Akira swung his scythe in wide, fluid arcs—each strike a reflection of five long years of relentless training. His body, lean yet sculpted, glistened with sweat beneath the noonday sun. Every movement was precise, honed by years of discipline.
At last, he brought the scythe to a halt.
Breathing heavily, Akira lowered the weapon and sat down on a massive fallen log, his chest rising and falling with exhaustion and quiet pride.
The once wiry black-haired boy from five years ago was gone. In his place sat a young 1man—ripped, sharp-eyed, and battle-hardened. His frame remained slim by design, yet his strength was undeniable. His eight-pack abs and defined muscles revealed the years of intense physical conditioning, and though his arms and legs weren't bulky, they held power that could break stone. He had purposely trained for speed, not mass, believing that bulk would only weigh him down.
"Speed is strength," he had once said. "If you can't land a hit, all the power in the world means nothing."
Dirt clung to his skin and clothing after the day's final session. He uncorked his gourd, took a long drink of water, and sighed with relief.
A voice of his master rang out behind him.
"You did it, Akira!"
Sora leaned on a nearby tree of the training field, clapping with a wide, proud grin. After spending the past few years in the village—and two of them training beside Akira—he'd become like an uncle.
Akira glanced at him with a faint smile and nodded. "Thanks, Sora. I owe you. You pushed me further than I thought I could go."
But Sora shook his head and stepped forward, placing a firm hand on Akira's shoulder.
"No… thank yourself. I may have been there, but you're the one who endured. The one who chose to never give up. It's not right for me to take all the credit."
Akira was silent for a moment, then smiled wider.
Tomorrow, his journey to Celesta would begin.
Tonight, he would rest, pack his things, and say his farewells. He was no longer the boy who sought power blindly—he had forged himself into a man with purpose, one strike at a time.
Though magic remained an option, he had focused instead on physical mastery. And in doing so, he had surpassed his former limits. His muscles, while not bulky, were dense and sharp—shaped for agility and speed over brute strength. When he tensed, they stood out like stone beneath skin.
Covered in dust, battle-worn, and hardened by time, Akira stood.
He raised his voice and called out for the one thing he hadn't used in two years.
"System," he said, voice steady.
_________________________
[LEVEL: 72]
[EXP: 298,560/780,000]
Stats:
Strength: 95,821 Mana: 3,250/3,250
Speed: 632 HP: ∞
Durability: 11,200.
Bonus stats:
Exp bonus: 5%
Strength bonus: 7%
Skills:
- Keen instincts Lvl: 5 (max)
Danger instincts: Lvl: 5 (max)
Mana cost: 0
- Weapon summoning (Light) (30) Lvl: 4 (max)
Mana cost: 50
- Weapon summoning (Heavy) (15) Lvl: 4 (max)
Mana cost: 150
- Blood manipulation Lvl: 3
Mana cost: 100
3 more...
________________________
As Akira wiped the sweat from his brow and packed up the last of his training gear, a curious thought surfaced in his mind. He turned to Sora with a questioning look.
"Hey, Sora... in terms of raw strength—are the warriors in Celesta stronger than me? My strength's nearing a hundred thousand."
Sora chuckled, crossing his arms as he leaned against a nearby post.
"Oh, definitely. Some of them have strength in the millions… even trillions. Maybe more."
Akira blinked, stunned. "Wha—?! Trillions?!" His jaw practically hit the ground. "I thought I was close to reaching the top. I've trained nonstop for five years—am I really still that far behind?"
Sora gave him a sympathetic shrug. "Well, it's not really a fair comparison. You've come far, Akira. But Celesta's on a different scale entirely. To be fair, I've never seen my own exact stats either—can't check others' systems. But I've heard enough to know what kind of monsters live up there."
Akira sat down again, blinking at the ground in disbelief. "Unreal…"
Sora grinned and gave him a playful slap on the shoulder.
"Hey, don't let that get to you. Compared to the average warriors, you're way ahead of the curve. If this were a race, you've already left most people in the dust."
