As the train chugged steadily toward Elarith City, the rhythmic hum of its mana-powered engine filled the air, lulling many passengers into a peaceful daze.
Amon Vale, however, sat by the window, lost in thought, his chin resting on his hand as the scenery blurred past.
Rolling hills, scattered farms, and sleepy villages zipped by outside, but his mind was somewhere else entirely.
He let out a sigh. "It's been a while since I actually looked at it."
With a flick of focus and a quiet murmur, he muttered, "Status."
A faint shimmer of light appeared in front of him, forming a translucent window that was invisible to everyone else.
---
[Status Window]
Name: Amon Vale
Age: 17
Rank: Awakened
Class: Death Bearer
Elements: Shadow, Darkness
Mana: 50
Strength: 16
Agility: 21
Speed: 24
Endurance: 10
Skills: (None)
Spells: [Gloom Orb], [Shadow Clutch]
---
"Wow," Amon muttered, deadpan. "So underwhelming it hurts."
He leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, staring at the flickering screen.
"Talk about a scam. 'Death Bearer'? I thought I'd hit the jackpot when I first saw that title. I was ready to walk around in black robes, summon skeletons, throw scythes made of shadows, maybe even get a cool undead pet or something."
He sighed again.
"But nooo. Turns out the only thing I'm bearing is disappointment."
Classes were a big deal in this world. When someone became Awakened—the first and most basic stage of power—they often had a chance of receiving a class.
Not everyone received one, but those who did had the potential for unique growth. Classes dictated the kinds of skills a person could learn, the roles they were suited for in battle, and, more importantly, the kind of future they could build.
Most importantly, they could awaken new special abilities related to their class.
Amon was either lucky or unlucky enough to awaken both a class and two elements: Shadow and Darkness.
Which sounded pretty cool on paper… but not when one had practically zero natural talent for anything.
"Yeah, yeah, I get it," he muttered sarcastically to himself. "Maybe if I'd been born into a noble house, had five private tutors, and spent my childhood training in a magic tower, I'd be throwing Void Spears by now. But nope. Born broke. Raised poorer. Self-taught through sheer suffering."
Well, he knew there were still commoners who, despite having no mentor or master, became incredibly strong simply because they were talented.
So he had no excuses.
His stats weren't exactly impressive either. He'd been training for nearly two years, and all he had to show for it was slightly above-average speed and agility.
His strength and endurance? Still pathetic. And don't even get him started on his mana control.
"Two spells," he mumbled, glaring at the status window. "Two. In two years. And one of them is just a spooky ball of gloom."
[Gloom Orb] was basically a floating blob of dark energy that could mildly disorient someone if it hit them correctly. It also caused minor injuries when it exploded upon impact. Great for mood lighting, but not so great in actual combat.
[Shadow Clutch] was a bit better. It could create a shadowy hand that grabbed someone's ankle or wrist for a few seconds. Useful in a street fight, maybe. Against a monster or another mage? Probably useless.
Still, he had to remind himself that he was at least better off than the truly unfortunate.
Awakening wasn't guaranteed. About 80 to 90% of people managed to become Awakened, usually around the age of fifteen, by undergoing the ritual at the Temple of the Goddess of Light.
It was a sacred ceremony aided by an artifact called the "Awakening Crystal." The crystal infused a candidate with a powerful surge of mana, kickstarting their connection to magic.
The dormant mana inside the human body became active and began to flow.
Those who succeeded could manipulate mana, learn spells, and potentially grow stronger through training.
Those who failed… well, they remained Mundane. Just ordinary humans, stuck in a world of magic with no power to defend themselves.
Amon, at least, had managed to Awaken. And more than that, he'd received a class—even if it was one no one could explain.
'Death Bearer,' he thought again. "What does that even mean?"
The priests at the Awakening ritual hadn't known. No record of such a class existed in the public archives.
It wasn't mentioned in any of the books he'd read. When he first received it, he'd assumed he'd awaken death-related powers. Something cool. Something legendary.
Of course, most people didn't disclose their classes to anyone, not even priests. Nor did priests bother asking everyone about theirs. But Amon, being Amon, had still asked the priest about his class and received no answers.
But here he was, sitting on a train with a suitcase full of cheap clothes, barely able to use beginner-level magic, and on his way to Arcadia Academy, a place filled with prodigies, monsters, and future warlords.
"I'm gonna die, aren't I?" he muttered, flopping back in his seat with a groan.
Well, that didn't matter. He would try his best to survive.
He closed the status window with a blink and glanced out the window. The view had changed. The landscape was now dotted with small towns and outposts, a sign that they were nearing the outskirts of Elarith.
He checked the station sign as they passed one.
"Only one more stop… probably another hour," he guessed.
His thoughts drifted again, returning to his journey so far and everything that lay ahead.
When he first became Awakened, he'd been thrilled. But the world didn't hand out blessings freely.
He had no teacher, no mentor, and no noble bloodline. He'd done his best, reading stolen spellbooks, experimenting with mana flow late at night in the tavern storeroom, and meditating in alleyways.
Having read so many novels and watched so much anime, he did have a few ideas about how to grow stronger.
Like, perhaps, he needed to kill something—or someone.
Well, he couldn't do that, though.
'I did kill some people before becoming Awakened, though,' he remembered, but quickly dismissed the thought.
After starting to work for Mr. Ellias, he hadn't tried to live such a dangerous life anymore, so he'd never had another chance to kill a person.
He'd worked and trained quite hard while doing his part-time job. There were days when his head pounded from overusing mana.
There were nights when he'd lie in bed, thinking about how far behind he was.
And even with all that effort, the best he'd achieved was learning two weak spells.
But then… there was that night at the tavern. That drunk woman. That golden ticket.
Some people trained their whole lives to get into Arcadia Academy. Nobles bribed their way in. Some people fought over recommendation letters.
And Amon? He got in because he'd helped a drunken powerhouse get to her car.
"I think my luck is becoming far more powerful now," he joked aloud.
Still… a chance was a chance. Even if he was the weakest student there, he'd still graduate with a credential powerful enough to change his life.
Civil service jobs, research opportunities, adventuring licenses—doors that had been sealed shut to commoners like him would finally swing wide open.
He just had to survive the experience.
"I guess I'll finally get the chance to see what this 'Death Bearer' thing actually does. Maybe it's just waiting to unlock something once I've… you know… done something morbid."
He paused.
"Please don't let it involve corpse-eating."
Outside the window, the trees were thinning. Large stone walls came into view, rising high against the skyline. Mana lamps glowed along the railway, while guard towers watched silently over the passing train.
Elarith City.
The neutral city. Home of Arcadia Academy. The center of culture, magic, and power on the continent.
And the place where Amon's life was about to be turned completely upside down.
He sat up straighter, adjusting his shirt collar and trying to look presentable, even though his nerves were doing backflips.
"This is it," he whispered.
His future might be uncertain. His powers might be weak. And his class might be a complete mystery.
But damn it, he was going to give it his all. Even if it killed him.