Last son

The veins on Mathew's temple bulged and nearly burst.

"How dare you!"

His fists clenched tightly, and just as he was on the verge of an outburst, a memory washed over him. A glimpse of radiant light falling on him. He was sat in a dilapidated room staring at something within the light. An infectious laugh echoed in the room and the image became clearer, revealing a smile so warm and inviting that it filled him with joy.

'Mother...'

A warm sense of calm spread through his body, and a smile made its way onto his face. Mathew felt almost free from all worries. Like nothing in the world could take away this peace. Then as if to mock him, the image began shifting.

The joy-filled smile twisted and contorted. Shifting into a lifeless expression of confusion and pain. The image haunted him like a specter. He clenched his fists tighter, desperately willing the memories to cease. But they didn't. They just played over, and over, and over, and over again. Fueling his rage. And dragging him deeper into its depths.

Then suddenly. Suddenly something snapped.

In that moment something within him broke. It was as if a hurdle that obstructed him came crashing down. He calmed his nerves, slowed his breathing, and focused on a single thought.

'I'm going to kill that icy bastard!'

Living a life while simply struggling to survive till the next day with no clear direction or purpose. That was how Mathew had led his life. Being nothing but a side character in his own story. But for the first time in his eighteen years of life. Even if it was a twisted one driven by nothing but pure rage. He had something to strive for.

To that end, fate had dealt him a card that he himself couldn't have imagined ever getting. He had been chosen, and now had the chance to become a Herald. The opportunity to gain the power he never otherwise had the opportunity to obtain. To become stronger and escape the clutches of a life of poverty, powerlessness, and suffering.

But that didn't change the fact that he found himself in a precarious situation. From what Mathew had heard, which wasn't more than rumors, speculation, pointless gossip, and at times straight-up lies person's first trial wasn't supposed to be anything too difficult. Usually, Herald candidates would find themselves in a difficult but fairly manageable situation based on what the Codex thought them capable of. You could be incarnated as a member of a hunting party or a soldier in an army in a castle with all the necessary tools and weapons to defend it.

But his was different.

Being incarnated as a uselessly weak solder with nothing but worn and tattered leather armor, in some sort of underground structure, this was far from being the fairly manageable situation he had heard about. If anything, he had been handicapped. And that wasn't exactly fair now was it?

It couldn't have been all bad, if the trial had given him such a difficult trial it would have given him just as amazing of a superhuman ability, also known as a trait. A trait is a singular concentration of a Heralds affinities and innate nature, The codex takes those and molds them into their specialization. Granting them unique, and sometimes fantastical powers. Meaning what that trait would be exactly, was all up to fate.

Mathew focused and thought about the phrases that characters in popular webtoons would recite. 'Status window, profile.' but nothing worked. Did it take more than just words to make the window appear?

'How do I do this?"

With a deep breath he focused on the desire, and Ii the next moment, the air around him shimmered, and a set of intricate runes blinked into view, Appearing before him like constellations in the night sky.

Mathew stared at the words, Realizing that the symbols before him were in a different language from what he knew. But for some reason, he felt a strange clarity. He read through the runes once more and their meaning became all too clear to him.

'Is it the power of the codex.'

The chances of it being anything else were unlikely, so he could only accept the scene before him and push aside any other thoughts. Looking down, he quickly found the set of runes describing his trait.

[Name: Mathew]

[Title: None]

[Rank: Candidate]

[Attribute: None]

[Relic: None]

[Trait: Last son of Unknown, Seed of divinity.]

'What?'

He looked below to find its description.

[Trait Description: As the last son of ???, and son of Unknown, you are blessed with great potential, but cursed at the same time. Destined to face the..]

"Last son of ??? Blessed but cursed? Destined to face who? What does any of that mean?"

He stared at the runes, convincing himself that what he was seeing was nothing but a cruel joke. Rubbing his eyes, Mathew looked again but nothing had changed. His hard and grueling but peaceful life had been turned upside down, then he was forcibly thrown into this harsh, world, and now this?!

What did Last Son of ??? mean? He couldn't possibly be that unlucky. Could he?

After letting out an exasperated and long sigh he muttered to himself in a tired tone.

"What the hell do I do now?'

Unbeknownst to Mathew, he had been staring at the beauty of a woman during his internal monologue. Only to be jolted back when she moved her face right in front of his.

"What have you been staring at you imbecile?"

Hurriedly dismissing the runes-apparently only visible to him- he averted his gaze and said.

"I'm sorry. I... I was just lost in thought."

From what Mathew had seen she was nothing but a spoiled brat born with a golden spoon, demanding everything to be done for her. People like that were mostly predictable. Ad if he knew people like her well, in the next few sentences she is either going to say something rude or...

"Lost in thought? How quaint. I suppose that's your excuse for gawking at me like some pervert I presume?"

Right on cue.