The air outside the apartment was colder than the silence within. Griffin walked with his hands buried deep in the pockets of his worn hoodie, his boots crunching over the blackened gravel of the Sector 7 slums.
Each breath felt like inhaling fine grit, a persistent reminder of the "Gehenna Dust" that had settled over the planet a century earlier. He lacked a specific destination; he simply could not remain in that cramped room any longer, listening to the muffled sobs of a mother who had risked everything for a son deemed a "Zero."
As he crossed the bridge separating the outskirts from the inner industrial district, his surroundings began to transform. The flickering bulbs of tenements gave way to the blinding neon glow of the central district.
Massive holographic billboards hovered between skyscrapers, casting shimmering hues of violet and gold onto the streets below. These were not merely advertisements; they represented digital altars in a world that revered power above all else.
High above traffic, a three-story projection of a woman clad in silver-plated armor flickered into view. She was "Sovereign Lyra," one of the few S-Rank Walkers tasked with protecting the Asian-African coalition.
The image depicted her standing atop a slain Grade 7 Disaster-rank beast, her spear radiating light reminiscent of trapped stars. Beneath her likeness, a scrolling news ticker updated viewers on the global "Gate Stability Index," warning citizens that three Grade 4 Gates were approaching their Resonance Phase in the Mediterranean sector.
Griffin halted and gazed up at this holographic figure. To an ordinary person, Lyra embodied salvation, a symbol of humanity's endurance.
However, for Griffin, she served as an unsettling reminder of the Great Collision of 2026, the year when life as his ancestors knew it came to an abrupt end. It was when the Gehenna Dimension did not merely open a door but collided violently with Earth, merging their realities with one filled with nightmares.
History books recounted these events across various educational institutions, though narratives shifted depending on which Guild funded them.
In 2026, during what became known as the first "Dimensional Impact," an immense shockwave of mana erupted in the Pacific Ocean, so powerful it altered tectonic plates and obliterated global digital infrastructure within moments.
This event was not characterized by invasions or military actions; rather, it represented an existential collision between realms. The Gehenna Dimension, a chaotic realm teeming with predatory evolution, had drifted through cosmic void until it latched onto Earth's reality.
Within months, Dimensional Gates began tearing open across every continent, not mere portals but wounds in our sky from which emerged "Gehenna Beasts" monsters composed of flesh and mana that regarded humans solely as low-calorie sustenance.
Billions perished during those initial years, not due to humanity's weakness but because conventional weapons failed against Mana Shrouds shielding these Gehenna beasts.
As Griffin ventured deeper into the district, he passed high-end boutiques offering high end clothes and mana infused garments.
His attention was drawn to the Heritage Wall, a monumental tribute to the First Walkers, humans who, on the brink of extinction, underwent a significant biological transformation.
These individuals were the first to "Awaken" to a Class, developing a Mana Core that enabled them to harness the chaotic energy emanating from the Gates. They became known as Dimensional Walkers, uniquely capable of entering these Gates to stabilize them from within.
Without their intervention, every Gate would eventually reach its threshold, triggering a Dimensional Impact that could irrevocably transform sections of Earth into desolate landscapes characterized by obsidian trees and toxic air.
Griffin caught his reflection in the polished black stone of the monument. He identified himself as an "Impact Orphan," a descendant of those who had lost everything due to the Gehenna bleed; yet he remained a Walker who could not walk, a defender without a weapon.
The disparity between someone like Sovereign Lyra and Griffin transcended mere financial differences; it was fundamentally about species. In the eyes of the G.R.A., an S-Rank Walker represented an apex being, their DNA regarded as more valuable than entire cities. Conversely, someone like Griffin, with zero Mana Capacity, was deemed biological waste.
He observed a group of affluent academy students pass by him, their high-tech uniforms illuminated with faint blue lines indicative of mana conduction.
They laughed about an upcoming party celebrating their C-Grade and B-Grade awakenings, oblivious to Griffin's presence as they brushed past him forcefully enough to send him stumbling toward the gutter. Their lack of awareness was not born out of malice; rather, in their world where mana signatures dictated visibility, he had become invisible, merely part of the backdrop akin to a fire hydrant or discarded refuse.
Griffin soon found himself in a small plaza dominated by a live broadcast screen featuring an anchor with impeccably styled hair interviewing a representative from the G.R.A. Licensing Bureau regarding the escalating frequency of Dimensional Impacts in the southern hemisphere.
"Is it true," asked the anchor with feigned concern, "that aggression from the Gehenna Dimension is increasing? Some scholars suggest our world's 'Satiety' is diminishing while monsters seek more 'Essence' from our reality."
