Darkness did not claim Adam.
It suspended him.
There was no fire. No pain. No body.
Only awareness.
He expected oblivion.
Instead, he floated in an endless void—without temperature, without time.
Fragments of memory drifted around him.
Flames climbing wood.
Rope cutting into wrists.
Arra's laughter.
Addy's small hands gripping his sleeve.
His father's arm reaching toward the shed.
Lyria screaming his name.
Rage survived even without flesh.
"So this is death," Adam thought.
[Negative.]
The voice unfolded inside his consciousness.
Measured. Ancient. Emotionless.
"Who are you?" Adam demanded.
[System Initialization in progress.][Soul Signature Confirmed.][Ancestral Marker Detected.][White Variant Bloodline Recognized.]
Bloodline.
The void rippled.
[Candidate meets resentment threshold.][Psychological fracture confirmed.][World Transfer Approved.]
"Transfer?"
The darkness shattered.
Visions flooded him—
Vast mountain ranges cutting through clouds.
Forests glowing faintly in unnatural hues.
Cities fortified with stone walls etched in magic.
Guild towers.
Royal banners.
Massive beasts roaming valleys.
Warriors clad in armor radiating elemental power.
Dungeons descending into blackness.
A world structured by visible hierarchy.
"This isn't Earth."
[Correct.]
"How does it work?"
The System answered without delay.
[This world rewards power.][Hierarchy is absolute.][Strength determines survival, authority, and status.]
Letters ignited in silver light.
FEDCBASSSSSS
[All individuals are assigned Rank.][Rank governs guild access, military authority, noble recognition, and territorial claim.][Advancement possible through skill acquisition, dungeon conquest, bloodline awakening, and combat merit.]
Rank was not whispered here.
It was displayed.
Acknowledged.
Enforced.
"What happens to the weak?" Adam asked.
[They serve.][Or they perish.]
No hypocrisy.
No false morality.
Just structure.
A translucent panel formed before him.
Name: Adam LaneAge: 10Race: Human (Variant Lineage)Initial Rank: FCore Attribute: UndeterminedBloodline Status: DormantSystem Compatibility: 97%
F.
Lowest.
Again.
Adam let out a quiet breath.
"My family."
Silence lingered.
"Are they here?"
[Yes.]
His awareness trembled.
"Alive?"
[Reinstated.][Immediate bloodline transferred into Virelith.]
Hope struck him like a blade.
"They're safe?"
[Conditional.]
His voice hardened.
"Explain."
[This world does not guarantee protection.][If you remain weak, probability of repeated elimination event: High.]
The stake flashed in his memory.
"How long?"
[Eight-year survival threshold.]
"Until what?"
[External Convergence Event.]
"And who?"
The answer came clearly.
[Primary Threat Indicator: Elder Varros.]
Silence expanded.
"He's here."
[Yes.]
"Reborn?"
[Transferred.]
"Alone?"
[Negative.][Multiple individuals from origin world present within Virelith.]
House Valmere.
The torchbearers.
The ones who spat.
"They will have ranks."
[Correct.]
"And if he surpasses me?"
[Projected outcome: Bloodline termination.]
Again.
His family could die again.
But not through lies this time.
Through superiority.
Adam's jaw clenched.
"Can I kill him?"
[Yes.]
No warning.
No hesitation.
"And the others?"
[Yes.]
This world did not forbid revenge.
It enabled it—if you were strong enough.
Adam looked down at himself.
He could feel it forming—
The same heavy body.
The same bulk.
"I still start fat," he said flatly.
[Physical composition retained.]
"Why?"
[Growth requires resistance.]
"So I start at F-Rank. Below average. Eight years to surpass him."
[Correct.]
"And if I fail?"
[History repeats.]
No sugarcoating.
The void fractured.
Light tore through.
Gravity slammed into him.
He gasped as cold rain struck his skin.
He lay on damp earth beneath twin moons.
The forest of Virelith stretched endlessly around him.
A translucent interface flickered before his eyes.
Welcome, Adam Lane.
Location: Continent of Virelith.
Initial Survival Phase: Active.
Somewhere in this world—
Arra laughed again.
Anna smiled again.
Addy breathed again.
His mother lived again.
But not permanently.
Never permanently.
Eight years.
Adam slowly rose to his feet.
