Chapter 3 – The Calm Before the Storm
The years drifted by like the slow fall of snow over the northern mountains.
Ray turned five. Then six. Then eight.
With each passing season, he felt the stirrings of power inside him—dormant, hidden, like embers under ash. The System, Seventeen, remained silent, but Ray never stopped listening. He trained his mind, his memory, and his body. After all, this wasn't just a second chance. It was a reset. And this time, he wouldn't stumble in blind.
---
Moonveil remained peaceful, though not untouched by the world's cruelty.
Once, a mana beast crept too close—an F-rank Shadow Lynx. Sleek. Silent. Nearly invisible in the dark.
It mauled a farmer's horse and vanished into the night before the hunters could react. The beast was eventually slain two days later—by Grandmother Asha.
Ray remembered watching her return, clothes torn, hair wild, one arm wrapped in bloodied cloth. On her back, the lynx's body hung like a trophy.
"Don't get cocky, boy," she said to Ray, noticing his wide-eyed admiration. "Even the weakest fangs can kill if you don't respect them."
Ray bowed his head and committed the lesson to memory.
---
By age nine, Ray could read and write fluently. Asha insisted on teaching him the ancient runes of the mountain clans—symbols of power, used in forgotten rituals and early mana control.
He learned about herbs from his mother and how to skin small game from his father. Mayla, now twelve, trained with a wooden spear gifted by the village guard. She still bullied Ray into sparring—but now she had to try.
He was fast.
Quiet.
Stronger than he looked.
"You're a freak," Mayla grumbled after being tripped for the third time in a row.
Ray just smiled. "You'll thank me when I save your butt from a wild rat-beast."
---
One evening, under a crimson sunset, Grandmother Asha finally told him the truth.
They sat near the cliff's edge, where the hill dipped into the valley. The wind howled around them, tossing their cloaks like loose sails.
"There are twelve continents," Asha began, poking a stick into the fire. "Each with their own laws. Their own threats. But only two are still safe from large-scale invasions."
Ray stared at her, attentive.
Asha didn't speak often. When she did, every word felt carved in stone.
"Most humans live on the Eastern Spine or the Twinheart Basin. The rest…" She sighed. "Beast tides, insect worlds, demon realms. Gates have opened and swallowed half the known lands."
"Gates?" Ray asked.
She nodded. "Dimensional. Tiered. Each gate leads to a different world—most hostile. They appear at random. Some stay for days. Others… years. The higher the tier, the longer it lasts. The stronger the threat."
Ray clenched his fists.
"Is that why everyone trains? Why the awakening matters so much?"
"Exactly," Asha said. "Without a class, you're prey. With one, you can fight. You can survive."
She paused.
"Some awaken with strength. Some with speed. Others with magic. But very few… very few awaken something special. A hidden class. A forbidden one."
Ray's pulse quickened.
"Like?"
Asha's eyes narrowed. "There are whispers—banned scrolls, lost tombs. Classes like Deathweaver, Soulbinder, Dreamcaller. Or the rarest of all…"
Ray held his breath.
"…Necromancer."
She glanced at him, as if watching for a reaction.
He kept his face neutral.
"People fear what they don't understand," Asha said. "And necromancers? They understand death. That frightens even the gods."
---
On his tenth birthday, Ray received a gift.
Not from his parents, who gave him a leather-bound journal and a new cloak.
Not from Mayla, who carved him a wooden figure of a dragon and pretended it wasn't the coolest thing she'd ever made.
No, the gift came from Seventeen.
> [System Sleeping...] [User Age Check – 10 Years, 0 Months] [System Awakening: 10%] ["Almost there, Ray."]
He gasped.
It wasn't words. Not fully. More like a presence. A whisper against his soul.
The first touch in years.
He gripped the journal tighter, heart thudding in his chest.
"I'm ready," he whispered. "Almost."
---
Power in this world was ranked by letters.
At the bottom: F-rank. Children, civilians, untrained bodies.
Next came E, then D, all the way to S, SS, and SSS.
Each rank had nine levels, measured by mana strength, skill control, and real battle capability.
Above that… legends whispered of divine realms. God-level awakeners. Beings who'd passed the SSS threshold and stepped into something else.
No one in Moonveil had reached even A-rank.
The village elder was D-rank. Asha? B-rank—at least, that's what she told others.
But Ray knew better.
One night, he'd seen her light her palm with white-blue mana that scorched the earth in a circle. That wasn't B-rank.
---
The world was divided into roles and classes.
At age twelve, every child underwent an Awakening Ritual.
Some received simple classes like Fighter or Gatherer. Others, if lucky, were granted Mage, Tamer, or Scout.
The strongest classes—Elementalist, Runeblade, Shadowstep, Saint—were rare. Often family-born or tied to ancient bloodlines.
Ray didn't know what class he would receive.
But he knew what he wanted.
A class that could protect.
A class that wouldn't let him fail again.
And when he closed his eyes at night, he felt the same whisper echo from deep within his soul.
> "At twelve, we awaken. Be patient."
---
Near the end of his eleventh year, something changed.
Mana beasts grew restless. The forest to the east began shimmering at night, like something ancient was stirring.
Mayla returned home one day pale and quiet. She'd been hunting rabbits. Instead, she'd found tracks—large, clawed, and scorched into the earth.
The hunters didn't believe her.
But Ray did.
And so did Asha.
She took Mayla aside and spoke to her in hushed tones. Then she doubled the warding circles around the house. Reinforced the mana lanterns. Checked the village's old signal crystals.
Ray watched it all.
Quietly preparing. Silently waiting.
---
On the night before his twelfth birthday, Ray stood at the edge of the forest.
The stars above glittered like shattered diamonds.
The world was calm.
But deep inside, his soul burned.
> "Tomorrow," Seventeen whispered again. "We begin."
And Ray smiled.
Because finally, finally…
It was time.
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