The representative nodded solemnly while adjusting his glasses. "The pressure is indeed mounting," he affirmed.
"That is why G.R.A. prioritizes high-grade talent above all else; we cannot afford to expend resources on F-rank fodder. Every resource, every mana-stone and gram of nutrient-paste, must be allocated towards those with S-grade potential. The weak must recognize that their survival hinges entirely on Sovereigns' strength; without them, our next Impact may be our last."
The crowd in the plaza erupted in cheers at the representative's words, a collective roar from desperate people who found comfort in being told they were worthless as long as someone was there to protect them.
Griffin felt a surge of cold fury deep in his gut, a fire that had been smoldering since he touched that obsidian stone at the ceremony.
They spoke of "Essence" and "Satiety" like it was some mathematical equation, completely ignoring the millions of "fodder," like his mother, who toiled until their lungs failed just to keep the Sovereigns fed.
He glanced back at the screen, watching a montage of A-Rank Walkers effortlessly clearing a Grade 6 Gate. They moved like lightning, their God Arts slicing through hordes of Soldier-grade monsters with a mere wave of their hands.
The world called this arrangement a partnership, but Griffin knew better; it was nothing more than a cage. Humanity was merely a herd, the Walkers were the shepherds, and the Gehenna Dimension loomed like a wolf at the door.
Turning away from the crowd, he made his way toward the darker, quieter streets leading back to the Hive.
As he passed an old bookstore transformed into a Remnant Scrap Shop, he caught sight of broken essence crystals piled in the window, discarded drops from Grade 1 gates repurposed to power streetlights and cheap heaters.
Even this trash held more value than his own life. He pondered his "Dimensional Hunter" class name; if it were legitimate, why did G.R.A. have no record of it? Why did that stone show zero mana? If he truly was a hunter, where was his prey? It felt like a cruel joke played by fate, a man given an impressive title yet denied any means to fulfill it.
The echoes of 2026 weren't confined to history books; they lingered in every breath he took, a century marked by failure and fear that had culminated in his own sense of worthlessness.
As he reached the edge of the industrial district, flickering neon lights gave way to heavy shadows cast by tenements. Here, there were no glowing faces of Sovereigns on billboards; instead, all that filled the air was the rhythmic thumping of machinery and distant howls from Gehenna beasts trapped in nearby research facilities.
Griffin paused at an alleyway corner and looked up at the smog-choked sky. Did his father ever feel this way—like an insignificant insect gazing up at an insurmountable mountain?
His father had been an S-rank Walker, a man who belonged to light, but even he had been swallowed by a Grade 12 Gate. If even heroes could vanish without trace, what chance did someone labeled as "Zero" have in a world slowly being devoured by another dimension?
Griffin's hand slipped into the pocket of his hoodie, fingers grazing a small metallic object he had carried all day, a rusted commemorative coin from the 2026 Memorial.
It was essentially worthless, but it was the only thing he owned that wasn't a hand-me-down. He clutched it tightly, its sharp edges pressing into his palm. A strange, rhythmic thrum echoed in his mind, a sound that seemed to originate from somewhere deep within him rather than from the bustling city around him. It felt like a heavy heartbeat, pulsing in sync with his own blood.
He shut his eyes for a moment, trying to dispel the dizziness that suddenly washed over him. The world around him faded; the sounds of traffic and distant machinery became muffled, as if he were sinking underwater.
When he opened his eyes again, nothing in the alleyway had changed, yet everything felt different. The grey, ash-laden air of Oracle City seemed oddly thin, as if reality itself were a fragile piece of parchment on the verge of tearing. The thrumming in his head intensified, vibrating through his skull until his vision blurred.
Leaning against the damp brick wall of the alley, he gasped for breath.
He sensed an inexplicable pull, a magnetic force tugging at the center of his chest—drawing him toward a "place" that didn't exist on any map. This wasn't mana; it was something far older and more primal, something that defied both the G.R.A.'s rules and Sovereign logic.
With trembling fingers, he reached out into the air before him. For just an instant, the smog parted to reveal a glimpse of a sky swirling with deep purples and studded with stars that clearly didn't belong to Earth's galaxy.
Time froze as fear gripped him; his heart stopped when cold text flashed across his vision.
[Ding System Activating....]
[Dimensional Hunter Class Initiating...]
[Origin Realm Initialization: 99%... Connection Stable.]
In that moment of darkness, the rusted coin slipped from his nerveless fingers as Oracle City's reality began to dissolve around him.