His body was smaller than eighteen—but still heavy.
Still broad.
Still inconvenient.
Still different.
White hair.
Black eyes.
Different.
His father's words echoed faintly.
"Sometimes different means greater."
This world did not burn the different.
It ranked them.
And Adam would climb.
Not for kindness.
Not for belonging.
For dominance.
For protection.
For revenge.
Kindness had been a death sentence.
Power—
Was survival.
And this world rewarded power.
The translucent window hovered before him.
Rain tapped against leaves.
The forest breathed.
[System Link Stable.]
[Would you like to begin your Ascension Path?]
Adam stared at the words.
Ascension.
Not survival.
Not redemption.
Ascension.
"If I refuse?" he asked.
[You remain F-Rank.]
[No guidance.]
[Probability of failure: 92%.]
Cold numbers.
No emotion.
"If I accept?"
[System will designate Primary and Secondary Quests.]
[Completion rewards Experience Points.]
[Experience may be allocated to Attributes, Skill Acquisition, Technique Development, and Body Enhancement.]
[Choice to pursue quests remains yours.]
"So you won't control me."
[Correct.]
[Autonomy preserved.]
"And I can grow stronger faster if I complete them."
[Affirmative.]
Adam inhaled slowly.
Eight years.
Elder Varros.
His family's survival tied to his growth.
He did not hesitate.
"Yes."
The forest trembled faintly.
[Ascension Path Activated.]
[System Acknowledges Host: Adam Lane.]
[Reinstatement Protocol Initiated.]
Light engulfed him.
The world vanished.
Warmth.
Softness beneath his back.
The faint smell of bread.
Adam's eyes snapped open.
Wooden ceiling beams.
Familiar ones.
He sat up abruptly.
He was in a bed.
Not the forest.
Not rain.
A room he recognized.
Smaller than his eighteen-year-old memory.
He looked at his hands.
Child's hands.
Still heavy.
Still thick.
Still him.
He touched his chest.
Unburned.
He swung his legs off the bed.
Where are they?
Panic surged through him.
Was it a dream?
Was the System lying?
He rushed toward the door and nearly stumbled down the stairs.
Voices drifted upward.
Soft.
Familiar.
Laughter.
He froze halfway down.
No.
His heart pounded violently as he descended the remaining steps.
And then he saw them.
Arra and Anna sat together near the hearth, playing with carved wooden dolls. Their golden hair caught the morning light. They argued softly about whose doll was the queen.
Addy sat at the table in a small wooden chair, tiny fingers clumsily gripping a piece of bread. Crumbs covered his cheeks.
Their father sat beside him, one elbow resting on the table, watching with quiet amusement.
"Slowly," Thomas said gently. "You're not in a race."
Addy grinned and clapped, scattering crumbs everywhere.
On the other side of the table, Elira smiled warmly, brushing flour from her hands.
She looked up.
Her blue eyes met Adam's black ones.
For a brief moment, time stopped.
"Adam?" she said softly. "You're up early."
He couldn't speak.
He just stood there.
Alive.
They were alive.
Addy noticed him and waved a tiny hand. "Big brother!"
Arra and Anna turned.
"Adam!" they chimed together.
His throat closed.
His father looked over and chuckled. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
Adam walked forward slowly.
Each step felt unreal.
His mother approached him first.
She reached out and placed a hand against his cheek.
"You're warm," she said lightly. "Did you have a bad dream?"
Bad dream.
If only.
He swallowed hard.
"Morning," he managed.
His voice was smaller.
Ten years old.
His father smiled. "Come eat before your sisters steal everything."
Elira guided him gently to the table.
She placed bread and stew in front of him.
"Eat while it's hot."
Adam stared at the food.
Then at her.
Then at them all.
He picked up the spoon.
And began eating.
Fast.
Too fast.
Like someone starving.
Like someone who believed this might disappear if he blinked.
Tears blurred his vision.
He did not stop.
His father laughed lightly. "Slow down, Adam. You'll choke."
Elira frowned gently. "Easy, sweetheart."
She placed more food on his plate.
"You're growing. You need it."
Adam kept eating.
His shoulders trembled.
His vision shook.
He did not wipe the tears away.
Because he did not want them to see.
He did not want to explain.
He did not want this moment to break.
