Corvian’s POV
I jolted upright from the bed I was lying on, lungs dragging in air as if I had been drowning.
What happened?
I rubbed my eyes and stretched my back slowly. The room around me was unfamiliar. White walls. Clean floors. A faint sterile scent in the air.
Then the memories crashed back.
We were hunting monsters. The dungeon extended. Snow. Elves. Arrows. Park screaming. Blood in the snow. The crystal.
The light.
“Hello Mr. Vale.”
I snapped my head toward the voice.
An elf walked in wearing a white lab coat and holding a clipboard. His silver hair was neatly tied back, his expression neutral and professional, as if nothing extraordinary had occurred.
“You had an injury in your mana core. The system says you overdid your castings. Be careful next time. We do not want this to ruin your Bestowal Ceremony.” He helped me off the bed with steady hands and guided me toward the front desk.
Mana core injury?
System?
My thoughts stumbled over each other.
“He’s being let go early since he needs to attend the bestowal ceremony.” The elf handed my information to the receptionist behind the counter.
“Anyways, son,” he pats my shoulder lightly, “Good luck on your bestowal ceremony. And have a good day.”
Then he walked off without another word.
I stood there for a moment, trying to piece everything together. My body felt normal. No pain. No stiffness. No weakness.
Had it all been a dream?
No. It was too real.
I stepped outside.
Bright sunlight stabbed into my eyes, forcing me to squint. The world looked peaceful. Normal. People walked by casually, talking, laughing, carrying groceries or equipment.
No blood. No snowstorm. No dead bodies.
[You received one notification!]
A robotic female voice echoed clearly in my head.
I froze mid step.
Notification?
I looked around. No one was near me. No one reacted.
Weird. Maybe the mana core injury caused hallucinations.
[Do you want to read the notification?]
The voice came again.
My heartbeat quickened.
Am I going crazy?
I scanned the area once more and then I saw it.
A translucent blue panel hovering directly in front of me, glowing faintly in the sunlight. Words floated across its surface.
How did I miss that?
“I don’t know, but sure?” I muttered instinctively.
A passerby gave me a sharp side glance.
I could not blame her. I was standing in the middle of the street, talking to empty air.
System?
My throat went dry.
“My name is Corvian Vale.”
Wait a second.
Is this like a game?
“Status.”
A blue panel made of shimmering particles materialized in front of me, numbers and text forming cleanly across its surface.
I stared at it in silence.
Level 0.
Rank E.
Stats all at 1.
God damn.
So all this time, I probably had one extra health compared to a normal person? That was my big difference? One point?
Life is brutal.
Still.
I have a skill.
A real skill.
Given by the creator.
My pulse quickened with something dangerously close to excitement.
Reanimate.
I have no idea what it does, but it sounds powerful.
I glanced around. The street was moderately crowded. Probably not the best place to test it.
Then again, when have I ever had ideal conditions?
I pulled out my wooden sword from my belt and held it forward dramatically.
“Reanimate!”
Nothing happened.
No glow. No movement. No surge of power.
Silence.
The same passerby from earlier looked back at me again. This time, her expression shifted from confusion to fear. She increased her pace until she was almost jogging.
A couple further ahead glanced at me and whispered.
I slowly lowered the sword.
Great.
Not only am I the worst mage of my generation.
Now I am also the crazy one who shouts at invisible screens in public.
“Hello and welcome to the—!”
The amplified voice boomed across the massive stone stadium, rattling banners and sending flocks of white birds scattering into the sky. A drum roll thundered from the orchestra pit below the stage, deep and ceremonial. The crowd stirred, then rose into small cheers that rolled like distant waves.
“Bestowal CEREMONY!”
The final word exploded through the amplifier.
The stadium erupted.
Thousands of voices clashed together in applause, chants, whistles, stomps. The sound vibrated through the marble seats and into my bones. For a moment, it felt like the entire Central Region was breathing in unison.
“Okay, okay. Let’s settle down.”
The announcer stepped partially out from his staff room balcony, lifting both hands. His long ceremonial robe shimmered faintly with embroidered runes. The crowd slowly obeyed, though whispers and excitement still buzzed in the air like static.
“As you know, this event was especially held in the Central Region. This means that… we have a special guest who will attend this show. All five monarchs, rulers of each region, are here. Sitting in the front seats, there,” he pointed down toward the grand platform below the stage, “let’s get a round of applause!”
The reaction was immediate and deafening.
Some people stood and bowed deeply. Others chanted the names of their regional monarchs. A few even sang hymns. The five figures seated in the front remained composed, cloaked in authority and mana so dense that even from this distance I could feel its pressure.
Their presence alone made the air heavier.
