The metallic tang of mana exhaust still clung to Suka's clothes, a phantom scent from the awakening hall. He moved through the city's arteries, the bustling streets a blur of faces and hurried footsteps. The towering structure of the Awakened Association, its polished facade reflecting the harsh mid-day sun, faded behind him. He clutched his new license, a sleek, data-encrypted card, its weight a strange, foreign presence in his palm. He was an Awakener. A Necromancer. With a secret.
His shared apartment, a cramped, noisy refuge, awaited. Five others lived there, a rotating cast of characters he'd learned to mostly ignore since leaving the orphanage two years ago. He navigated the familiar maze of the lower city, the scent of stale cooking oil and damp concrete growing stronger with each block. The building loomed, a block of grey, featureless concrete. He pushed open the heavy main door, the hinges groaning in protest.
A burst of laughter erupted from the communal kitchen, followed by the clatter of pots. Suka flinched, his shoulders tensing. He didn't want to talk. Not now. He needed to think, to process the tectonic shift in his life. He needed silence.
He slipped through the narrow hallway, his steps light, hoping to remain unnoticed. The kitchen door stood ajar. A familiar voice boomed, thick with the day's work.
"Look who decided to grace us with his presence!"
Suka froze. It was Borin, one of the older residents, a burly man whose laugh shook the floorboards. Borin, a grunt worker at the mana refinery, held a steaming mug in a calloused hand. His face, usually a map of grime and fatigue, was flushed with a rare cheer.
"Come on, Suka, don't be a stranger," Borin said, gesturing with his mug. "We were just about to eat. Got some stew on. You look like you've seen a ghost."
Suka's hand instinctively went to the license in his pocket. A ghost. He'd seen something far more profound.
"I'm good, Borin," Suka muttered, keeping his voice low, his eyes fixed on the floor. He edged towards his room, the door a sanctuary. "Just tired. Long day."
"Long day? You just got back from the Awakening Hall, didn't you?" Borin's voice held a knowing edge. "Saw you leaving this morning. Bright and early. Don't tell me you're still trying that nonsense. You're twenty now, boy. The window closes."
A younger voice, sharp and mocking, cut in. "Leave him alone, Borin. He just doesn't want to admit he failed again. Some people just aren't cut out for it." It was Kael, barely eighteen, his face perpetually sneering. Kael had awakened a year ago, a low-tier Fire Mage, and hadn't let anyone forget it. He leaned against the counter, a faint, reddish aura shimmering around his hands.
Suka's jaw tightened. He ignored Kael, his gaze darting between Borin and the open kitchen door. He needed to escape.
"Heard they're cracking down on late bloomers, anyway," Kael continued, enjoying Suka's discomfort. "Wasting the UGS's time. Should just stick to shoveling crystals, Suka. It's what you're good at."
Borin frowned, a flicker of disapproval crossing his face. "That's enough, Kael. Everyone gets their shot. Or not. It's not for us to judge."
"It is when they're wasting resources," Kael shot back, his eyes narrowing. "Mana crystals aren't free, old man. Someone's gotta pay for those awakening spheres. And it's not Suka."
Suka took a deep breath. His hand clenched into a fist. He could feel the familiar thrum of mana beneath his skin, a new, potent energy. The urge to activate his panel, to show them, flared hot. But he suppressed it. His secret.
"I'm really just tired," Suka repeated, his voice strained. He took another step, his fingers brushing the cool metal of his doorknob.
"Fine, fine," Borin said, a sigh escaping him. "Go on, then. But the stew's good. Don't come complaining later when it's all gone."
Suka didn't reply. He ducked into his room, shutting the door with a soft click, blocking out the kitchen chatter. He leaned against it, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. The silence of his small room, though often a source of loneliness, felt like a balm.
He pushed off the door, crossing the cramped space to his cot. He pulled out his license, the blue screen materializing before him as he tapped it. The familiar characters glowed, stark and undeniable.
