The Awakening of Solvyr

A young boy walked into the grand hall, his footsteps echoing through the towering marble pillars. His heart pounded in his chest, a mixture of joy, fear, and anticipation coursing through his veins. Today was the day his future would be determined—the day of his Awakening.

25 years ago, the world had been forever changed. A massive rift tore open the skies, its appearance like a pitch-black void swallowing the horizon. At first, humanity was divided—some believed it to be a divine gift from the gods, while others saw it as the beginning of the end. The latter was right. Without warning, the colossal rift exploded outward, unleashing horrors beyond comprehension.

Monsters, unlike anything seen before, poured through the rupture—beasts of twisted flesh and malevolent hunger, each more grotesque than the last. They weren't mindless; they were precise, calculated, and they all had one thing in common: the insatiable desire to eradicate life. The death toll surged. Cities crumbled overnight. Humanity's reign was no more.

The world's population plummeted from nine billion to a mere two billion in the span of months. Hope was all but lost. But when humanity teetered on the edge of extinction, something changed—something beyond explanation. A system, like an unseen force of order, manifested within every surviving human. It granted unique abilities to each individual, their last fighting chance against extinction. Even with these newfound powers, humanity could only struggle to hold the line. They were forced to retreat, to abandon their fractured civilizations, and take refuge on a single continent—Australia.

It was there that the survivors, wielding their diverse abilities, united for the first time. Over the course of years, they constructed an impenetrable wall—a last bastion against the abyss that lurked beyond. Humanity endured, but at a cost. They became caged, trapped in a world where survival dictated purpose.

April 30, 2035 – Present Day

"This is it…" Solvyr whispered to himself, inhaling sharply as he stepped forward. His hands trembled slightly, but he clenched them into fists, steadying his nerves.

Today was the day he would receive his Awakening.

He had spent his entire life at the bottom of society, scraping by in the lower districts where food was scarce and hope was even scarcer. For those born into poverty, an Awakening was more than just a milestone—it was a ticket to a new life. If his abilities were strong, he could escape this wretched existence, perhaps even gain status and recognition. If they were weak… he would remain shackled to the slums, living each day on the precipice of starvation.

He glanced around the hall. Hundreds of other teenagers were waiting, their faces filled with either excitement or dread. A few feet away, a group of noble heirs stood together, their expensive cloaks and polished boots setting them apart from the commoners. They whispered amongst themselves, their eyes glinting with superiority.

"Wow, the heir of the Brethen family got an S+ Art," one student murmured in awe. "Something related to blood manipulation. Figures."

"Must be nice being rich," another muttered bitterly.

Solvyr ignored them, stepping forward as the registrar called the next name. A young man with greasy black hair and dark eyes approached the podium. His skin was pale, his frame gaunt—clear signs of malnutrition. A faded scar ran down his nose, a testament to the countless fights he had endured just to survive.

"Next!" the registrar called.

Solvyr swallowed and walked up to the Awakening Orb. A swirling mass of energy pulsed within the crystal sphere, shimmering with a light that held the promise of transformation.

"Just place your hand gently, young man," the registrar instructed, barely glancing at him.

Solvyr nodded and pressed his palm against the orb. A surge of energy coursed through him, tingling along his veins. His vision blurred for a moment, the world around him fading into an endless void. And then, the system's voice echoed in his mind.

Name: Solvyr

Soul: ???

Art: None

Ability:

Soul Griever {S+++} – Devour a soul to unlock.

Solvyr's breath hitched. He stared at the floating text in front of him, his heart sinking like a stone. None?

"No…" he muttered under his breath, his chest tightening.

Silence filled the hall as the registrar read his results. Then, she let out a low chuckle, her eyes flashing with amusement.

"Wow. I'm actually impressed. You're the first person I've seen with a system that provides no Art, no Ability, and no leveling system." She sneered. "What even are you?"

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Some students snickered, others whispered in disbelief.

Solvyr stood frozen, his mind blank. His entire life, he had fought to escape the gutter—to rise above the filth and carve a future for himself. But now? Now he was nothing.

A sudden gust of wind swept through the hall. A figure materialized beside the registrar—a tall, battle-worn man with silver hair and piercing amber eyes. He carried the air of a veteran, his very presence demanding respect.

"Kid," the old man said, his voice like gravel. "Are you sure you don't have an Art?"

Solvyr hesitated. There was something in the old man's gaze—a flicker of intrigue.

"No," Solvyr admitted, forcing a weak smile. "But I have an S+++ Ability."

The old man raised an eyebrow. "An S+++ Ability without an Art? That's unheard of."

"Technically, it's useless," the registrar chimed in smugly. "Arts determine how a person utilizes their ability—the nature of their power. Without one, his so-called 'S+++' Ability is worthless."

Solvyr clenched his fists. "So… I'm useless?"

The old man studied him for a moment before smirking. "Depends. Let's see what this 'Soul Griever' of yours can do."

Solvyr nodded, determined not to let this be his end. But before he could respond, the old man spoke again.

"Check your inventory," he suggested. "Maybe you received a weapon suited for you."

Solvyr hesitated but opened his system interface.

Inventory: None

He exhaled sharply. Nothing. Not even a basic weapon.

The old man threw his head back and let out a boisterous laugh. "HAHAHA! Kid, if what you're saying is true, then congratulations—I'm giving you the title of 'Humanity's Weakest.'"

Solvyr forced a smile, but deep down, a fire burned within him.

"Well," he said, looking the old man dead in the eye, "if that's the case… can I at least enlist? I want to see what's outside."

The laughter died down. The old man studied him intently before sighing. "You're basically asking to die."

"Maybe," Solvyr admitted. "But I'd rather die early outside than rot away in here."

For the first time in a long while, the old man grinned, an approving glint in his eyes.

"Interesting."