intelligence, find the weaknesses of the Outer Gods' spawn, and guide the Combatants through the fog of war. You won't be the one landing the killing blow, but you will be the reason the team survives to see the sun."
I leaned back, my mind racing. Support class. In this world, a Support class meant you were always dependent on a team. You were the "brain" or the "lungs," but never the "hand." For someone like me—someone who had just been betrayed by the person he trusted most—the idea of needing to rely on others felt like a collar around my neck.
Finally, he tapped the last word.
"Miscellaneous Classes. This is the catch-all. Blacksmiths, Alchemists, Chefs, Farmers. These are non-combat, non-support roles that maintain the infrastructure of the Awakened world. If you awaken as an F-Rank Chef, you aren't fighting monsters. You're peeling potatoes for the ones who do."
'I won't be a spectator again,' I vowed internally, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. 'I won't be the one peeling potatoes while the world burns.'
But the reality was cold and suffocating. In my previous life, I had been a "Miscellaneous" human—a laborer, a servant, a stepping stone. I had worked eighteen hours a day to fund Ye Shenyue's dreams, only for her to mock my poverty and step over my broken body. I had no reason to believe this world would be any kinder. I didn't know my Rank. I didn't know my Class. For all I knew, the Awakening machine would hum, click, and label me "F-Rank Farmer."
The thought sent a visceral chill through my marrow.
"Ning Feng!" Mr. Zhang's voice cracked like a whip, pulling me from the dark spiral of my thoughts. "Since you find my lecture so captivating that you've been staring at the wall for ten minutes, why don't you tell the class: if an Awakened possesses an A-Rank potential but awakens a Miscellaneous class like 'Tailor,' what is their societal standing?"
I stood up slowly. The movements felt strange—my body was lighter, more agile than the exhausted husk I had occupied just hours ago. The eyes of my classmates turned toward me. I saw the mocking grins of the rich kids, the ones who knew I was an orphan from the fringes of the city.
"They would be a 'High-Grade Resource,' sir," I said, my voice steady, carrying a rasping edge that seemed to startle the room. "But they would never be a leader. They would be owned by a Guild or the State. A golden bird in a cage is still a bird that can't fly."
The classroom went silent. Mr. Zhang blinked, his scarred face twitching. He didn't expect such a cynical, razor-sharp answer from the boy who usually kept his head down and his mouth shut.
"Hmph. A bit dramatic, but correct," Mr. Zhang grumbled, gesturing for me to sit. "Power without a combat or support application is just a commodity. Remember that, all of you. Your Rank tells us how much gas is in the tank, but your Class tells us if you're a fighter jet or a lawnmower."
I sat back down, my gaze returning to the portal in the sky. I felt a strange, phantom heat beneath my skin—not a system notification, not a message from a goddess, but a raw, unformed potential that felt like a coiled serpent waiting to strike. I didn't know what I was. I didn't know if I would even awaken at all.
But as I touched the surface of the desk, tracing the deep grooves in the wood, a cold fury began to replace the fear.
Ye Shenyue had called me a dead end. She had called me a nobody. In that rainy street, she had looked at me as if I were a piece of trash to be discarded.
'Three days,' I whispered to myself, the words lost in the drone of the air conditioner.
In three days, the "Nature of All" would judge me. In three days, I would find out if I was meant to be the blade, the shield, or the dirt beneath their boots.