Akira tilted his head slightly, frowning. "Above average…? That's not exactly comforting when you just told me others are a thousand times stronger."
"Heh. You'll understand once you get there," Sora said, letting out a tired breath. "Celesta doesn't just measure power. It's about how you use it."
With a smile, Sora stepped forward and rested both hands on Akira's shoulders, meeting his gaze with quiet pride.
"Trust me, you're ready."
Sora leaned in, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
"Then again, if you do make it big out there… you wouldn't mind, uh… sending a little money back to the village? Y'know, to support the local community… and me?"
Akira squinted. "The hell are you talking about?"
Sora glanced away. "…Gambling stuff."
Akira's expression went flat.
"Are you serious? If I remember correctly, I lent you money. My money. And you blew it all at the gambling den on one stupid card game."
Sora scratched the back of his head, sheepishly grinning.
"Technically, I was funding your training. So really, it was an investment… right?"
"You 'invested' in roulette and rigged dice, Sora."
Akira sighed, shaking his head. "You kept borrowing from me until you were completely broke. And newsflash—you still haven't paid me back."
Before Akira could say more, Sora lunged forward and frantically clamped a hand over his mouth.
"Shhh! You trying to ruin my image here?" he whispered, eyes darting around like people were watching.
Akira's muffled voice replied under the hand, "Relax… there's no one here but us."
Sora's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What if someone's listening? What if they've got… supersonic hearing?"
Akira pried Sora's hand off with a deadpan glare. "That's just you trying to live two lives and failing to keep either one secret. You want people to accept the fake version of you more than the real one."
"Hey! Watch your mouth—my life is perfect, thank you very much!" Sora snapped defensively, puffing his chest.
Akira rolled his eyes. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."
With that, Akira turned and stretched his arms, strolling back toward his house.
"I've got packing to do. Try not to bet the village away while I'm gone."
Sora called after him, grinning. "No promises! But oh well." Sora waved goodbye.
[A day later...]
Akira had finished packing. His essentials were tucked into his backpack, while smaller items—clothing, trinkets, a few keepsakes—were safely stored within his system's limited inventory. Larger gear wouldn't fit, but that didn't matter. He was ready.
Dressed in a black jacket that matched his jeans and a crisp white shirt beneath, Akira looked every bit the man he had become.
But before he could leave, there was one last thing to do.
He walked quietly into the living room, where his father stood motionless, staring at the old family portrait on the wall. A soft beam of morning light fell across it—three smiling faces frozen in time.
"Dad..." Akira said softly.
Labrec turned slightly, quickly wiping at his eyes as though nothing had happened.
"What is it, son?"
Akira hesitated, his voice trembling faintly.
"I don't know... It just feels conflicting. You told me not to go. And yet, here I am—going anyway."
He looked down, guilt gnawing at his resolve. His father's concern hadn't gone unnoticed. Deep down, Akira could feel it—that fear that he might never return.
Labrec took a slow breath, eyes still fixed on the portrait before finally turning to face his son.
"I can't really argue with my son's wishes, can I?" he said, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "Your mother once told me… parenting is hard. Worry never leaves, no matter how old your children become."
He stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Akira's shoulder.
"Change isn't something you can fight. We raise you knowing one day you'll leave. That doesn't make it easier. But… Akira, whatever you choose to be, whoever you become—it's precious to us. You're our son. That never changes."
Akira looked up at him, eyes glistening.
Labrec gave him a firm nod, his voice quiet but resolute.
"Promise me, Akira. Always move forward… and don't look back."
Akira's worries began to ease, swept away by the warmth of his father's words. The doubt that had clung to him began to loosen.
Then he felt a gentle embrace from behind.
"He's right, you know?" his mother whispered, her arms wrapping around him in a soft, familiar hold.
Her presence alone was enough to make his chest tighten.
"Your father always hated the city folk more than my constant nagging—and look at him now." She gave a playful wink toward Labrec, her voice trembling with affection.
Labrec chuckled quietly, eyes downcast.