For the first time since the fire—
He felt warmth.
Real warmth.
Not memory.
Not illusion.
Real.
His sisters continued arguing.
Addy tried to feed himself again and failed.
His father shook his head.
His mother smiled.
And Adam realized something terrifying.
This was fragile.
Not permanent.
Not protected.
Eight years.
The System flickered faintly in the corner of his vision.
[Primary Quest Unlocked.]
Survive. Grow. Ascend.
Time Remaining: 8 Years.
Adam lowered his spoon slowly.
His black eyes lost their softness.
He would enjoy this morning.
He would memorize this warmth.
But he would never again assume it was safe.
Kindness had cost him once.
Power would protect them now.
He took another bite.
Slower this time.
Because this time—
He understood what he was fighting for.
After breakfast, Adam stepped outside.
The sunlight felt different.
Brighter.
Cleaner.
Virelith did not resemble Briar Hollow at all.
The village—if it could even be called that—was larger, more organized. Roads were paved with fitted stone instead of packed dirt. Houses were structured with timber frames reinforced by carved stone foundations. Roofs were layered neatly, some even decorated with sigils etched into clay tiles.
It was… beautiful.
Structured.
Alive.
People moved with purpose.
Children ran freely.
Virelith was not a simple human village.
It was a crossroads.
The stone streets were broader than anything he remembered, etched faintly with glowing runic lines that pulsed beneath the surface like veins of light.
People moved everywhere.
But not just people.
Knights in polished silver armor strode past, cloaks bearing royal insignias. Their presence carried weight — literal pressure in the air, like power radiating from within their bodies.
A tall figure with long silver hair and pointed ears stood near a potion stall, examining glass vials carefully.
Elf.
His movements were elegant. Controlled. His eyes faintly luminous.
Across the street, another group passed — darker skin, crimson eyes, sharp angular features.
Dark elves.
They spoke quietly among themselves, their cloaks embroidered with sigils Adam didn't recognize.
Two dwarfs argued loudly near the blacksmith's forge, thick braided beards bouncing as they gestured wildly. One slammed a hammer against the counter, demanding stronger metal.
The blacksmith — human — didn't argue.
He negotiated.
A pair of winged figures descended lightly near the guild plaza.
Adam's breath caught.
White-feathered wings folded gracefully behind them.
Angels.
They wore light armor that shimmered faintly in sunlight, halos faint and translucent above their heads.
No one panicked.
No one bowed.
They were rare — but not mythical.
Further down the market road, a woman cloaked in deep violet walked slowly, her fingers tracing the air as faint threads of purple mana followed her movements.
Witch.
Her eyes briefly met Adam's.
He felt something brush against his mind — testing.
Then she smiled faintly and walked on.
Near the training grounds, a broad-shouldered man with furred ears and a tail sparred against two human youths at once.
Beastfolk.
His reflexes were unnatural — faster than sight.
The humans struggled to keep up.
The instructor barked, "Again!"
Adam stood still for a moment.
Earth had hidden its power in shadows.
Virelith displayed it openly.
Races mingled.
Strength was visible.
Measured.
Respected.
The System flickered faintly in his vision.
[Environmental Analysis Complete.]Multiple Racial Factions Detected.]Power Distribution: Uneven.]Survival Probability (F-Rank, Child): Moderate.]
Moderate.
Not low.
Not impossible.
Moderate.
That meant something important.
Even as F-Rank—
He was not completely helpless.
Adam's gaze slowly swept across the guild towers again.
Knights.
Elves.
Dark elves.
Angels.
Witches.
Dwarfs.
Beastfolk.
This world was layered.
Political.
Hierarchical.
Dangerous.
And beautiful.
But beneath that beauty was competition.
Every race here climbed.
Every faction here sought dominance.
And he would rise among all of them.
Not just humans.
Not just villagers.
Among everything.
His black eyes hardened slightly.
Good.
Let the world be vast.
It would only make conquering it more meaningful.
And towering near the center of town stood two stone buildings larger than the rest.
One bore a golden scale symbol carved above its entrance.
The Merchant Guild.
The other displayed a crossed sword and staff.
The Adventurer's Guild.
The System flickered.
[Side Quest Unlocked.]Future Registration: Merchant Guild.Future Registration: Adventurer's Guild.Reward: Experience Points + Skill Access.
