The moment the word "Yes" left Jack's bruised and trembling lips, the translucent blue screen shattered into thousands of glowing, crystalline fragments. Time, which had felt frozen, suddenly violently resumed, but not in the way Jack expected.
The fragments of the screen swirled into a localized vortex within the narrow, dead-end alleyway. The air grew impossibly heavy, smelling of ozone and ancient, rusted iron. The light from the setting sun was entirely swallowed by an encroaching, unnatural darkness that seemed to bleed from the very cobblestones beneath him.
[Initiating Universal Bloodline Roulette...]
[Scanning Host's physical parameters...]
[Extreme physical foundation detected. High pain tolerance verified. Soul resilience: Abnormal.]
[Filtering out low-tier, mid-tier, and high-tier mortal bloodlines...]
[Filtering out Saint-tier and Divine-tier bloodlines...]
[Accessing the Primordial Void...]
Jack could only watch, paralyzed, as the vortex spun faster, creating a miniature hurricane of dark energy. The sheer pressure radiating from the anomaly forced him flat against the cold, wet ground. His ribs groaned, and the breath was driven from his lungs. In the world of Aethelgard, a standard awakening was a gentle, spiritual process where the dormant mana within a person's blood was coaxed to the surface by the Awakening Stone. It was warm. It was enlightening.
This was neither. This felt like standing at the epicenter of a dying star.
[Ding!]
[Bloodline Selected: The Apex Devourer (Origin State)]
[Rank: Unquantifiable (Grows with Host)]
[Warning: The integration process is highly lethal. A mortal body has a 99.9% chance of total cellular disintegration. Relying on Host's 10 years of physical tempering to endure. Commencing integration.]
"Wait, what—" Jack's words were cut off by an agony so profound, so absolute, that it defied human comprehension.
A beam of pure, abyssal black energy shot from the center of the vortex directly into Jack's chest. It didn't just pierce his skin; it bypassed his flesh and slammed directly into his soul, before radiating outward into his cardiovascular system.
Jack's back arched violently, snapping off the cobblestone. His mouth opened in a silent, endless scream. The veins in his neck and arms bulged, turning completely black beneath his pale skin. He could feel it—every single drop of his mortal blood was boiling, evaporating within his veins, only to be instantly replaced by a thick, heavy, magma-like substance that pulsed with a terrifying, ancient vitality.
Crack. Snap.
The sound of his own bones fracturing echoed in the alley. The Apex Devourer bloodline was too dense, too violently powerful for his mortal skeleton to house. His femurs, his ribs, his spine—they shattered under the pressure. But before his body could collapse into a pile of mangled flesh, the dark energy surged, violently forcing the bone fragments back together, knitting them with threads of pitch-black mana. They broke, and they healed. They broke again, and they healed stronger, denser, heavier.
This cycle of destruction and rebirth was the essence of the dark, brutal path he had just walked onto. For ten years, Jack had swung a wooden sword until his hands were raw meat. He had carried boulders up the nearby mountains while the noble children drank fine wine. He had conditioned his mind to accept pain as a harsh but necessary teacher.
If it had been Elara Vance, or any of the pampered prodigies in the academy, their minds would have shattered within the first three seconds, and their bodies would have exploded into a fine mist of blood.
But Jack held on. He bit down on his own tongue to keep from swallowing it, his eyes rolling back in his head. The memories of the mocking laughter in the courtyard, the disdainful sneer of the Elder, the ten years of eating scraps from the academy kitchens—he channeled all of that hatred, all of that burning desire to prove them wrong, into a singular, unbreakable will to survive.
I will not die here, he roared in his mind. I will not die a null!
The agonizing process felt like centuries, though in reality, only ten minutes had passed. Finally, the roaring vortex dissipated. The suffocating pressure lifted, and Jack collapsed face-first onto the ruined cobblestones.
He lay there, gasping, his chest heaving as cool evening air rushed into his revitalized lungs. Every breath felt different. The air tasted sharper, the ambient mana of the world—which he had never been able to sense before—now brushed against his skin like a tangible, tingling mist.
Slowly, Jack pushed himself up.
He froze. When his hands pressed against the stone to lift his body, his fingers dug directly into the solid rock as if it were wet clay. He pulled his hands back, staring at the deep gouges he had effortlessly left in the hard cobblestone.
His body felt incredibly light, yet simultaneously overflowing with an explosive, terrifying strength. The chronic aches in his joints from years of overtraining were entirely gone. His skin, once scarred and rough, was now smooth, tough as cured leather, and possessed a faint, healthy luster. He looked down at his clothes; they were drenched in a foul-smelling black sludge—the impurities forcibly expelled from his mortal body.
Before he could fully process the physical changes, the mechanical, god-like voice echoed in his mind once more.
[Integration Complete. Host has survived.]
[Congratulations. Host has bypassed the 0 Rank (Mortal) limit.]
[Host has reached Rank 1: Novice Awakener (Low Stage).]
[System Update Initiated...]
[System Level 1 -> Level 2.]
[New System Function Unlocked: Status Interface & Analytical Eye.]
Jack blinked, and the familiar blue holographic screen appeared before his eyes. This time, it was far more detailed.
=========================================
HOST STATUS
=========================================
Name: Jack
Rank: 1 (Novice Awakener)
Sub-Rank: Low Stage
Bloodline: The Apex Devourer (Origin State)
[Attributes]
(Note: An average Rank 1 Low Stage Awakener has an average of 10 points in each stat.)
* Strength: 25 (The raw physical force the Host can exert.)
