Chapter 2. The Awakening and a Year of Human Chaos

(December 31, 2019 - December 30, 2020)

The air in Calamba thrummed with a familiar, joyous chaos. December 31st, 2019. The final night of the decade. From the open windows of their small but sturdy house, Dan Reyes could hear the symphony of the impending New Year – the sharp, staccato pops of lusis and sinturon ni Hudas, the deeper booms of larger fireworks echoing off the nearby slopes of Mount Makiling, the tinny blare of competing karaoke machines, and the ever-present sizzle and scent of street food – grilled isaw, smoky barbecue, sweet bibingka. He was twelve, almost thirteen, perched on the edge of adolescence, and the world felt vast, loud, and full of possibility.

His father, a stout man with kind eyes and calloused hands from his work at a local electronics factory, was setting up their own modest collection of paputok in the small yard, shooing away the curious neighborhood dogs. His mother, her movements quick and efficient, was putting the finishing touches on their Media Noche spread – pansit for long life, twelve round fruits for prosperity, a hefty lechon manok gleaming in the center. And Lyra, his ten-year-old sister, a whirlwind of energy with bright, inquisitive eyes, was busy blowing into a torotot, producing a sound that Dan found both incredibly annoying and deeply endearing.

"Dan, halika! (Come here) Come help!" his mother called, her voice warm but firm. "Stop dreaming and make sure the table is set properly."

Dan grinned, sliding off the window sill. "Coming, 'Ma!"

Life wasn't easy, but it was good. They weren't rich, but they had enough. They had each other. The biggest worries were school exams, whether the old electric fan would survive another sweltering May, and if his father would finally let him try lighting the bigger fireworks this year (unlikely). He moved towards the dining table, grabbing plates, his mind already drifting to the midnight countdown, the shared embraces, the hope that always seemed to ignite with the turn of the calendar.

He placed the last plate down. Lyra blasted her torotot right in his ear, and he yelped, making her giggle. His father chuckled from the doorway, wiping sweat from his brow. His mother smiled, shaking her head fondly. It was a perfect, ordinary moment. A snapshot of life before everything changed.

It happened at precisely 11:59 PM.

One second, the world was a cacophony of light and sound. The next, it was nothing.

Absolute, suffocating silence. Not just the absence of noise, but an anti-noise, a pressure in his ears that felt like drowning. Absolute, impenetrable darkness. Not just a power cut, but a void so complete it felt like his eyes had been plucked out. And absolute, paralyzing stillness. Dan couldn't move a muscle. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't even feel his own heartbeat. Panic, pure and primal, tried to scream, but even his thoughts felt frozen, suspended in an eternal, terrifying instant.

He wasn't sure if it lasted a second or an eon. He was a disembodied point of awareness trapped in an infinite void. Was this death? Had a firework gone wrong? Was this the end of the world? Fear, unlike any he had ever known, consumed him.

And then, as suddenly as it stopped, the world returned.

GASP.

He sucked in a ragged breath, his lungs burning. Sound crashed back in – the fireworks, the music, his father's startled curse – but it felt muted, distant, as if heard through thick glass. Light flooded his vision, but it seemed… sharper, somehow unreal. He could move. He staggered, his limbs feeling both heavy and strangely light. Lyra was staring, wide-eyed, her torotot hanging limply from her hand. His mother had frozen mid-step, her face pale. His father stood rigid, his eyes scanning the street with a sudden, soldier-like intensity.

"What… what was that?" Lyra whispered, her voice trembling.

Before anyone could answer, it appeared.

Right there, in the center of his vision, yet somehow behind his eyes, a panel flickered into existence. It was translucent, a soft, ethereal blue, a rectangle of light filled with sharp, white text that glowed with an otherworldly luminescence. It looked like something straight out of one of his video games, but its presence felt undeniably, terrifyingly real.

[AETHELRED SYSTEM ONLINE - GREETINGS, MORTAL #7,345,998,112]

Name: Daniel 'Dan' Reyes

Level: 1

Class: [PENDING AWAKENING...]

Title: N/A

HP: 100/100

MP: 50/50

[ATTRIBUTES]

* STR: 5

* AGI: 7

* END: 6

* WIL: 5

* INT: 6

* PER: 7

* CHA: 6

[SKILLS]

* [None]

[MESSAGE: WELCOME TO THE AEON OF ASCENSION. AWAKENING PROCESS INITIATED. EMBRACE YOUR POTENTIAL.]