She rested her head on Akira's back.
"What lies ahead is a path only you can walk. We can't hold your hand anymore. But as your mother… seeing the loud, stubborn little boy I once raised now standing as a man—" Her voice cracked as tears slipped down her cheeks. "It's the greatest gift a parent could ask for."
Akira felt her tears soak into his back—and his own soon followed, dripping silently to the wooden floor.
"No matter where you go… no matter what you become…" she continued, her voice now barely more than a whisper, "this place will always be your home. So promise me—come back. Even if you're out there busy saving people and saving the world… don't forget us. Don't forget our love."
Akira gently turned and wrapped his arms around her, holding both his parents close.
"I promise."
Because Akira was the only one bound for Celesta, the entire village gathered at the gate to see him off. Friends, neighbors, and family stood side by side, their voices filled with cheer—but their eyes, quietly misted with tears.
"Take care out there, son!" Labrec called out as he pulled his son into a firm embrace. The strong man who had rarely shown vulnerability now openly cried, tears of pride and sorrow running down his cheeks.
Akira hugged him back tightly.
His mother followed next, wrapping him in a warm, tearful hug. Her voice shook with emotion as she whispered blessings and prayers into his ear, and behind her, villagers joined in—offering cheers, flowers, charms, and food for the road.
Among them stood Julia.
Akira approached her, hopeful. "Are you really not coming with me, Julia?"
She smiled softly, but her eyes held a quiet weight. "No thanks… I'll stay with my family. Besides, Celesta's not for me. Too many dangers, too many unknowns."
Though she had recovered from her trauma, the stories she'd heard—tales from her grandfather about monsters, corruption, and chaos lurking behind the city's polished name—still haunted her.
"They say it's the safest city," Akira muttered, uncertain. "But with all I've heard, I don't really know what to believe."
"Then find out for yourself," Julia said gently. "That's your strength. Just… come back safe."
Then Sora stepped forward, grinning with mischief and sincerity alike.
"You're not coming too, Sora?"
"Nah, I'm staying too. Thanks to you, I've got a home now—this village. I'll keep an eye on things here, play guardian angel, y'know?" He leaned in and whispered, "And hey… don't forget our deal."
Akira smirked, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, yeah."
He turned to face the crowd.
"Gotta go now. You all take care, alright?"
The villagers erupted into cheers and waves, shouting encouragements and blessings as Akira stepped past the gates, his cloak fluttering behind him in the wind. He didn't look back.
As the dust from his departure slowly settled, Labrec stood silently with his arm wrapped around his wife's waist.
"Honey… are you afraid?" she asked softly.
He nodded. "Always, hun. But whatever happens to Akira—whether he wins, fails, or gets lost in that vast world out there—we'll always be his parents. We'll always be here for him."
They stood together, watching the horizon.
Their son's journey had just begun.
[2 days later...]
Akira's journey had taken him across winding trails, dense forests, and jagged mountain paths. What was supposed to be a two-day trip turned into a chaotic, itchy, stinging, sweat-drenched trial of endurance.
He had packed four sets of clothes.
He arrived with one.
Between muddy river crossings, unexpected rain, and one very determined squirrel with a taste for fabric, Akira had to cycle through his gear far faster than anticipated. The forest was far wilder than he expected, and the path—if one could even call it that—forked too often for his liking. Every time he came to a split trail, it was a gamble. He lost. Repeatedly.
Bitten by unfamiliar bugs, scratched by brambles, chased by territorial animals—he endured it all. The most annoying part? A single bee sting that for mere moments, its venomous sting left a painful feeling that couldn't be swayed away.
"That thing was a flying demon…" he muttered to himself.
Thankfully, his healing ability had kicked in, healing all the bites, bruises, and bee-related trauma.
At long last, after countless misadventures and near-losing his sanity to the wild, he pushed past a thicket and stood atop a grassy ridge.
And there it was.
Celesta.
A vast city of towering spires, glimmering walls, and bustling streets stretching into the horizon. It shimmered in the afternoon sun, almost ethereal in its beauty. From a distance, it looked like a beacon of opportunity.