“Anyways, we all know that we just want to see what we get. Hah, greedy, greedy.”
The crowd booed loudly.
“Ahh, calm down! It was just a joke.”
Laughter rippled through the stadium.
He unrolled a scroll and began reciting the familiar instructions. The same speech as last year. The year before that. Every year.
Grip the crystal firmly.
Focus on the flow.
Allow your mana to circulate naturally.
Do not resist the measurement.
I had heard it all before.
My hands felt slightly damp.
The stage was circular, built from white stone veined with gold. At its center stood the ceremonial crystal pedestal, a tall column with a translucent orb resting on top. Ancient runes rotated slowly within it like drifting constellations.
“And now we begin!”
Names were called.
One by one, hopefuls walked up. Some trembling. Some confident. Some pretending not to care.
“Emily Vanscram.”
A green haired girl rose from her seat and walked nervously onto the stage. The crowd murmured immediately.
The Vanscram family.
I had heard of them too. Famous for crafting top tier equipment. Rumors said they invented a mana stabilizer used by elite adventurers. Whether that was true or not, their reputation alone carried weight.
The old mage guiding the ceremony placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and motioned for her to grip the crystal tightly.
The runes within the orb began to react.
They brightened steadily.
The crowd gasped.
“And this is a pretty bright sign! Maybe a Level 3 or 4 mage!” the announcer yelled into the amplifier.
Applause erupted again.
We were taught that a mage’s power and the statistics related to it can be determined by the level they possess. It ranges from Level 1, the weakest, to Level 10, the rarest of legends. A Level 5 was considered exceptional. A Level 7 could shift regional balance. A Level 9 was practically myth.
Level 10?
Stories.
More names were called.
More cheers.
More disappointment.
Then—
“And Corvian Vale!”
The announcer paused slightly and leaned closer to his scroll.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“Ah yes. The boy who has come to the last two years’ ceremonies.”
Laughter burst out instantly.
It spread like wildfire.
I stood up anyway.
My legs felt heavier than usual as I descended the stadium steps. I kept my gaze forward. Not at the laughing faces. Not at the pointing fingers.
At the lower rows, a few people threw plants and fruits toward me. Most missed. One apple struck the step near my foot and rolled off.
“Give up already!”
“Stop embarrassing yourself!”
“Go home!”
Their voices stabbed harder than any thrown object.
But giving up was never an option.
Not when I had endured this twice already.
Not when something had changed.
I climbed onto the stage.
The old mage placed a hand on my back and smiled faintly, as if he pitied me.
“Good luck.”
I stepped toward the crystal.
My heart pounded violently.
I wrapped both hands around the orb and closed my eyes.
Focus.
Circulate.
Let the mana move.
For a split second, I expected nothing. Like always.
But this time—
Something moved.
A current flowed through me.
Not weak. Not stagnant.
It was faint, but it was real.
It felt as if an unseen force was smoothing the pathways inside my mana core, clearing blockages that had existed for years.
What is this?
I brought nothing unusual with me.
My wallet contained one silver coin and two bronze coins. My wooden blade was strapped to my belt.
And—
My hand subtly slipped into my pocket.
The crystal.
The one from yesterday’s dungeon raid.
The moment my fingers brushed it, heat surged up my arm.
Wait.
That crystal.
The crystal that flew into my chest.
Why do I still have it?
The old mage suddenly leaned closer to inspect the runes.
“—woah, this seems pretty rare!”
The crowd quieted slightly.
I focused fully on the orb in my hands.
The crystal in my pocket pulsed.
I felt it clearly now.
It was extracting mana from my mana core and channeling it into the ceremonial orb. Not draining me painfully, but guiding it. Refining it.
The orb responded.
Golden and blue light seeped outward from the runes, intertwining like threads of dawn and ocean.
The stadium fell into stunned silence.
“This is either a Level 1… or a Level 5 mage!” the announcer screamed into the amplifier.
A ripple of shock passed through the crowd.
Level 1 meant nothing had changed.
Level 5 meant everything had.
The bestowal ceremony only measured an approximation. The precise reading would be calculated afterward and entered into the mage database. That data determined invitations, clan recruitment, resource allocation.
If I was Level 5—
My throat tightened.
The old mage stepped closer to me, eyes wide but controlled.
He leaned in and spoke quietly so only I could hear.
“We will notify you once the accurate result is processed.”
Then he gently pried my hands from the orb and gestured toward my seat.
The light faded behind me as I stepped off the stage.
Whispers exploded across the stadium.
Some are confused.
Some are skeptical.
Some are angry.
I walked back to my seat slowly, going back down the steps, while having mixed reactions.
As I walked out of the stadium earlier than most, the cheers and chatter fading behind me, I felt something shift in the air.
