As the train chugged steadily toward Elarith City, the rhythmic hum of the mana-powered engine filled the air, lulling many passengers into a peaceful daze.
Amon Vale, however, sat by the window, lost in thought, chin resting on his hand as the scenery blurred past.
Rolling hills, scattered farms, and sleepy villages zipped by outside, but his mind was sowhere else entirely.
He let out a sigh. "It’s been a while since I actually looked at it."
With a flick of focus and a quiet murmur, he muttered, "Status."
A faint shimr of light appeared in front of him, invisible to others, forming a translucent window only he could see.
---
[Status Window]
Na: Amon Vale
Age: 17
Rank: Awakened
Class: Death Bearer
Elents: Shadow, Darkness
Mana:50
Strength: 16
Agility: 21
Speed: 24
Endurance: 10
Skills: —(none)
Spells: [Gloom Orb], [Shadow Clutch]
---
"Wow," Amon muttered, deadpan. "So underwhelming it hurts."
He leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, staring at the flickering screen.
"Talk about a scam. ’Death Bearer’? I thought I hit the jackpot when I first saw that title. I was ready to walk around in black robes, summon skeletons, throw scythes made of shadows, maybe get a cool undead pet or sothing."
He sighed again.
"But nooo. Turns out the only thing I’m bearing is disappointnt."
Classes were a big deal in this world. When soone becos Awakened—the first and most basic stage of power—it often cos with the chance of receiving a class.
Not everyone got one, but those who did had the potential for unique growth. Classes dictated the kinds of skills you could learn, what role you’d be suited for in battle, and, more importantly, what kind of future you could build.
Most important that they can awaken new special abilitis that are related to their class.
Amon was lucky—or unlucky—enough to awaken both a class and having double elents: Shadow and Darkness.
Which sounded pretty cool on paper... but not when you had zero natural talent.
"Yeah, yeah, I get it," he muttered sarcastically to himself. "Maybe if I had been born in a noble house, had five private tutors, and spent my childhood training in a magic tower, I’d be throwing void spears by now. But nope. Born broke. Raised poorer. Self-taught through sheer suffering."
Well he knew that there are still commoners who despite having no ntor or master,they still becos very strong because being talented.
So no excuses for him.
His stats weren’t exactly impressive either. He’d been training for nearly two years and all he had to show for it was slightly-above-average speed and agility.
His strength and endurance? Still pathetic. And don’t even get him started on his mana control.
"Two spells," he mumbled, glaring at the status window. "Two. In two years. And one of them is just a spooky ball of gloom."
[Gloom Orb] was basically a floating blob of dark energy that could mildly disorient soone if it hit them right.Also it does so minor injury as well since it blast when hit soone. Great for mood lighting, not so great in actual combat.
[Shadow Clutch] was a bit better—it could grab soone’s ankle or wrist with a shadowy hand for a few seconds. Useful in a street fight, maybe. Against a monster or another mage? Probably useless.
Still, he had to remind himself, he was at least better off than the truly unfortunate.
Awakening wasn’t guaranteed. About 80 to 90% of people managed to beco Awakened, usually around age 15, by undergoing the ritual at the Temple of the Light Goddess.
A sacred ceremony, aided by the use of an artifact called the "Awakening Crystal," would infuse a candidate with strong mana current, kickstarting their connection to magic.
The dornmant mana inside human body becos active and started to flowed by this.
Those who succeeded could manipulate mana, learn spells, and potentially grow stronger through training.
Those who failed... well, they stayed Mundane. Just regular humans, stuck in a world of magic with no power to defend themselves.
Amon, at least, had managed to Awaken. And more than that, he got a class—even if it was one no one could explain.
’Death Bearer,’ he thought again. "What does that even an?"
The priests at the awakening ritual didn’t know. No record of such a class existed in public archives.
It wasn’t in any books he’d read. When he first received it, he’d assud he’d awaken death-related powers. Sothing cool. Sothing legendary.
Well most of the ti people don’t disclose there class to anyone not even priest,also they don’t bother asking everyone about it.But Amon being Amon he still ask the priest and got nothing.
But here he was. Sitting on a train with a suitcase full of cheap clothes, barely able to use beginner magic, and on his way to Arcadia Academy—a place filled with prodigies, monsters, and future warlords.
"I’m gonna die, aren’t I?" he muttered, flopping back in his seat with a groan.Well that’s not matter,he will try his best to survive.
He closed the status window with a blink and glanced out the window. The view had changed—the landscape was now dotted with small towns and outposts, a sign they were nearing the outskirts of Elarith.
He checked the station sign as they passed one.
"Only one more stop... probably another hour," he guessed.
His thoughts drifted again. About his journey so far. About what would co next.
When he first beca Awakened, he’d been thrilled. But the world didn’t hand out blessings freely.
He had no teacher, no ntor, no noble bloodline. He’d done his best, reading stolen spellbooks, experinting with mana flow late at night in the tavern storeroom, and ditating in alleyways.
Soone who had read so many novels and watch ani.He did have so ideas about this.Like he needs to kill sothing or so people.
Well he can’t do that though.
’I did have killed so people though before becoming Awakened’ he rember but dismissed that thought.
After starting to work for Mr.Ellias he didn’t try to live a dangerous life so never got a chance to kill any other human again.
He had work and train quite hard while doing his part ti job.There were days his head pounded from mana overuse.
Nights where he’d lie in bed, thinking about how far behind he was.
And even with all that effort, the best he’d achieved was learning two weak spells.
But then... there was that night at the tavern. That drunk woman. That golden ticket.
So people trained their whole lives to get into Arcadia Academy. Nobles bribed their way in. So people fought over recomndation letters.
And Amon? He got in because he helped a drunk powerhouse get to her car.
"I think my luck is becoming far powerful now," he joked aloud.
Still... a chance was a chance. Even if he was the weakest student there, he’d still graduate with a credential powerful enough to change his life.
Civil jobs, research opportunities, adventuring licenses—doors that were sealed shut to commoners like him would swing wide open.
He just had to survive the experience.
"I guess I’ll finally get the chance to see what this ’Death Bearer’ thing actually does. Maybe it’s just waiting to unlock sothing once I’ve... you know... done sothing morbid."
He paused. "Please don’t let it involve corpse-eating."
Outside the window, the trees were thinning. Large stone walls ca into view, rising tall against the skyline. Mana-lamps glowed along the railway. Guard towers watched silently over the passing train.
Elarith City.
The neutral city. Ho of the Arcadia Academy. The center of culture, magic, and power on the continent.
And the place where Amon’s life was about to be turned completely upside-down.
He sat up straighter, adjusting his shirt collar, trying to look presentable even though his nerves were doing backflips.
"This is it," he whispered.
His future might be uncertain.
His powers might be weak.
And his class might be a complete mystery.
But damn it—he was going to give it his all.
Even if it killed him.
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