Akira dropped his bag with a heavy sigh of relief.
"Phew… Alright! I made it!" he shouted, arms raised to the sky.
The wind caught his jacket as he grinned toward the city. For all the scratches, bee stings, and ruined clothes—it had been worth it.
Flying cars hummed above like sleek metal birds. People zipped past on enchanted brooms. Wagons rolled beside hovering metros. Massive castles stood shoulder to shoulder with sleek glass skyscrapers. In Celesta, magic and technology danced in harmony—an impossible blend of the fantastical and the futuristic.
Akira had never seen anything like it.
He felt like he'd stepped into a dream—or onto another planet entirely. His village life hadn't prepared him for this. He had only heard of such wonders in stories, passed down by travelers and storytellers. But now, they were real. Towering, spinning, floating, glittering.
His feet carried him toward the main gate, which sat beside a wide, paved highway lined with glowing street signs and animated billboards. The rush of the city swept over him like a wave.
Wide-eyed and smiling, he took everything in—the bustling shops, the vehicle depot where magic and mechanics intertwined, the parks with floating benches, and the noise. So much noise.
But then he saw the prices.
His jaw nearly hit the cobblestone.
"Twenty Gols… for a sandwich?" he muttered, blinking at a food stall.
He reached for his pouch and winced. At best, he could afford one drink and maybe a napkin. The cost of living here was no joke.
Distracted by a sparkling storefront displaying a levitating sword, Akira wasn't watching where he was going—and collided shoulder-first with a passing pedestrian.
"Hey! Watch where you're going!" the man barked, scowling. "Don't you see people walking here?!"
"Ah, sorry!" Akira said quickly, stepping back. He gave an awkward laugh and rubbed the back of his head. "It's my first time here… kinda hard not to get distracted."
The man sneered. "Hmph. A first-timer, huh? So you're a peasant. Figures. Go back to whatever mud-hut you crawled out of, weirdo."
And with that, the man shoved past him and disappeared into the crowd.
Akira stood there for a moment, stunned—not by the insult, but by how fast the magic of the moment had been overshadowed by the coldness of reality.
The crowd around Akira buzzed with murmurs and sidelong glances. Though most faces blurred in motion, the stinging words lingered—echoes of judgment, dismissal, and unwelcome.
He shook his head and brushed the dust from his jacket a bit too roughly.
"Sheesh… talk about attitude," he muttered, forcing a half-smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Father was right…"
For all its wonders, Celesta was far from the warm village he'd left behind.
Still, he wasn't here to win approval.
With a steadying breath, Akira straightened his posture and pushed forward through the bustling street, eyes sharp with renewed purpose.
"Alright. First things first—the warrior registration exam."
The examination grounds were nothing short of magnificent—a sprawling gladiator arena buzzing with energy. Stone pillars rose high into the sky, etched with runes that shimmered faintly. Hundreds of would-be warriors filled the space, each sizing up the competition.
Akira signed the registration form with a steady hand, then stepped aside to wait. He glanced around one last time before wandering back outside, needing a break from the crowd.
The streets were just as noisy, if not more so.
"I wonder if 2,500 Gols can last me a week..." he muttered, pulling out his slim wallet and eyeing the contents grimly. Judging by the prices he'd seen at the shops earlier, it probably wouldn't even get him past a few decent meals. With a tired sigh, he made a mental note to find the cheapest inn in Celesta.
Just then—his Danger Sense alerted him.
A cold spike of warning shot down his spine.
Without hesitation, Akira sprinted toward the source, weaving between buildings and slipping into a dark alley.
There, two people lay collapsed against the wall. Their bodies were pale, their eyes hollow—and their mana signatures were gone. Completely drained.
Akira stepped forward cautiously. "What the hell happened here…?"
A wet sound slithered behind him.
Schlick.
His eyes widened.
—Danger!
He spun around just in time to see a mass of slimy black tendrils launching toward him. His scythe materialized in his hands in a flash of light, and with a swift arc, he sliced through the tentacles while leaping back.