The ceremony was still ongoing, names still being called, destinies still being decided. But I had already stepped away from mine.
Near one of the grand pillars by the exit stood two figures in official attire. A Warden and a Paragon. Enforcers of regional order. Their armor bore the crest of the Central Region, polished to a mirror shine. They were speaking quietly to each other.
One of them looked at me.
Not casually.
Not curiously.
He stared at me for a second longer than what would be normal. His eyes narrowed slightly, as if trying to measure something unseen.
I forced myself to keep walking.
Do not react. Do not look suspicious.
The reason I left quickly was not embarrassment. It was not fear of the crowd.
It was the blue panel floating directly in front of my vision.
It had appeared again the moment I exited the stadium.
It was not faint this time.
It was clear. Sharp. Real.
[New Quest Received]
The words hovered in front of me as if carved into glass.
It displayed my name. My level. My skill. Nothing new there.
But below that—
[Main Quest: Retrieve the Sword Infernus]
[Time Limit: Ten Hours]
[Failure Penalty: Death]
My throat tightened.
Death.
It was written so plainly. No exaggeration. No metaphor.
Death.
With no clues. No map. No explanation of what Infernus was or where it might be. Just retrieve it.
How?
I searched anyway.
Every street.
Every corner.
Every alleyway.
I checked beneath wooden carts. Inside abandoned crates. Behind merchant stalls. Even inside trash bins, ignoring the stares and insults from passersby.
Nothing.
No sword.
No glowing artifact.
No divine weapon calling my name.
By the time I reached the last street in the district, the sun was sinking low, staining the sky orange and crimson. The bright silver moon slowly claimed its place above the rooftops.
My legs ached. My thoughts were frantic.
Ten hours.
Less now.
“Whatchu doing, son?”
I stiffened.
I turned to see Park walking toward me. The old mage’s usual confident posture was dulled. His right arm rested in a sling, wrapped in a thick cast. His face looked older than it had this morning.
They survived.
Some of them did.
“Oh, hi Park.” I bowed instinctively. “Didn’t know you came here.”
I was standing behind one of the most famous bars in town, near the back door where deliveries and waste were handled. I had just checked the last wooden crate stacked beside the wall.
Empty.
“Ahaha.” Park chuckled lightly at my formality, then his expression turned serious. “Just remember, Corv. You do not want to aggravate those men in black robes with a red circle on the back.”
My heart skipped.
Black robes.
Red circle.
Mugyeol.
Park glanced at his staff and rubbed the polished surface slowly, as if grounding himself in memory.
“You know. I used to be like you. Young. Many opportunities. A possibly good future.”
He exhaled through his nose.
“I worked at this bar. I presume you also do. I knew the customers well. Played cards with some. Helped clean up after fights. It was honest work.”
He looked up at the moon.
“One day, my father came over and asked for a drink. A special one. Pretty expensive.”
He held up one finger.
“One gold coin. I heard it could instantly cure small injuries and tasted smooth as silk. That gold coin was the last money he had.”
I stayed silent.
“Out of nowhere, a drunk mage wearing a black robe with a red circle came over. He took the drink and gulped it down without asking.”
Park’s jaw tightened.
“I yelled at him.”
His grip on his staff hardened.
“He instantly snapped. No hesitation. No warning. He threw an icicle at me.”
Park lifted his shirt slightly.
A massive scar stretched diagonally across his torso. Thick. Jagged. The kind of wound that should have killed someone.
“The Royal Guards measured it as a Level 6 spell,” he said quietly. “Hurt like hell. But that did not compare to what happened next.”
His voice broke.
He started sobbing.
I stepped closer without thinking and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“My dad immediately intervened,” Park continued, struggling to speak. “But he was only a C rank in his prime.”
The silence that followed felt heavier than anything he could have said.
The wind carried distant laughter from the front of the bar.
Life continues.
Unaware.
Park lowered his head.
“That is what those robes represent. Power without restraint. Authority without consequence. If you ever see them. Walk away.”
I swallowed.
The blue panel flickered faintly in my peripheral vision.
Retrieve Infernus.
Failure equals death.
And somewhere in this city, men in black robes with red circles moved freely.
If Infernus belonged to someone like them. Or even worse, to people like the demonic humans.
Then this was not just a quest.
It was definitely a warning.
[A/N: Rank is mostly used as the official like rank of a person while the Level usually describes the power of the spell, and rarely used to describe a mage.]
He sighs and waves me goodbye. “Just remember to stay safe out there. You never know when something bad is gonna happen.”
I nod once.
Bad things are already happening.
I push open the back door of the bar.
