Chapter 3: Depressing Stats and Echoes of Tamas

"This is all… a bit much," I muttered, barely able to follow the flood of information.

"I mean—my powers were locked? By who? That's not something just anyone can do, right? The system isn't exactly open-source."

The man didn't answer with words. Instead, he gave me a silent glance—first at the chair that reshaped itself according to my comfort, then toward the window showing a perfect sunset despite us being underground.

His point was clear.

I sighed. "Okay, fine. Message received. Nothing works the way it used to."

Still, the thought gnawed at me.

"If someone did lock my powers… maybe they were protecting me? Without that 'Consciousness' stat as a safeguard, I might've done something reckless. I wasn't exactly mature back then. Honestly, I probably would've broken time by trying to stop traffic or impress a girl."

He let out a dry chuckle, but his expression shifted quickly—calm, but calculating.

"It's good that you realize your limits," he said. "But don't mistake that for growth. You're older now, sure. Wiser? We'll see."

He leaned forward, eyes sharp. "And I don't have to explain how I know that."

There was weight in his words—like he'd seen more of me than I had.

Then his tone changed.

"The truth is, we don't know who locked your powers. We don't know how strong they are, or why they intervened. Could've been one person. Could've been many. Maybe they were protecting you… or maybe they didn't want you to awaken at all."

He paused.

"But one thing is certain. They go by a single name: The Blacksmith."

Something about that name chilled the air. I didn't know why, but it settled inside me like an unfinished sentence.

"For now," he added, "don't reveal your real ability. Keep it hidden."

Without another word, he opened a glowing portal beside him. No gestures. No drama. Just a smooth ripple in space, like he was pulling aside a curtain.

From inside, he took out a small, glowing thread and placed it into my hands. It shimmered faintly, then coiled around my wrist, tying itself into a Kalava—a sacred thread I recognized from religious rituals.

"This will protect you," he said. "Never take it off. Ever."

I stared at it, then back at him. Before I could ask anything, he reached into the portal again and retrieved a sleek pair of glasses.

"These will allow you to detect danger around you—whether it's from a monster, an animal, or a human," he explained. "As you already know, anyone who awakens is required to register their ability. Unregistered awakeners are immediately flagged by the surveillance technology of your time. So, if you want to live a normal life, you don't really have a choice—you have to register."

He paused, then added firmly, "But like I said, you can't expose your true ability. At least, not yet."

He handed me the glasses. "Wear these and register your ability under the name Echoes of Tamas. 'Tamas' means darkness. You can describe it as an ability that allows you to hear the darkness within a soul."

I looked at him skeptically, and he raised a hand.

"Don't worry," he continued, "you're not going to tell people you can hear their secrets. That'll only make them fear and resent you. Instead, say it lets you sense only the darkness of harmful intent—danger directed toward you."

He gave me a measured look. "You'll be seen as a support-class awakener. A side character. But that's how you'll survive. You'll slowly gain others trust. Level up. And you'll be overlooked—until you're ready."

Then, with a smirk, he added, "And let's be honest. You're incredibly weak right now. Aside from your Consciousness stat, the rest of your stats are absolute trash."

I winced. He wasn't wrong.

"Still," he said, "even if people treat you like a porter, awakeners will keep you around. That danger-sensing skill will earn you a spot in parties—and party EXP."

I glanced again at my stats.

Strength: Low.

Speed: Below average.

Endurance: Embarrassing.

Consciousness: ∞

Right. I wasn't exactly leading-man material just yet.

I slid the glasses into my pocket, my heart gaining pace before struggling to calm itself.

"So I stay in the shadows," I muttered. "Wait until I'm ready."

He nodded, his tone turning serious. "And remember—you're not the only version of yourself out there anymore. Time is fragile… and maybe someone, somewhere, wants to keep your power buried. Or worse."

I glanced down at the protective thread tied around my wrist. It felt heavier than it should have—nothing like how it felt when my mother tied one for me all those years ago.

The name Blacksmith echoed softly in my mind—familiar, yet completely unknown. A chill lingered behind the word, as if it had already shaped part of my fate.