"Who's there?!" he growled, crouched low, scythe in front of him.
A deep, guttural voice echoed through the shadows.
"Nice move."
From the darkness slithered a monster—not the kind Akira had seen before. It had the form of a slime, yes, but it was far more grotesque. Its body pulsed and undulated with hungry energy, and its "skin" was semi-transparent, revealing faintly glowing cores inside. Akira could feel its insatiable thirst.
'This isn't like the slime I fought in the woods…' he thought, sweat beading on his brow.
The creature screeched.
"GIVE. ME. FOOOOD!"
It lunged again, this time more aggressively—tentacles whipping like whips of tar. Akira ducked, sidestepped, and slashed in a rapid flurry. His scythe cut through the creature's form, severing it into several pieces.
But it didn't die.
The fragments oozed back together like thick glue, reforming as if nothing had happened.
"GAH, you're annoying!" Akira snarled, bracing himself.
Then, suddenly, the monster paused. Its core pulsed, and it twisted its head toward the alley's edge.
It had sensed something.
Someone with higher mana.
"BWAHAHAHA! SEE YOU LATER, BRAT!"
The monster's laughter echoed as it abruptly shifted direction, slithering toward someone else.
"I SENSED A DELICIOUS MANA COMING FROM YOU!" it shrieked, its tentacles writhing with hunger.
At the end of the alley stood a lone man—tall, long-haired, and seemingly indifferent to the creature's approach.
"No, wait!" Akira shouted, breaking into a sprint. He lunged forward, but it was too late.
The creature was nearly upon the man.
"HAHAHAHA! THANKS FOR THE FO—"
But before it could make contact, the stranger exhaled slowly.
A shimmering frost danced from his breath.
In an instant, the monster was flash-frozen—encased in crystal-clear ice. Its body locked mid-lunge, tendrils frozen in a grotesque snarl.
"Guh—?" the slime gurgled in disbelief, unable to move.
The long-haired man stepped forward, his expression unreadable.
"How revolting," he muttered coldly.
With a single touch, the ice cracked—and then shattered. The monster was reduced to shards of ice and flesh, scattered like snowflakes on the wind.
Akira skidded to a halt, eyes wide. (He… he killed it in one move...)
The man turned sharply toward Akira and pointed with authority.
"You!" he barked. "You're supposed to be in the exam. Don't waste your life trying to play hero out here—you'll get yourself killed."
His eyes narrowed.
"There have been casualties lately. This alley's been marked. You shouldn't be here. Now go—back to the field."
His voice left no room for argument.
"Yes, sir!" Akira quickly bowed and turned on his heel, racing back toward the examination grounds.
As he entered the arena, loudspeakers echoed across the coliseum.
"Future warriors of Celesta! Thank you for your courage and commitment. This test will determine not only your eligibility for a warrior's license but also your initial ranking within the warrior division."
"Remember—if you have questions, speak to a proctor."
Akira caught his breath, heart still racing from what he'd witnessed.
The monsters in the city were unlike anything he'd faced before.
And so were its people.
The crowd of examinees hushed as one of the head examiners stepped forward, his voice echoing across the arena.
"Very well. I'll now explain the rules—and what exactly awaits you beyond that portal. First, the do's and don'ts."
A shimmering holo-screen flickered to life above him, projecting a clean, glowing list:
Do's
1. You may form teams with other examinees.
2. You are allowed to bring your personal weapons.
3. Healing items and stat-boosting gear are permitted.
Don'ts
1. Do not sabotage other examinees.
2. Do not use offensive magic against other examinees (healing and buffs are allowed).
"Now," the examiner continued, "about what's inside."
He gestured toward a massive glowing portal that pulsed ominously behind him.
"Beyond this gate, you will be tested on both survival and combat capabilities. For the next three days, you'll be trapped inside a simulated realm composed of three biomes, which change daily:
The Desert
The Forest
The Snowy Land."