Immediately the smell of alcohol hits my nose. Bitter. Fermented. Thick in the air. It mixes with sweat, cheap perfume, and the faint metallic scent of old coins. Normally, it would make me wrinkle my nose.
Now, it feels almost comforting.
Routine.
Familiar.
Predictable.
“Hey kid, you’re late.”
Do-jun stands behind the counter, cleaning a glass cup with one hand, flipping it skillfully with a cloth as if he has done it a thousand times. His sleeves are rolled up. His dark hair tied back loosely.
“Yeah, yeah. I was talking to my dad.”
I keep my expression straight.
That is probably the worst lie I could have chosen.
Do-jun pauses mid wipe and eyes me suspiciously. His gaze lingers, then he shrugs.
“Mm.”
He does not press further.
The door at the front creaks open and a few outlaws walk in, cloaked, armed, laughing too loudly. The type who wears blades openly and dares someone to comment.
Do-jun nods toward an empty table and walks over smoothly, already shifting into his professional tone.
“To be honest,” I mutter under my breath while stacking mugs, “this job pays more than dungeon raids.”
It does.
Adventurers risk their lives for uncertain rewards.
Here, coins exchange hands every night.
But this job is also more unstable.
More unpredictable.
More… human.
Still, I think I understand danger.
I am wrong.
[Warning!]
The blue panel slams into my vision.
[Warning!]
[Warning!]
My breath hitches.
What punishment?
I squint at the floating text. The bar is dim. Only lantern light flickers against wooden beams. Midnight has settled fully outside.
Necessary punishments?
What does that even—
Rumble.
The sound does not come from outside.
It comes from beneath us.
The floor trembles violently. Bottles rattle. Glassware shakes harder and harder until they topple off shelves and shatter into sharp, glittering fragments.
Someone screams.
The rumbling intensifies. The wooden beams groan.
Then—
CRASH.
The ceiling light falls, smashing into the floor and extinguishing the only artificial light source.
The room plunges into darkness.
Moonlight spills in through the windows, casting long silver beams across overturned tables and frozen faces.
The rumbling stops.
But silence is worse.
I tighten my grip around my wooden sword. My knuckles turn white.
I sprint to the back door and lock it.
“Guys?” A regular customer stands from her seat. Her voice trembles.
She is a B rank tanker. I have seen her hold off monsters twice her size. If she looks afraid…
Then whatever is happening is not normal. It must be extremely dangerous.
Do-jun stares out the window.
His expression becomes the same as the customer. His face drains of color.
[Warning! An A-Rank dungeon break has occurred! Clear the monsters who come out within twenty minutes or it will become even stronger.]
The words burn bright blue against the darkness.
A-Rank.
My stomach drops.
D rank dungeons already require coordination.
C rank requires skilled teams.
A rank?
That is a regional emergency level. Mainly because I’ve never participated in such a dangerous event and that no one here locally is strong enough to take down A-rank monsters.
I feel dizzy.
“Yo… Do-jun, are you seeing this?” I point directly at the panel.
He frowns. “Seeing what?”
“The blue—”
He shakes his head slowly.
“Kid, if you are not feeling well, sit down. I will call a healer.”
He cannot see it.
Only me.
The punishment.
This is the punishment.
Before anyone can process further,
CRASH!
The ceiling explodes inward.
Wood splinters. Stone fragments scatter. Dust fills the air.
Something massive tears through the roof and lands inside the bar with a shockwave that knocks several people off their feet.
[And let the dungeon break begin. Time Left: 20:00]
A timer appears.
19:59
19:58
The world does not actually stop.
But it feels like it does.
In the center of the destroyed bar stands a creature.
Tall.
Humanoid in shape but grotesquely distorted. Its skin looks like cracked obsidian. Red fissures glow beneath the surface like molten lava. Two curved horns extend from its skull. Its eyes burn with an eerie golden light.
Mana radiates from it so densely that the air distorts around its body.
The B rank tanker instinctively steps forward and raises her shield.
The monster tilts its head.
Then it moves.
Faster than sight.
It swings one arm.
The tanker is thrown across the room like a ragdoll, smashing through two tables before crashing into the wall.
One hit.
My mind screams.
Run.
But the back door is locked.
The front is blocked by debris.
And outside—
Outside might already be worse.
Screams echo from the street.
Multiple crashes.
More monsters.
This is not isolated.
This is city wide.
My blue panel flickers again.
HP: 101/101
Level 0
Rank: ?
Against an A rank dungeon break.
I swallow.
Infernus.
The sword.
Retrieve Infernus.
Is this connected?
The timer continues counting down.
19:21
The monster’s golden eyes slowly shift.
They lock onto me.
And for the first time in my life, I understand something clearly.
If I do nothing…
I die.
