Klean_writer

They called him trash.
Born without a magic rank in a world where rank defines your worth, Coker was beaten, laughed at, and thrown away. Even the weak had power. But him? He had nothing. No spells. No blessings. No future. Just scars... and silence.

Yet behind that silence, something waited.

A cursed power forgotten by time, sealed by gods, and burning inside him like a scream with no voice. And when the world pushed him too far, that scream became a roar.

They thought he’d die nameless.

Now they’ll kneel before the name they tried to erase.

From broken bones and shattered pride, he’ll rise not to be accepted, but to be feared. He’s not fighting for glory. Not for rank.
He’s fighting because no one else ever fought for him.
This is the story of the boy they called worthless.
And how he became the god they’ll never forget.

FROM TRASH TO GOD

From Trash to God: The Mage With No Rank

It was supposed to be just another hunt. A scouting mission on the edge of the Emberwilds. The kind Coker usually made fun of, calling it "babysitting dirt with a sword." But something about today felt off the moment they crossed the moss-choked gates.

"Are you sure this is even part of the map?" Vann asked, holding the glowing parchment against the dim forest light.

Coker didn't respond. He stood still, staring at the trees—twisted things that looked like they were trying to crawl away from the ground. His eyes, once mocking and sharp, now held a strange stillness.

Rina stepped closer, brushing a strand of her silver hair behind her ear. "Coker. You good?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah… Just feels familiar."

"You've been here before?" Vann asked.

Coker's lips twitched into a smirk. "No. But my blood has."

They didn't know what he meant—and he didn't either. But the cursed seal on his chest had started to burn the second they crossed into these woods. That only happened when one thing was nearby.

They moved through the forest in silence. The trees whispered. Not with wind, but with voices. Echoes. Laughter. And names.

It was like the forest remembered him. Like it was waiting for him to return. Even if he never came here before.

His boots sank into the mud as he walked. Black vines twitched when his aura passed by. Something ancient was stirring.

Suddenly, Vann stopped. He pointed ahead. "Look."

At first, Coker saw nothing. Then a shape moved. Crawling on all fours, eyes glowing red, skin stitched like broken leather.

Rina reached for her blade. Vann readied his staff. Coker? He just smiled.

The demon lunged. Rina moved fast—slicing clean through its arm. But it kept moving. Its body healed midair. Vann blasted it with a wave of ice, but the ice just shattered.

Coker tilted his head. "That's new."

The demon landed hard, snarling, its face stretching like a cracked mask. Then it spoke.

That voice didn't belong to the demon. It was deeper. Hungrier. The same voice from his dreams.

He fell to one knee, clutching his chest. The cursed mark was glowing, burning through his shirt like fire. The seal was speaking to him.

"Let me out. Let me fight. I'll make you strong."

Rina screamed his name. Vann was being dragged by the demon now. Blood soaked the leaves.

Coker gasped. He could feel it. The strength. The fear. The bloodlust.

The moment he whispered that, the ground cracked. Shadows poured from his feet. His eyes turned pitch black with a red ring glowing like a sun of rage.

The demon barely had time to turn before its head was torn from its body.

Coker stood behind it, blood dripping from his hand. He didn't even use a weapon.

Vann stared in shock. Rina trembled.

Coker turned to them, his smile wide, but his eyes empty. "Still think I'm E-Rank?"

And something deeper, something older…

Blood Feels Like Home