A hundred years ago, a great calamity fell upon the world, which was later called the Sixth Extinction, bigger and more brutal than the five mass extinction events in human history.
Huge dark portals tore through the sky of every continent, unleashing monstrous beasts into the world as Earth's dimension merged with another called the Gehenna Dimension.
Humanity was caught completely off guard. In just a few short years, sixty percent of the global population was wiped off the face of the planet. Entire countries, cultures, and ways of life vanished almost overnight.
The weapons that humans had been so proud of, missiles, tanks, bombs that could level mountains, could not even leave a dent on these beasts. They regenerated faster than they could be destroyed, laughed at explosions, and tore through armies like they were nothing.
Just as humanity stood on the absolute brink of extinction, something changed. A small part of the surviving population began gaining mysterious abilities called Classes. Ordinary men and women suddenly found they could summon flames from their hands, move with impossible speed, or command shadows to fight for them, they became Dimensional Walkers.
These first Dimensional Walkers stepped into the rifts and fought back. They turned the tide of the war, sealed gates, and slowly pushed the nightmare back. By the time the dust finally settled, the old world was gone forever. What rose in its place was a new era built on the bones of the dead and the power of the Awakened.
The Dimensional Oversight Association was created to make sure the chaos never returned. For a hundred years the system held, and society rebuilt itself behind towering walls and mana barriers.
The continents still carried their old names, but the nations, borders, and cities that once defined them had been redrawn many times over. Now, in 2126, the world lived under the constant shadow of the Dimensional Gates, and the DOA made sure every citizen understood their place in the new order.
Griffin Creed stood near the back of a long line inside the massive DOA Central Hall, waiting for his turn at the mandatory Awakening Ceremony. The building was enormous, all polished stone and reinforced steel designed to feel both impressive and intimidating at the same time.
High vaulted ceilings disappeared into shadow far above, and the walls were covered with large holographic screens showing live feeds from active Dimensional Gates across the continents.
The air carried a faint smell of ozone mixed with the clean scent of polished floors, the kind of sterile atmosphere that made everyone feel small and watched.
Thousands of eighteen-year-olds filled the hall in orderly rows, all dressed in the same plain gray uniforms the DOA issued for the ceremony. Some talked quietly in nervous clusters, others stared straight ahead with tight expressions, and a few tried to look confident even though their hands were shaking slightly.
The line moved slowly, one candidate at a time stepping onto the raised central platform where the Awakening Crystal hovered above a silver pedestal, pulsing with soft white light.
Since The Great Collision, and people began awakening Classes. It was established that every individual reaches the age of eighteen with the potential to awaken a Class. The reason behind this specific age remains a mystery, but official statements suggest that eighteen is simply the optimal time for such an awakening. If one attempts to awaken at a younger or older age, it seems to be impossible.
For the past century, anyone who turns eighteen has had the opportunity to awaken, but not everyone is fortunate enough to do so. Some individuals successfully awaken and become Dimensional Walkers, enjoying the wealth and prestige that come with their new status. In contrast, those who fail to awaken remain civilians, living under the influence of the Dimensional Walkers.
This dynamic has established a new order on Earth: the strong thrive while the weak struggle beneath the harsh realities of this new age.
Griffin kept his hands in his pockets and tried to stay relaxed, though his stomach felt tight. He was eighteen today, average height with short dark hair and the kind of solid build that came from years of helping his uncle move heavy scrap around the lower districts rather than any special training.
His family had no awakened bloodline, no money for private tutors, and no connections inside the guilds. They were just regular people trying to survive in a world that rewarded strength and left everyone else to scrape by.
His mother had hugged him tightly that morning and told him not to worry, that no matter what happened they would figure things out together. His younger sister had punched his shoulder and joked that if he got a lame Class she would still let him carry her books. Griffin had smiled for their sake, but inside he knew the truth.
The Awakening was not kind to people like him. You either walked out with a combat Class that opened doors to the guilds and a decent life, or you got stuck with something useless and spent the rest of your days as a porter hauling monster corpses out of low-grade gates for whatever pay the guilds felt like giving.
He had seen it happen to too many people in their district. He did not want that future for his family.
The line inched forward again. Griffin glanced around at the other candidates, listening to the low murmur of voices that filled the hall. A girl a few spots ahead was whispering to her friend about how her older brother had gotten a strong Flame-related Class last year and was already working steady gate contracts.
Another guy behind him was bragging quietly about how he had trained for months and was sure he would pull at least a decent grade. Griffin kept quiet. He did not have stories like that.
He had spent the last few years helping keep the scrap yard running, coming home tired every night, and trying to make sure his sister had enough to eat. The only thing he could do now was stand here and hope the crystal saw something useful in him.
Anything combat-related would be enough. Even a basic Warrior or Defender Class would let him join a small guild and start earning real money instead of scraping by on porter wages. He told himself the odds did not matter.
He had always found a way to keep going when things got hard. One bad result would not change who he was.
The hall felt warmer the closer he got to the platform.
The Awakening Crystal pulsed steadily, sending soft waves of light across the crowd every time it registered a new candidate. Griffin could see the faces of those who had already finished, some walking away with wide smiles and proud shoulders, others trying to hide their disappointment as they moved toward the exit.
The DOA officials in crisp black uniforms moved along the lines, checking tablets and giving quiet instructions.
One of them passed near Griffin and offered a small, professional nod. "Stay calm when it's your turn. The crystal only needs a few seconds. Hands at your sides, no sudden movements."
Griffin nodded back without speaking. His turn was getting closer with every minute. He could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him, the knowledge that everything about his future was about to be decided by a glowing piece of crystal and a few lines of cold system text.
He shifted his weight slightly and looked up at the massive digital boards hanging from the ceiling. They showed real-time statistics from Awakening Ceremonies happening across the continents, average grades, number of combat Classes awakened, live counts of how many candidates had already finished.
The numbers never changed much year after year. Less than one percent ever hit the high ranks that changed lives. Most people ended up somewhere in the middle, useful enough to work but never special.
Griffin breathed in slowly, trying to keep his thoughts steady. He had made it this far. Whatever the crystal said, he would deal with it.
He always had.The line moved forward again. Only a few dozen people stood between him and the platform now. Griffin could see the crystal more clearly, its soft white light reflecting off the polished floor. The air around it felt thicker, charged with something that made the hairs on his arms rise just a little.
He kept his expression calm, hands still in his pockets, but inside his heart was beating a steady, heavy rhythm. This was the moment he had been waiting for his entire life.
The moment that would decide whether he could finally lift his family out of the lower districts or if they would keep struggling year after year.
The official at the front called the next name. Griffin took one slow breath and waited. His turn was coming.