* Agility: 22 (Speed, reflexes, and neural response time.)
* Vitality: 35 (Endurance, regeneration, and stamina capacity.)
* Mana/Void Energy: 15 (The Apex Devourer processes ambient mana into denser Void Energy.)
[Bloodline Abilities - Unlocked at Rank 1]
* Passive: [Unyielding Physique] - Your body is structurally twice as dense as a normal human. Minor wounds heal at an accelerated rate. Resistance to low-level poisons and curses is increased by 50%.
* Active: [Devour (Basic)] - The core ability of the Apex Devourer. Host can consume the mana cores of beasts, raw natural treasures, and the residual bloodline energy of recently slain enemies to permanently increase stats and evolve the Bloodline. (Note: Efficiency is currently at 10%. Will increase with Rank.)
=========================================
Jack stared at the numbers. He was Rank 1. He had finally stepped into the realm of the Awakened. But more than that, his stats were monstrous. Even the vaunted Elara Vance, who had awakened at the High Stage of Rank 1, likely didn't have a Vitality stat of 35 or a Strength stat of 25. His ten years of grueling physical labor hadn't been wasted; they had formed an unbreakable foundation that the Apex Devourer bloodline had magnified exponentially.
And then there was the active ability: [Devour].
A chill ran down Jack's spine, followed by a rush of adrenaline. In Aethelgard, one's bloodline dictated their absolute limit. If you awakened a goblin bloodline, you would likely never surpass Rank 3. If you awakened a dragon bloodline, the heavens were your limit. You could only cultivate what you were born with.
But his system... his bloodline... it allowed him to steal. He could kill beasts, or even enemies, and absorb their essence to grow stronger indefinitely. It was a dark, terrifying, and utterly broken power. It was a power that would make him the enemy of the entire world if the noble houses ever found out. They hoarded resources; they would never tolerate a commoner who could grow infinitely just by killing.
"Good," Jack whispered, his voice deeper, resonating with a faint, unnatural echo. "Let them come."
He dismissed the screen with a thought. He needed to get out of the academy district. If the guards caught him covered in foul-smelling sludge in a restricted alley, they would flog him.
Moving with a newfound grace and speed that frankly startled him, Jack scaled the ten-foot brick wall at the end of the alley in a single, fluid leap. He landed softly on the other side, dropping into the outer ring of the city—the Slums of Oakhaven.
The contrast between the Academy and the Slums was staggering. Where the Academy had pristine marble, floating glowing crystals, and the scent of incense, the Slums were a labyrinth of rotting wood, rusted tin roofs, and streets that ran thick with mud and raw sewage. This was Jack's real home. This was the living, breathing underbelly of the empire, where life was cheap and a loaf of bread could cost a man his throat.
The rain began to fall, a slow, cold drizzle that started to wash the black impurities from Jack's skin. He pulled the hood of his tattered tunic over his head, navigating the twisting, familiar streets. He needed to reach his shack, clean up properly, and test his limits.
However, the world of Aethelgard rarely allowed for peaceful moments.
As Jack turned a corner into a particularly narrow, shadowed street known as Beggar's Choke, three figures stepped out from the darkness, blocking his path.
"Well, well, well. Look what the rats dragged in," a raspy, mocking voice echoed.
Jack stopped. Standing ten paces away was Garret, a notorious enforcer for the local slum gang, the Iron Fangs. Garret was a massive, scarred brute who had awakened a low-tier Boar bloodline five years ago. He was perpetually stuck at Rank 1, Mid Stage, but in the slums, that made him a tyrant. Flanking him were two lackeys, unawakened mortals armed with rusted machetes.
"I heard the news, Jack-boy," Garret sneered, spitting a wad of chewing tobacco into the mud. "Word travels fast from the Academy kitchens. The great try-hard, the boy who swung a stick for ten years... awakened as a Rank 0 Null. Absolutely nothing."
The two lackeys chuckled darkly, tapping their blades against their thighs.
"You owe the Iron Fangs for protection this month, null," Garret continued, pulling a heavy, spiked iron club from his back. "Since your dreams of being a fancy noble knight are dead, you're going to have to pay up. I hear the flesh peddlers in the Red District pay well for young, fit boys. We're taking you in."
Jack didn't move. In the past, he would have had to rely on his wits, his speed, and his knowledge of the alleys to escape Garret. A mortal could never fight an Awakener, even a weak one. A single strike from Garret's club, reinforced by his Boar bloodline mana, would shatter a mortal's ribcage.
But as Jack looked at Garret now, something strange happened.
The [Analytical Eye], the new function of his Level 2 System, passively activated.
[Target: Garret]
[Rank: 1 (Mid Stage)]
[Bloodline: Mud Boar (Low-Tier)]
[Threat Level: Negligible. Pathetic.]
[Notice: Target contains low-quality bloodline essence. Suitable for basic [Devour] practice.]
Jack slowly lowered his hood. The rain washed the last of the black sludge from his face, revealing eyes that had changed. They were no longer the desperate, hopeful eyes of a struggling orphan. They were cold, abyss-black, and predatory.
"Protection?" Jack asked, his voice calm, cutting through the sound of the rain. "I think the only one here who needs protection... is you."
Garret's face contorted in rage. "You arrogant little piece of trash! Break his legs!" he barked at his lackeys.
The two men charged forward, raising their rusted machetes.
Jack didn't retreat. He didn't even adopt a fighting stance. He just breathed in, feeling the heavy, dense power of the Apex Devourer coursing through his newly forged veins. The slow burn of his past life was over. The brutal, bloody climb to the top had just begun.