Chapter 1: Status Screen
1413 Words
The examiner's voice cut through the silence like a blade.
"Kael Ashford. Level 1. Class: None."
A murmur rippled through the crowd of candidates gathered in the courtyard of the Hunter Academy. Kael stood at the center of the examination platform, his Status Screen hovering in blue light for everyone to see. Strength 8. Agility 9. Vitality 7. Three numbers that told the world he was weak.
"Pathetic." The voice came from the front row. Caelen Dravon leaned against a pillar, arms crossed, his Storm Blade class badge gleaming on his chest. Level 22. Rare class. Son of Torvin Steelhart, the guildmaster of the Iron Vanguard. He didn't bother lowering his voice. "Third time failing, orphan. Maybe take the hint."
Kael didn't look at him. He kept his eyes on the examiner — a weathered woman in her fifties with the calm, tired expression of someone who'd seen too many hopefuls crumble.
"Your physical stats are well below the minimum threshold," the examiner said. "The standard requires at least 10 in each."
"I know," Kael said.
"However." She paused, her eyes narrowing at the bottom of his screen. "Your Perception and Luck are unusual. PER 15 and LUK 20 at Level 1 with no class. I've never seen numbers like that in a beginner."
"They're useless," Caelen called out. "What's Luck going to do? Make monsters trip and fall?"
A few candidates laughed. Kael's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. He'd learned long ago that words didn't win arguments. Results did. The problem was, he had none to show.
He was twenty-two. An orphan from the lower districts of Aethermere, one of the fortified cities that had sprung up after the Sundering three years ago. He'd grown up in a cramped dormitory with thirty other children who had no parents, no money, and no future — unless they awakened a useful System ability and became Hunters.
Kael had awakened at nineteen — late, by most standards. His Status Screen had appeared one morning while he was hauling crates in the merchant district. He'd stared at his stats with a mix of hope and dread. Below average in everything that mattered for combat. Above average only in Perception and Luck — stats no one took seriously.
He'd applied to the Hunter Academy twice before. Both times, the physical exam had eliminated him. With a VIT of 7, a single swipe from a goblin could put him in the infirmary for a week.
This was his third and final attempt. Academy rules allowed three tries. After that, you were blacklisted.
"There is one option," the examiner said. She consulted a clipboard — real paper, not a System interface. "The Academy has approved a provisional trial for candidates who show anomalous stat distributions. A supervised F-rank dungeon run. The Goblin Cavern in the **** - Shattered Expanse. Clear it, and you're admitted on probation."
"And if I fail?"
"Then this is the end of your path as a Hunter."
Kael looked at his Status Screen. STR 8. AGI 9. VIT 7. Numbers that said he should give up. But PER 15. LUK 20. Numbers that even the examiner had called unusual. He'd spent three years wondering what they meant.
"I accept," he said.
The staging area for the Goblin Cavern was a muddy clearing in the Shattered Expanse, an hour's march north of Aethermere. The land had once been farmland. Now it was a wasteland of twisted earth and crystallized mana, the ground split by rifts that pulsed with blue light.
Kael stood with four other provisional candidates near the dungeon entrance — a jagged tear in a hillside, framed by dark stone that seemed to absorb the light. A cold wind breathed out from the gap, carrying the smell of damp earth and something alive.
Their supervisor, a middle-aged Hunter in battered armor, addressed the group. "F-rank dungeon. Goblin Cavern. Low-level monsters, one boss room. You should handle it if you don't do anything stupid." He paused. "But F-rank doesn't mean safe. Death in a dungeon is permanent. No respawn. No second chance. Clear?"
The group nodded.
"Two hours. Clear the boss, you're in. Fail, you go home."
The inside of the Cavern was dark, damp, and smelled of rot. The team moved cautiously through the first corridor. Kael was at the back — the weakest, everyone knew it. Ahead walked two fighters, a girl with a basic fire spell, and a nervous boy who kept glancing over his shoulder.
"Trap," Kael said.
The team froze. The lead fighter — a tall boy named Brennan — turned. "What?"
"Three steps ahead. The floor is lighter. There's a pressure plate."
Brennan squinted. "I don't see anything."
"Trust me."
Something in Kael's voice made Brennan hesitate. He picked up a loose stone and tossed it onto the spot Kael indicated.
Click.
A volley of stone spikes shot from the walls, cracking the rock on the opposite side. If anyone had been standing there, they'd have been skewered.
"Nice call," Brennan muttered.
They continued deeper. Kael's PER kept finding things the others missed — a tripwire in the shadows, a section of ceiling about to collapse, a goblin scout lurking around a corner. Each time, he called it out. Each time, the team survived because of it.
The fire spell girl — a redhead named Mira — fell into step beside him. "How are you seeing all this?"
"I don't know. I just notice things."
They reached the boss room after forty minutes. A larger chamber, lit by bioluminescent fungi. In the center sat a goblin twice the size of the others — the Cavern Chief, clutching a crude iron club. Kael's Appraisal skill read it as Level 3, moderate threat.
The fight was messy. Brennan charged in first, taking a hit that sent him sprawling. Mira's fire spell singed the goblin's arm but didn't stop it. The nervous boy froze entirely.
Kael hung back. His STR was too low to deal damage. But his PER told him something the others couldn't see.
The goblin had a limp. Its left leg was weaker — an old injury. And every time it swung its club, it overextended to the right, leaving its left side exposed for exactly one second.
"Brennan!" Kael shouted. "Hit its left leg when it swings! It's injured!"
Brennan didn't question it. The next time the Cavern Chief swung, Brennan dove left and drove his sword into the goblin's knee.
The creature screamed. Its leg buckled. It stumbled, exposing its back.
Mira hit it with everything she had. Fire caught the goblin across the spine. It collapsed, twitched, and went still.
The System notification appeared in Kael's vision — dungeon cleared, A-rating, 800 EXP gained. Two level-ups washed through him, a warm surge that tightened his muscles and sharpened his senses. He was Level 3 now.
The supervisor met them at the exit. He examined the notification, then looked at Kael.
"A-rating on your first clear. And you didn't swing a weapon once."
"I told them where to hit," Kael said.
The supervisor studied him for a long moment. Then nodded.
"Report to the Academy tomorrow morning. You're in."
That night, Kael sat on the roof of the orphanage, looking out over the lights of Aethermere. He opened his Status Screen. Level 3. He'd put all 10 free stat points into PER and LUK. Five each. Now PER 20 and LUK 25.
He didn't know why he kept investing in stats everyone told him were useless. Something in his gut told him they mattered. Something that sounded, if he was honest, like the voice he'd heard in the dungeon — the one he hadn't told anyone about.
A whisper, just at the edge of hearing, when the Cavern Chief had fallen:
"The Void remembers."
Kael stared at the locked skill on his Status Screen. The question marks that had been there since the day he awakened, refusing to reveal themselves. Whatever was hiding behind them would change everything.
He just didn't know how yet.
Below him, Aethermere hummed with life — hunters in taverns, merchants closing shops, children running through narrow streets. A city that had survived the end of the world and rebuilt itself.
Tomorrow, he'd start at the Academy. Tomorrow, he'd begin the climb from Level 3 nobody to something more.
His PER told him something was coming — something big, something inevitable.
And his LUK told him he'd survive it.
- Writer