Dan stared, his mind struggling to comprehend. He could see through it, yet it demanded his attention. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, but it remained, hovering steadily in his vision. He heard his mother gasp, his father mutter, "Diyos ko," (My God) and knew they were seeing something similar. Lyra was poking at the air in front of her face, a look of fearful wonder on her face.

Then, the [PENDING AWAKENING...] line began to flash.

A strange sensation washed over Dan. It wasn't unpleasant, but deeply unsettling. It felt like a cool current flowing through his veins, sharpening his senses, tightening his muscles. It felt like… potential. Like a dormant part of him was being switched on. The air seemed clearer, sounds sharper. He felt an almost unbearable urge to move, to run, to climb, to vanish.

The panel flashed brightly.

[AWAKENING COMPLETE! CLASS DETERMINED: ASSASSIN]

[NEW SKILL ACQUIRED: STEALTH (LVL 1)]

[NEW SKILL ACQUIRED: DAGGER MASTERY (LVL 1)]

[ATTRIBUTE MODIFICATION: AGI +3, PER +1]

His Agility score now read 10, Perception 8. He felt… faster. Lighter. More aware. He glanced at his hands, half-expecting them to look different, but they were just his hands. Yet, he knew, with an unshakeable certainty, that he could move like a shadow if he wished.

Midnight struck. Fireworks exploded outside, far louder than before, but the joyous sound was jarring now, out of place. The world hadn't ended. But it had changed. Forever.

The year 2020 wasn't an apocalypse. It was, in many ways, worse. It was a slow, grinding descent into human-made chaos.

The monsters didn't come. Not yet.

The 'Aethelred System', as the global, panicked news outlets eventually dubbed it, became the sole topic of conversation, fear, and obsession. Governments issued statements, scientists debated, religions fractured – some calling it divine, others demonic. But no one had answers. The panels were real, stubbornly persistent in everyone's vision, a constant reminder of the bizarre event.

And the powers… they were real too.

Within weeks, the world split, not along lines of nation or creed, but along the Holy Trinity of newfound power: Tank, DPS, and Healer.

Tanks – individuals awakened with abilities centered on defense, protection, and immense resilience. Some became local heroes, shielding communities from… well, mostly from other newly-powered individuals. Others became living battering rams for newly formed gangs, their near-impenetrable hides making them terrifying enforcers.

DPS – Damage Per Second. These were the strikers, the blasters, the ones with enhanced strength, speed, or strange energy-projecting abilities. Assassins like Dan were a rarer sub-class, focused on stealth and precision. Many DPS revelled in their newfound power, becoming predators in the urban jungle. Fights erupted over scraps, over territory, over perceived slights, with devastating consequences.

Healers – Perhaps the rarest, and most sought-after. Their ability to mend wounds and cure ailments made them invaluable. Some tried to heal the fracturing world, but many were quickly captured, exploited, or forced into servitude by those with more physical power.

The Philippines, like many nations, buckled under the strain. The government, already struggling with existing problems, was powerless against individuals who could shrug off bullets or move faster than the eye could see. Law enforcement became a joke. The military fractured, soldiers using their powers to set up their own fiefdoms.

Dan's family tried to weather the storm. His father, a man of simple faith and pragmatism, had awakened as a low-level 'Guardian' – a Tank subclass. He wasn't powerful, but he was tougher, his resolve given a physical edge. His mother, a 'Soother' – a Healer subclass focused on alleviating pain and calming minds – kept her abilities a closely guarded secret, terrified of being targeted. Lyra, thankfully, had awakened as a 'Support' class with a minor 'Luck Boost' – subtle, non-threatening, easy to hide.

Dan became their shadow. His 'Assassin' class, his natural agility amplified, made him invaluable. While his parents worked odd, dangerous jobs for dwindling pay or bartered goods, Dan became the family's scout and scavenger. He learned to move through the increasingly dangerous streets of Calamba like a ghost. His 'Stealth' skill, though only Level 1, felt natural. He learned to hug shadows, to read patrol patterns of local gangs, to sense danger through his heightened Perception. He wasn't a fighter – at thirteen, he was still small – but he was fast and quiet.

His scavenging trips became harrowing lessons in the new reality. He saw a 'Berserker' (DPS) tear a man apart over a can of sardines. He saw a 'Paladin' (Tank) acting as a brutal tax collector for a local warlord, his 'Holy Shield' deflecting desperate attacks. He saw people with minor abilities treated like dirt, and those without any treated even worse. He learned that the biggest threat wasn't some unknown monster; it was the monster that had always been there, now simply given new teeth.