**NAME: SUKA**
**CLASS: NECROMANCER**
**LEVEL: 1 (0/100 EXP)**
**STATS:**
**STRENGTH - 10 (100 Attack Power, +100% Critical Damage)**
**AGILITY - 10 (10 km/h, 10% Critical Chance)**
**INTELLIGENT - 10 (100 MP, 1 MP/10 sec)**
**CONSTITUTION - 10 (100 HP, 1 HP/10 sec, 10 Defense(Attack Negation))**
**SKILLS:**
**SKELETON SUMMON( F-RANK) - Use 100 MP to summon 1 skeleton, with stats of (10 HP, 1 Defense, 10 Attack, 1km/h).**
**UNDERWORLD POCKET( F- RANK) - Store your summon in this pocket dimension. Your summons recovers 1% HP/1 min and 1% MP/1 min. You can store 10 summons( 10 x your level).**
**TALENT:**
**OVERWHELMING ARMY- You have an additional pocket dimension that can store unlimited summons. In this dimension any summon you store here experience fission every hour(summons duplicate every hour). Current stored summons: 0**
He stared at the panel, specifically at the "Skeleton Summon" skill.
"Man, these skeletons really live up to their shitty reputation," Suka murmured, his voice flat. "What's this? You can literally finish it off with just using 10% of your strength." He traced the stats with a finger. "Ten HP, one defense. A stiff breeze would shatter it. I really need to upgrade this skill or get a better one."
He remembered the fragmented knowledge he'd absorbed over the years, whispers from other Awakened, snippets from overheard conversations.
"I once heard you can upgrade skills in two ways," Suka mused, pacing the small space. "The first is a class upgrade, happens every twenty levels. That's a long way off. The other way is a skill upgrade stone. Found in the Trial of Death."
He stopped, his gaze unfocused as he recalled the details. "The Trial of Death… it's a rift, but not like the others. Not a dead universe invading a living one. This one's managed by the UGS. Monsters from different dead universes, they come in waves. You declare how many waves you'll fight, then you can't leave until you beat them all, or you die."
A shiver ran down his spine. "More waves, higher chance for a Skill Upgrade Stone. But it's a death trap."
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's a pity I missed the Awakener academies. Age limit's eighteen. I heard they're important. Connect with other Awakened, powerful people. Grow your strength in safe environments. They even have their own rifts, some UGS-managed, like the Trial of Death. And mentors. People with similar classes to guide you."
Suka kicked at a loose floorboard. "I'm really at a disadvantage here. Not only do I have to learn everything on my own, but I have to risk my life in wild rifts. Unknown rifts. No guidance." His eyes drifted to his talent, *Overwhelming Army*. "Though I have this… this powerful talent. But my road's still not easy. Alone. So much to learn."
He stared out the window. The sky, once a brilliant blue, had deepened to a bruised purple. The city lights began to prickle the deepening gloom. Hours had passed, lost in thought.
"Alright, finalize the plan," Suka said, his voice firm, cutting through the silence. "First thing, summon a skeleton. Put it in my talent pocket. Let it multiply." He pictured the exponential growth, a silent, unseen army forming. "Then, tomorrow. Local market. Scrap equipment. I only have five thousand credits saved." He grimaced. "Five months of furnace pay. Barely anything."
He rubbed his temples. "Hopefully, I can get some decent gear. A rope, definitely. And a wand. Something to increase my mana. As it stands, I can summon one skeleton, then I'm out of mana. Useless."
He made a sharp gesture with his hand. "If I can summon two or three, though, that changes things. Even just two could make a difference. After equipment, see about HP or MP potions. If they fit the budget, buy them. Can't be too careful."
He shook his head. "No rifts tomorrow. Not yet. Wait for the talent to take effect. At least twenty hours. That should give me… more than a million summons." He allowed himself a small, grim smile. The thought of a million skeletal warriors, even weak ones, was a powerful motivator.
He closed his eyes, focusing. Mana, a cool current, flowed from his core, coalescing. He opened his eyes, a faint blue glow emanating from his palms. The air shimmered. Bones, pale and ancient, began to knit themselves together, rising from the floorboards.
A skeletal figure stood before him. Frail, with cracks running through its skull and ribs, it looked ready to crumble. Blue flames flickered in its empty eye sockets, the only part that held any semblance of menace.
"Man, how will you even fight, if you're this frail?" Suka muttered, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face. The skeleton stood motionless, a silent, bony sentinel.
He reached out, placing a hand on its shoulder. The skeletal frame felt cold, brittle. He concentrated, a new portal, unseen by any but himself, shimmering into existence. The skeleton dissolved, not into dust, but into motes of light, drawn into the invisible dimension.
*Current stored summons: 1.* The panel updated, a silent confirmation.
Suka exhaled, the last of his mana draining from him. He collapsed onto his cot, the day's events catching up. The hum of the city, the distant shouts, the lingering scent of Borin's stew, all faded. He closed his eyes. Sleep, deep and dreamless, claimed him. The army would wait.