A murmur of concern ran through the crowd.
"Each day, the environment changes. Alongside the ever-present threat of wild monsters, you'll face one boss every three hours. These bosses are—"
Another holo-panel appeared, showing animated depictions of the monsters:
- Scorpion King (Desert)
- Snake King (Forest)
- Dragon (Snowy Land)
"You'll be hunted, tested, and pushed to your limits. You can survive without engaging—just make it to the end alive. But remember, performance impacts ranking. Those who stand out may earn prestigious warrior titles or perhaps even becoming a trustworthy candidate for the next selection of newbie pickups."
The examiner raised a hand.
"As for food—fear not. We'll summon edible wildlife such as boars, birds, and other game animals. Resourcefulness is part of the challenge. You'll be scored on more than brute strength."
He smiled grimly.
"Above all… don't die. That concludes the briefing. Best of luck."
He gave a short bow as the crowd processed what they'd just heard.
A pause.
Akira blinked.
"…Wait, what?"
His voice broke the silence, and several other examinees began to whisper nervously.
"Don't die…?"
Confused murmurs rippled through the crowd of examinees. The examiners' casual warning felt less like guidance—and more like a threat.
Were they being literal?
Before anyone could ask, the massive portal at the center of the arena flared to life with a blinding glow.
"To the gate! Move out!" one of the examiners called out.
A surge of adrenaline swept through the group. Akira followed the crowd into the light, heart pounding.
In the blink of an eye, he was somewhere else.
"What the—?"
Akira stumbled forward, steadying himself on the uneven sand. The landscape had changed entirely. The sun beat down from a scorching sky. Rolling dunes stretched endlessly in all directions.
A desert.
Then, above him, a glowing screen appeared in the air:
1,000 / 1,000
"Huh...? What does that mean?"
Before he could finish the thought, a new message flickered across the sky:
Stage One Begins In...
3...
2...
1...
START!
The ground shook violently.
Bursts of sand exploded into the air as creatures clawed their way out from beneath the earth. Akira barely had time to leap backward before a massive figure surged from the sand before him.
A colossal scorpion.
Its tail arched high into the air, glistening with venom. Its massive pincers slammed together with a deafening snap, lunging toward Akira.
He summoned his scythe with a flash of light and grit his teeth, bracing himself—
But before the blow could land—
[INFINIX SLASH]
A blur shot through the air.
In an instant, the scorpion's pincer was gone, sliced clean from its body. The severed limb crashed into the sand beside Akira with an earth-shaking thud, kicking up a dense cloud of dust.
Akira shielded his eyes.
Out of the haze, a lone figure emerged—tall, calm, and cloaked in a dark coat that fluttered in the desert wind. A faint blue glow traced the edge of his blade.
His eyes, sharp and focused, locked onto the scorpion with disdain.
He hadn't saved Akira by accident.
He'd been hunting.
The figure stepped forward, blade still humming faintly with lingering energy.
"You should leave," he said coolly, eyes scanning the desert. "This isn't a place for reckless kids trying to act tough. You'll just get hurt."
Akira bristled.
"Huh? I can handle this just fine. I don't need your help."
The stranger raised a brow, then chuckled under his breath.
"Wow. I save your life, and this is what I get? No thank you? No 'you're amazing, mysterious desert hero'?"
He laughed lightly, more amused than insulted. "What a miserable guy."
Akira scowled.
"Miserable? Who're you calling miserable? I'm not thanking you for stepping in! I had it under control!"
Deep down, though, it stung—he had been caught off guard. Even if he couldn't die, being rescued by some smug stranger bruised his pride.
The wind shifted, and the last of the dust cleared.
The swordsman's face came into view—a young man, maybe Akira's age. Black hair, short and tousled. A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as he tilted his head.
"Hahaha. Relax. I'm just messing with you."
He extended a gloved hand, still smiling.
"Your reaction cracked me up. Nice to meet you, oddball."
Akira blinked, staring at the offered hand.
"Oddball?"
He wasn't sure if he was angry… or intrigued.