One sweltering afternoon in June, he was trying to sneak into an abandoned convenience store, rumoured to still have some canned goods. The place was claimed by a small gang led by a 'Pyromancer' (DPS). Dan moved silently, a whisper in the alleyways, his heart pounding. He used his 'Stealth', feeling the world almost… bend around him, his presence dimming. He slipped through a broken window, the glass crunching almost silently under his careful tread.

Inside, it was dark, musty, and mostly empty. But in the back, behind the counter, he saw a glint – a few cans of corned beef. Gold. He crept forward, his senses on high alert. He could hear rough laughter from the front. He reached the counter, grabbed three cans, stuffing them into his worn backpack.

"Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in. A little daga."(Rat)

Dan froze. The voice was low, menacing. He turned slowly. Leaning against the far wall, almost invisible in the shadows, was a young man, barely older than Dan, but with eyes that were cold and ancient. He hadn't sensed him. At all. Another Assassin, or something like it. And much better.

"Those aren't yours, kid," the other boy said, pushing off the wall. He moved with an unsettling grace, his own 'Status Window' flickering briefly, showing a higher level than Dan's.

Dan's mind raced. Fight? Impossible. Run? The window was too far, and this guy was fast. He clutched the straps of his backpack.

"I... I didn't mean any harm. Just hungry."

The other boy chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "Everyone's hungry. That's the point. The strong eat. The weak… they feed the strong." He took another step.

Dan did the only thing he could. He threw one of the cans hard at the boy's head. As the boy flinched, Dan didn't run for the window; he dove behind the counter, rolling, his Agility screaming through his limbs. He heard a curse and the thump of the can hitting the wall. He scrambled through the debris, heading for a small, boarded-up back door he'd spotted earlier. He slammed his shoulder against it. The wood groaned, splintered. He hit it again, adrenaline surging. It gave way.

He burst out into another alley, not daring to look back, and ran. He didn't just run; he flowed. He poured every ounce of his Aethelred-given speed, every bit of his learned stealth, into his escape. He vaulted over low walls, squeezed through narrow gaps, his feet barely seeming to touch the ground. He didn't stop until his lungs burned, his legs ached, and the sounds of the ruined store were far behind him.

He collapsed in a hidden alcove, gasping for breath, clutching the two remaining cans. He had survived. But the encounter left him trembling. The boy's cold eyes, his predatory confidence – it was the face of the new world. Dan wasn't just a scavenger; he was prey. And he hated it. He hated the fear, hated the weakness, hated the gods who had made it all happen. His protective instincts, once focused on simple boyish things, now centered fiercely on his family. He would get faster. He would get quieter. He would do anything to keep them safe.

He checked his Status Window. To his surprise, his 'Stealth' skill had levelled up. Level 4. A small, cold comfort in a world rapidly running out of it.

The year 2020 limped towards its end. Humanity hadn't collapsed, but it had irrevocably fractured. Pockets of order existed, often brutal and authoritarian. Elsewhere, chaos reigned. People adapted. They levelled up, learned new skills, formed alliances. A grim, precarious balance emerged. The Aethelred System became as much a part of life as breathing.

Dan's family had survived. They lived in a fortified apartment block with a few other families, pooling resources, his father and a few other Tanks providing security. Dan, now thirteen, was their most reliable scout, his Stealth and Agility making him almost invisible. He brought back food, medicine, information. He'd seen horrors, but he'd kept his family safe. Lyra's 'Luck Boost' seemed to work in small ways – finding a hidden stash, avoiding a dangerous patrol. His mother's 'Soothing' presence helped keep tensions low in their cramped quarters.

They were surviving. And a dangerous, insidious thought began to creep in: maybe this was it. Maybe this was the 'new normal'. Maybe the System, the powers, the human chaos – maybe that was the entirety of the gods' plan. Maybe the monsters, the apocalypses everyone had feared in that first panicked year, weren't coming.

As December 30th dawned, a heavy, oppressive feeling began to settle over Calamba, over the entire world. It wasn't just the usual dread. It was something different. Something waiting. The air felt thin. The perpetual grey sky seemed darker. Even the local gangs seemed quieter, more watchful.

That night, Dan lay on his thin mat, listening to Lyra's quiet breathing. He clutched his dagger. He couldn't shake the feeling of foreboding. The first year had brought chaos from within. What would the second New Year's Eve bring?

He looked at his Status Window, a familiar, unwelcome companion in the dark. Level 8. Assassin. Stealth Lvl 7. Dagger Mastery Lvl 5. He was stronger, faster. But he felt smaller, more vulnerable than ever.

Something was coming. The System had been just the prelude. The real game, he felt with a certainty that chilled him to the bone, was about to begin. And he was terrified that, despite everything, he wasn't ready.