The man took his time, lightly tapping a small pen against the checklist resting on his lap. The sound was faint but repetitive, deliberately slow, as though he were in no rush at all. After a few seconds, his eyes finally shifted toward Steven.
"I'm in charge of briefing you about the Cursed Mark and your obligations to the constitution."
Now that he lowered the checklist from his face, Steven was able to properly observe the man's features. He was blond, his hair neatly cut but beginning to gray at the roots. A deep frown was permanently etched into his countenance, making the brutal scars lining his face appear even more pronounced. One jagged mark ran from the edge of his jaw to his cheekbone, while another traced dangerously close to one eye.
Whoever this man was, he had surely been through a lot.
The man cleared his throat, his eyes trailing back to the first item written on his list. After a brief pause, he spoke again, his tone flat and professional.
"Name and occupation."
"Steven. I don't have a surname, and I don't have an occupation. I just go with anything that comes my way," Steven answered honestly, not seeing any reason to dress the truth up.
The man's expression shifted slightly, something akin to pity flashing across his face before he sighed and muttered under his breath, "Expected nothing less from the poor, I guess."
Steven heard it clearly. The man made no attempt to hide his words.
It infuriated him—but he was used to insults like that. Being an orphan with no inheritance, no connections, and no future handed to him, this kind of treatment had long become an expectation rather than a surprise.
"So, Steven," the man continued, his eyes scanning the checklist, "it says here you're on my tab. You're an orphan and currently seventeen years old."
Steven pressed his lips together. 'Just two weeks remaining, but who really cares anyway?'
"Do you have any knowledge about the Mark?" the man asked further.
Steven nodded and replied without hesitation, "Just as much as the poor can have." He made sure to stress the last part, his voice laced with faint sarcasm, as though deliberately provoking the man.
Still, the man did not react. He didn't rise to Steven's bait in the slightest. This was his job, after all, and he clearly had enough experience to recognize when someone was trying to provoke him into making a mistake.
"I see."
For a moment, the man dropped the checklist onto his lap alongside the pen. Then he turned his full attention back to the frail-looking boy before him.
"The plague that struck Earth decades ago was a mysterious occurrence—one no one truly understood. Some said it was the work of aliens, others claimed it was a natural disaster beyond comprehension. But within the Society of the Awakened, we believe the plague came from the gods."
He paused briefly, allowing the weight of his words to sink in.
"And we call it Ragnarok."
Steven's eyes widened as he repeated the word aloud, curiosity and disbelief mixing together. "Ragnarok?"
The man nodded slowly. "While we aren't certain whether it was a punishment from the gods meant to destroy all of humanity, everything we have is still theory."
He straightened slightly before continuing.
"Now, about the Marked… To obtain the cursed Mark, you must either be infected by a Shadow Eater—which is extremely rare—or be chosen directly by the Mark itself, which is far more common. Once chosen, the Mark begins forming along your forearm."
As he spoke, the man raised his arm and rolled down his sleeve. Two fully formed sigil markings glowed faintly against his skin.
Steven's eyes widened further.
That meant he was a fully awakened Marked.
"At first," the man continued, lowering his sleeve again, "the Mark begins as nothing more than a thin line. But once it fully completes, it forcefully pulls your soul into the Fallen World of Gods. That's where you encounter your first trial. If you perform well enough, you're allowed to return—with a system and power beyond what a normal human could ever dream of possessing."
Steven nodded as the man paused to take a short break.
'This is certainly more information than they ever tell the common folk,' he thought as he raised his own forearm. The sigil etched into his skin was nearly complete, its lines sharp and unmistakable.
A Mark took seven days to fully develop, And this was his seventh, certainly He didn't have much time left.
Judging by the man's expression, he knew it too.
After a brief moment of contemplation, Steven spoke again. "So… how do I complete a trial?"
The man remained silent for a while, as if carefully weighing what he was permitted to say and what he wasn't. His fingers tapped the pen once against the metal armrest before he finally answered.
"Upon entering the realm, you will be placed into a point in its history. From there, you must do whatever it takes to attract a sponsor. Once you succeed, you will be automatically brought back."
He paused.
"It's that simple."
Steven didn't buy the 'it's that simple' act. If it truly were, he wouldn't be standing inside a specialized containment cage at this very moment.
"Who are these sponsors?" Steven asked, deciding this was the most pressing question.
"The gods of the realm—"
"But they were the ones that cursed Earth in the first place," Steven rudely cut in before the man could finish.
The man froze for a brief moment, his mouth hanging open as though he had lost his words entirely. Then he sighed, choosing to ignore the disrespect.
"None of us are certain of that information just yet, Steeve," he said calmly. "But they are the ones who grant us the power needed to keep the human race alive and capable of fighting the Eaters. There is still much we don't understand about the Marks or the deities themselves—but whether we like it or not, we need them far more than they need us."
Steven nodded slowly, absorbing the information.
'Attract a sponsor and get awakened.'
That sounded simple enough—at least on the surface.
A soft chime suddenly rang from the man's wristwatch, drawing both their attention. The man glanced down at the device, and his eyes widened in realization.
Steven, on the other hand, felt something far more troubling.
The moment the chime sounded, a wave of drowsiness washed over him. His knees buckled slightly, his vision blurring as though he had been injected with a powerful sedative out of nowhere.
The man shook his head and sighed. "It's already time for you to go, kid. I wish you had arrived earlier, I could've briefed you on a few more things. But all I can do now is wish you good luck… and advise that you do not fail."
Steven tried to lift his head and nod, but even that simple movement felt impossibly heavy. His knees gave out entirely, and he collapsed onto his side with a dull thud.
His consciousness rapidly slipped away.
'It's like… I'm losing myself to an endless void,' Steven thought as his vision faded completely, his soul drifting somewhere far beyond the room.
{Ding}
{Soul integrating}
//Author's note//
Thanks for join us on this journey, please your power stones and reviews will be very much needed. Please support.