Adam narrowed his eyes.
"Can I join both?"
[Yes.]
"No restriction?"
[Dual registration permitted. Strategic advantage recommended.]
He nodded slowly.
Merchant Guild meant money.
Influence.
Trade networks.
Adventurer's Guild meant combat.
Rank growth.
Dungeon access.
Both were paths to power.
And he would take both.
As he continued walking, absorbing the structure of this world, something shifted in his peripheral vision.
A figure.
Familiar.
Too familiar.
White hair.
Long beard.
Deep purple cloak.
A carved wooden staff.
Adam's breathing slowed instantly.
Elder Varros.
He looked almost identical.
But younger.
His hair slightly less thin.
His back straighter.
And around his neck—
Something glimmered.
A necklace.
A red crystal encased in gold.
The gem pulsed faintly.
Magic.
Not decoration.
Power.
Varros was walking down a side alley, speaking quietly with another man.
Adam's stomach tightened.
He adjusted his pace.
Casual.
Controlled.
He followed.
Keeping distance.
The alley opened toward a larger stone building marked by a carved mug symbol.
The Tavern.
Varros stepped inside.
Adam waited a moment.
Then moved closer.
He positioned himself near a side window, partially cracked open.
Inside, Varros sat at a long table.
Five young men surrounded him.
Adam's heart began to pound.
He recognized them.
Not older villagers.
Younger.
Around his age now.
But their faces—
They were there.
In the square.
When the torches were raised.
When Lyria was dragged away.
They were the ones who held her arms.
The ones who tightened the ropes.
The ones who laughed nervously while he burned.
Now they sat beside Varros like loyal followers.
Listening.
Respectful.
Varros' voice carried faintly through the window.
"…the bloodline must not be allowed to mature," he said calmly.
Adam's blood ran cold.
"The White Variant resurfaces only when imbalance grows," Varros continued. "We act before it becomes threat."
The young men nodded.
One asked, "And the convergence?"
Varros' lips curled faintly.
"It approaches. Preparation is essential."
Adam's fists clenched so tightly his nails bit into his palm.
They remember.
They know.
This wasn't random transfer.
It was strategic.
Varros lifted his hand slightly.
The red crystal around his neck shimmered.
The air around him subtly warped.
Power.
Visible.
Controlled.
Adam's vision flickered briefly.
[Target Identified: Varros.]Current Rank: C.
C.
Adam was F.
Three entire tiers below.
At ten years old.
Varros was already C-Rank.
And surrounded by allies.
This was not a slow climb.
This was a race.
Eight years.
Varros laughed lightly at something one of them said.
The same calm, controlled laughter Adam remembered from the stake.
No fear.
No doubt.
Because he believed he was ahead.
Adam stepped back from the window.
His breathing even.
His expression unreadable.
The village bustled around him in blissful ignorance.
But beneath its beauty—
The game had already begun.
Varros was building.
Gathering.
Preparing.
And so would he.
Adam looked toward the Adventurer's Guild.
Then toward the Merchant Guild.
Then back at the tavern.
Kindness had made him blind once.
Power would make him patient.
He would not rush.
He would not reveal himself.
He would grow.
Silently.
Strategically.
And when he reached C-Rank—
He would not burn.
Someone else would.
Adam stepped away from the tavern window.
His pulse was steady now.
He moved toward the entrance.
If he got closer, he might hear more.
Might learn more.
Might understand how far ahead Varros truly was—
A hand grabbed his wrist from behind.
Firm.
Sudden.
Adam's body reacted instantly.
He twisted, ready to strike—
Then stopped.
Pink hair.
Brown eyes.
Wide.
Concerned.
"Adam," Lyria whispered urgently. "You can't go in there."
She looked younger.
Of course she did.
They were children again.
But the worry in her eyes felt familiar.
"That tavern is full of grown men," she said quietly. "You'll cause trouble."
Adam glanced toward the entrance.
The door creaked as someone exited.
He exhaled slowly.
She was right.
Going in now would accomplish nothing.
Varros was C-Rank.
Adam was F.
Recklessness was death.
He nodded.
"Alright."
She blinked, slightly surprised he agreed so easily.
"Come on," she said, gently tugging him away from the tavern. "Let's walk."
