Anomaly
Azricel sprinted through the dimly lit campus, his breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps. His lungs burned, his legs ached, and the tiny demon spawn perched on his shoulder? Completely unbothered, purring like this was a leisurely evening jog and not a life-or-death chase from two mutant, man-eating rats.
The main dorm building loomed ahead, its towering concrete pillars casting long shadows in the flickering campus lights. Azricel ducked behind one, pressing himself flush against the cool surface. His pulse thundered in his ears as he tried to quiet his breathing.
A shrill, bone-chilling screech rang out as the rats barreled past, their grotesque, oversized bodies blurring in the darkness. Their red eyes gleamed, jaws snapping at the air, but—
They didn't notice him.
Azricel kept still, waiting. Listening.
The scuttling faded.
A beat.
Two.
And then—
Silence.
Azricel finally let out the breath he'd been holding, shoulders sagging.
"Okay. Okay, we lived," he muttered, voice still breathless. He glared at Salem, who was perfectly at ease, licking a tiny paw like he hadn't just watched his owner nearly die.
"Would it kill you to look even a little concerned?" Azricel grumbled, wiping the sweat from his brow.
Salem yawned.
Azricel took that as a no and continued toward his dorm, keeping low, stepping carefully, his entire body coiled with tension in case those things doubled back.
When he reached his room, his heart skipped at the sight of the locked door.
He patted down his scrub pockets, stomach twisting at the possibility that he had dropped his keys somewhere in that chaotic sprint, but—
Bless the heavens.
The key was still there.
He quickly shoved it into the lock, fumbling with the door in his haste. Salem let out a lazy, satisfied purr as if pleased with his efforts.
The second Azricel was inside, he locked the door behind him.
The first thing he noticed?
His half of the dorm was immaculate.
His roommate's?
A biohazard.
Crumpled papers, random robot parts, tangled wires, an entire half-finished drone sitting on the desk like it had just been dissected. Azricel exhaled through his nose, shaking his head as he made a beeline for his side of the room.
He pulled open a drawer, grabbing the first set of clean clothes he could find—a black hoodie and matching sweatpants.
The little cat menace finally hopped off his shoulder as Azricel grabbed the hem of his scrub shirt, yanking it off.
The cool air brushed against his skin, his toned body flexing slightly from the motion.
Had there been witnesses, there would have been a lot of questions.
Because why would a medical student be built like a professional combatant?
The eight-pack situation alone was suspicious.
Azricel wasn't even that vain, but when your survival rate depended on outrunning unhinged lab experiments and not dying, you tend to stay in shape.
He kicked off his scrub pants next, quickly pulling on his hoodie and sweatpants. Soft, warm, comfortable.
His white hair, usually tied back, came loose, cascading silkily down his back.
For a moment, he debated leaving it.
Then shook his head and tied it into a half-up style, ignoring the loose strands that refused to behave.
There were more important things to worry about.
Like packing.
Azricel moved with practiced efficiency, yanking open another drawer and pulling out his backpack—a large, heavy-duty one meant for survival.
He shoved in five sets of clothes, six pairs of underwear, a comb, toothbrush, toothpaste, and any hygiene products that came to mind. Then came the water—seven bottles—followed by energy drinks, protein bars, and any non-perishables he had stashed away.
Next?
The important stuff.
He swung open a cabinet, grabbing three bottles of unlabeled pills.
His pills.
He didn't waste time reading labels—he already knew what each one did. Necessary.
Without hesitation, he popped one into his mouth, swallowing it dry before shoving the rest into his bag.
Then came the flashlight, power bank, and snacks.
By the time he was finished, the bag was stuffed full.
It was heavy but manageable.
Azricel slung it over his shoulder, gaze shifting to the tiny void gremlin now watching him.
Salem was still licking his paw, tail swishing idly.
Azricel sighed.
He thought about ditching the cat.
But then he remembered how easily it had blinked back to him.
Yeah. No point.
He'd have better luck outrunning death itself.
Instead, his mind drifted back to the mechanical voice.
It had activated the moment the rat appeared.
Now, after all the chaos, he finally had a second to process it.
What the hell was that?
Azricel stared at nothing.
Or, more accurately, he stared at the space in front of him, where he knew something had triggered back in the classroom. That mechanical voice hadn't just been a hallucination.
The problem?
There was no interface. No menu. No screen.
"Okay," he muttered, adjusting the strap of his backpack. "Maybe I need to say something."
He exhaled and tried the classics.
"System."
Nothing.
"Status?"
Nothing.
"Open menu? Stats? Inventory?"
Absolutely. Nothing.
Azricel pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning. "You know, most other people in novels get these things activated automatically. I nearly get eaten alive, and I still have to do manual labor?"
Salem, who had made himself comfortable on Azricel's bed, stretched lazily, tail flicking. If the little gremlin had any insights, he wasn't sharing them.
Azricel sighed and sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees.
Think.
The voice had spoken inside his head.
Which meant…
"Do I have to think it?"
Okay that sounded stupid.
But at this point? Could h really complain?
Azricel focused, clearing his mind.
And then, with forcefull intent, he willed the system to appear.
—
[Welcome, Host.]
—
Azricel's body locked up.
A wave of something unseen washed over him, crawling up his spine and settling deep in his chest, like something had taken root inside him.
The room suddenly felt sharper, the air thicker, the entire world subtly different.
A flood of golden text appeared before his eyes.
—
[Anomaly Detected.
Analyzing…]
—
Azricel's breath caught.
Anomaly?
That didn't sound good.
More lines of text scrolled rapidly.
—
[Grade? … Unknown]
[Race? … Unknown (Partial Mutation Detected)]
[Bloodline Integration: Successful.]
—
Azricel froze.
Bloodline what?
Before he could react, the screen flashed again.
—
[Loading all available bloodlines…
Unlocking primary: [Voidborn].]
—
The second that word settled, Azricel felt something inside him shift.
It wasn't painful.
It wasn't violent.
But it was… unnatural.
Like something old had just stirred awake inside him.
Azricel's pulse pounded, his muscles tensing like his body was bracing for something, but—
Nothing.
No sudden explosions of power. No instant knowledge dumps.
Just silence.
The system didn't care for his panic. More text flooded in.
—
[Status Window]
Name: Azricel Lumineer
Race: Unknown (Voidborn Hybrid)
Title: None
Bloodline: [Voidborn - unlocked] (Other Bloodlines Pending)
Affinity: void]
—
Stats:
Mana: 10 (Starting capacity for energy-based abilities.)
Stamina: 16 (How much he could endure before collapsing.)
Intelligence: 30 (Processing speed, memory, and learning potential.)
Power Level: 20 (A measure of raw force, independent of strength.)
Perception: 25 (Awareness of surroundings and subtle details.)
Dexterity: 22 (Agility, reflexes, and fine motor skills.)
Strength: 18 (Physical force and durability.)
—
Azricel blinked.
That was… a lot.
And those numbers weren't low.
The average person's stats—assuming he was working with a ten-point baseline—would probably be in the 6–10 range.
Azricel was far above that.
And then, at the very bottom of the screen, was something new.
—
[Core Abilities - Locked]
Primary Abilities Slot Unavailable.
—
Azricel narrowed his eyes.
So he had potential, but not access.
"What the hell even is a Voidborn?" he muttered.
The system didn't answer.
Of course not.
Salem finally stopped licking his paws, tilting his head at him.
Azricel pointed a finger. "If you know anything about this, say it now."
Salem yawned.
Azricel sighed. "Yeah, that's what I thought."