GOD SLAYER

Chapter 4: The Million-Year Echo

The year 1969 was supposed to be the pinnacle of human industry, the moment mankind touched the moon and looked toward the stars. Instead, it was the moment the stars looked back with hungry eyes. The first Gate didn't open with a whisper; it tore through the fabric of the sky over a Pennsylvania steel mill like a jagged, bleeding wound. By 1970, the world was no longer recognizable. Monolithic Towers, standing 50 to 100 floors tall, pierced the crust of every major continent, pulsing with a golden, alien resonance.

When these Towers reached their capacity, they "Breached." This was the Blood Bath of 1970, a year of global s*******r where traditional gunpowder and steel proved useless against entities fueled by Raw Aura. Humanity only survived because the Force—the ancient duality of Light and Dark—triggered the Awakening Protocol.

A man named Trice was the first to pick up a sword and feel the "Refined Mana" stabilize his soul. He proved that monsters could bleed, and from his defiance, the Players were born.

The New Era: One Million Years Later

Fast forward through a million years of grueling evolution. Human technology, fused with System-mana, has reached heights once reserved for the gods. In a sleek, high-tech classroom in the heart of a neon-drenched metropolis, a teacher stands before a holographic display, her voice cutting through the hum of climate-controlled air.

"Remember," she says, gesturing to the glowing icons of the rank system. "Your future is measured in Grade and Rank. From the common Grade 10, Rank G, to the legendary Supreme Grade 1, Rank SSS. But beyond the peak lies the King Grade 1, Rank V—a one-in-a-million rarity that has not been seen in centuries."

She eyes the students, most of whom are checking their expensive mana-bracelets. "In two weeks, you will reach the age of Awakening: 18 for boys, 17 for girls. Your genetic purity and your family's investment in mana-elixirs will dictate your starting line."

"Hear that, orphan?" A sneer breaks the silence. Tom, the class bully and scion of a mid-tier guild family, leans back in his gravity-chair. He looks at Kirito, who sits quietly in the back, dressed in faded, oversized clothes. "A gutter-rat like you won't even wake up a Rank G. You're a 'Zero.' You should just give up now and apply for a janitor position at the Green Grass Guild."

Kirito doesn't look up. He knows Tom is right about the resources. He glances toward the front of the room at Sila, the school beauty. Her parents have nurtured her with high-grade alchemical feasts since she was a toddler. Her skin practically glows with latent mana. Kirito, meanwhile, has nothing but his own grit and the cold, empty feeling in his chest.

The Selection

After school ends, Kirito walks through the bustling streets of the lower district. He passes an alley where Tom and his g**g are shaking down juniors for their daily credits. Kirito keeps his head down, ignoring the taunts. He doesn't have the strength to play hero—not yet.

He retreats to his cramped, one-room apartment in the slums. His only companion, a scruffy dog named Golfer, greets him with a frantic tail-wag. Kirito shares his meager meal of instant noodles with the dog and collapses onto his thin mattress. The weight of a million years of history and the upcoming Awakening feels like a mountain on his chest.

"Just let me be useful," he whispers into the dark. "Just give me enough to protect what's mine."

He falls into a deep, feverish sleep. But while he dreams of hunger and cold, a spark of Soft Cool Darkness and Shining Warm Light enters the room. The Godslayer System, a sentient fragment of the Force that has wandered the dimensions for an eternity, hovers over the boy. It hasn't chosen the "Prodigies" in the mansions or the "Super Novas" in the towers. It has found the one vessel forged in the same silent fury as the ancient Asher.

[Target Found: Host Kirito.]

[Compatibility: 100%.]

[Unique System: 'The Godslayer' is initiating soul-link...]

The Watchers in the Sanctuary

Deep in the hidden sanctuary of Axhelm, the three Keepers stand before the viewing pool. Sibrous adjusts his silver hair, his brow furrowed as he looks at the orphan. "He is physically stunted. His mana veins are almost dormant."

Lira clutches her chest, her eyes soft with pity. "He has suffered so much alone. Will the Red Crimson energy not tear him apart?"

Codos, the one-armed warrior, leans on his massive claymore. A fierce, knowing smile crosses his scarred face. "The boy has survived a world that wanted him dead every single day. His body is weak, but his soul is a fortress. Look at his heart rate—it didn't even spike when the System touched him."

Codos’s eyes flashed "Finally," he whispers. "The King in the Golden Prison thinks he’s won because he’s corrupted the guilds. He has no idea the Force just found its blade."

Back in the slums, a faint, maroon-colored mist begins to seep from Kirito's pores, swirling around him and his dog. The clock in the room ticks past midnight. The Awakening is still two weeks away for the rest of the world, but for Kirito, the tutorial has already begun. The first c***k in the Golden Realm's destiny has appeared.