They moved through the market together.
Sunlight warmed the stone paths.
Merchants called out their wares.
Children laughed nearby.
The world looked peaceful.
Deceptively so.
"So…" Lyria began, glancing sideways at him. "What do you want to do when we're older?"
Adam answered without hesitation.
"Become strong."
She tilted her head. "That's not a job."
"It is here."
She laughed softly.
"I want to become a Knight," she said, almost shyly. "Wear armor. Protect people."
Adam studied her.
"You would make a good one."
She smiled faintly.
"But my father says I should join the Merchant Guild," she added. "Our family has been traders for generations. He says business is safer."
Adam looked toward the two guild buildings in the distance.
"Do both."
She blinked. "Both?"
"Yes. Register in the Merchant Guild for money and connections. Join the Adventurer's Guild for strength and rank."
"That sounds hard."
"So?"
She frowned slightly. "You're talking strangely today."
He glanced at her.
"How?"
"Like… like an adult," she said slowly. "Like you've already lived a long time."
He went silent.
He had.
He realized then how different he must sound.
Measured.
Strategic.
Cold.
He forced his shoulders to relax slightly.
"I've just been thinking," he said. "About… how this world works."
"And what did you decide?"
He stopped walking.
Looked at the skyline of Virelith.
The guild towers.
The training grounds.
The structured streets.
"I decided," he said calmly, "that I'm going to rule Virelith one day."
She stared at him.
"…What?"
"I'll need power," he continued. "And money. And influence."
She stared longer.
Then her face began turning red.
"You—you can't just say that so confidently!"
"Why not?"
"Because—because that's something villains say!"
Adam smirked faintly.
"Only weak people call ambition villainy."
She opened her mouth to argue.
Then hesitated.
"…You'd need companions for something like that."
"Why?"
"So you're not alone."
He genuinely did not understand the shift in her tone.
"Why is your face red?"
She froze.
"I-it's not!"
She quickly turned away.
"I mean—obviously you can't rule a continent alone! You'd need people who trust you. Stand beside you."
She glanced back at him.
"And I'll get strong too," she said more firmly now. "I'll stand beside you and help you achieve your goal."
For a brief moment—
Something softened in Adam's chest.
Not weakness.
Something steadier.
He nodded.
"Then get stronger."
They walked toward the outer ledge of the village.
The sun began to descend.
Orange light spilled across rooftops.
They sat side by side, watching the sky bleed into crimson.
Wind brushed against their faces.
For a rare moment—
Adam allowed himself to just exist.
No calculations.
No ranks.
No revenge.
Just warmth beside him.
Then the System appeared.
Translucent.
Silent.
[Primary Quest Assigned.]Travel to Ashvile Village.Meet Grandparents.Discover the Truth of Your Bloodline.Reward: Bloodline Activation Path + Experience Points.
Ashvile.
His grandparents.
The origin of the White Variant.
Adam stood.
Lyria looked up. "Where are you going?"
"I have to leave for a while."
Her expression shifted immediately.
"Leave?"
"To Ashvile Village," he said. "My grandparents are there."
"For how long?"
"A while."
She stood too.
"You're not even asking your parents?"
"I will."
Silence lingered.
The sunset deepened.
She lowered her gaze slightly.
"…Don't get hurt."
He almost laughed.
"Getting hurt is part of getting stronger."
She punched his arm lightly.
"Idiot."
He gave her a rare, small smile.
"Take care of yourself."
She nodded.
"And you," she said quietly, "come back stronger."
"I will."
They parted at the edge of the road.
Adam walked home beneath the fading light.
At dinner, he calmly told his parents he wanted to visit Ashvile for some time.
His father looked surprised.
"So suddenly?"
"I want to learn more about our family," Adam replied.
His mother exchanged a glance with Thomas.
After a moment, his father nodded.
"You're old enough to travel the main road. Stay with your grandparents."
His mother smiled gently.
"Bring them our love."
That night, Adam lay awake.
The System faint in the corner of his vision.
Eight years.
Varros already C-Rank.
Bloodline dormant.
Ashvile was the beginning.
At dawn, with a small pack on his back—
Adam Lane left the village.
Not as a kind boy seeking belonging.
But as something else entirely.
And Virelith had no idea what had just begun.