The apartment air, thick with the lingering scent of stale cooking oil and the faint, metallic tang of the city's mana exhaust, pressed in on Suka. He stood by his cot, the blue glow of his system panel casting long shadows across the worn floorboards. He'd stared at the numbers for what felt like an eternity, the reality of his talent sinking deeper with each passing second. An army. His army. But an army of what?
He tapped the panel, bringing up his skill description. *SKELETON SUMMON( F-RANK) - Use 100 MP to summon 1 skeleton, with stats of (10 HP, 1 Defense, 10 Attack, 1km/h).* He then pulled up the general knowledge he'd gleaned from whispered conversations and stray data packets.
Minimum defense for an awakened was 15. Minimum for a monster, 15. His skeletons, with their paltry 10 attack, would bounce off. Useless. A sigh escaped him, a sound heavy with the weight of expectation and the crushing reality of his limitations. He needed to find a way. A loophole. He pulled a worn datapad from under his pillow, its screen flickering to life. A hastily composed message to his supervisor blinked back at him.
*Subject: Absence. Mr. Borin, my flu symptoms have worsened. I won't be able to come in tomorrow. Apologies for the short notice. Suka.*
He hovered his finger over the 'send' button. The furnace, the rhythmic clang of shovels, the oppressive heat – a brutal, mind-numbing existence, but a steady one. It provided. It kept him fed, housed, anonymous. He needed that anonymity, especially now. What if his skeletons couldn't scratch a monster? What if his talent was a cruel joke, a cosmic prank that gave him an army of impotent bone? He still needed his fallback. He needed the furnace.
His finger pressed down. The message vanished. A knot tightened in his stomach. He'd burned that bridge, at least for a day. No going back. He clicked off the datapad, plunging the room back into near darkness. Sleep, he decided, would bring answers. Or at least, more skeletons. He pulled the thin blanket over him, the hum of the city fading into a distant drone.
*** A faint light, grey and uncertain, seeped through the grimy window. Suka's eyes snapped open. The air was cold, crisp. No distant snores from Kael's room, no clatter from the kitchen. The apartment was silent, a rare, blessed quiet.
He knew the time without checking. Four AM. His internal clock, honed by years of early shifts at the furnace, was precise. He sat up, the cot creaking under his weight. A shiver, not of cold but of anticipation, ran down his spine. He tapped the air before him. The blue screen materialized, its ethereal glow illuminating the dusty corners of his room.
**OVERWHELMING ARMY- You have an additional pocket dimension that can store unlimited summons. In this dimension any summon you store here experience fission every hour(summons duplicate every hour). Current stored summons: 1 073 741 824**
Suka's breath hitched. His eyes devoured the number, then traced the words again. *One billion, seventy-three million, seven hundred forty-one thousand, eight hundred twenty-four.* His jaw hung slack.
"Who the hell allowed such a talent to exist?" His voice was a raw whisper, barely audible in the quiet room. He shook his head, a disbelieving laugh bubbling up from his chest. "More than a billion skeletons in two days. I summoned one. *One* skeleton two days ago." A wide, almost manic grin stretched across his face, splitting the silence.
"This is truly absurd." The words were a protest, a feigned outrage, but his heart thrummed with a wild, exhilarating joy. A billion. An army that would fight to the death. *His* army.
He threw off the blanket, his movements quick, efficient. No time to waste. He splashed cold water on his face, the shock clearing the last vestiges of sleep. He pulled on his worn tunic, laced up his boots. He grabbed the small, reinforced pack he'd prepared the night before: a coil of sturdy rope, a few dried rations, a water skin. The cheap necklace he'd managed to barter for, its chain smooth and cool against his chest.
He was out the door by half past four, the apartment still sleeping. Three of his roommates worked night shifts, returning only in the morning. Kael, the fire mage, often stayed out even later, sometimes for days. He moved silently through the dim hallway, past Kael's door. It stood slightly ajar, a sliver of darkness visible within. No sound. No heavy, rhythmic snores that usually vibrated through the thin walls when Kael was home.
*Kael didn't come back yesterday,* Suka mused, stepping carefully over a loose floorboard. His absence was common, a regular occurrence. Perhaps Kael hunted with his team in a rift, pressing deeper for better loot. Or maybe, a high-level monster had caught them unprepared, forcing them to hide until a stronger team arrived. The thought sent a familiar chill down Suka's spine. The world outside the walls was a brutal, unforgiving place.
He reached the main door, its heavy hinges groaning a soft protest as he eased it open. The pre-dawn air, cool and sharp, invigorated him. He stepped out, closing the door softly behind him. The city streets, usually a chaotic symphony of vendors and pedestrians, lay quiet. Only the distant hum of the mana conduits and the occasional rumble of a cargo transport broke the silence. He walked with purpose, his eyes scanning the empty thoroughfares.
Soon, the buildings thinned, giving way to wider, more open spaces. A colossal structure loomed ahead, its sheer scale dwarfing everything else. The district security wall. A formidable barrier of reinforced steel and compacted earth, studded with watchtowers and heavy artillery. It stretched as far as the eye could see, a testament to humanity's struggle against the encroaching wilds.
Two guards stood by a massive gate, their figures silhouetted against the nascent glow of dawn. Their uniforms were crisp, their weapons gleaming. Suka approached them, his steps firm.
"Good day, sirs," he greeted, a polite nod. "How are you both doing today?"
One guard, a burly man with a weathered face, grunted, his gaze sweeping over Suka. "Documentation. Reason for district departure."
Suka felt a prickle of annoyance. No return greeting. Just a blunt demand. He dismissed it quickly. They probably dealt with hundreds of people daily, their patience worn thin by endless repetition. He pulled out his new Awakener's license, the sleek card feeling surprisingly light in his hand, and presented it. "I'm going out to hunt," Suka stated, his voice even. "A beginner's rift, if I can find one."
The guard took the card, his eyes flicking over the holographic display. He then scanned Suka's face, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. Another grunt. He handed the license back.
"Gate five," the guard gestured with a thumb over his shoulder. "Stay on the cleared paths. Report any unusual activity."
Suka nodded, retrieving his license. "Thank you." He passed through the massive gate, the heavy machinery groaning as it slid open just enough for him to slip through.
The air outside was different. Fresher, wilder. The ground beneath his boots was firm earth, not paved street. His eyes widened. His schooling, the holographic projections of the outside world, had shown barren, monster-infested landscapes. Yet, here, stretching into the distance, was a verdant expanse. Trees, real trees, their leaves rustling in the gentle breeze, formed a dark line on the horizon.
The area immediately around the wall, however, was clear, a wide, open buffer zone. *Maybe the lack of trees close to the wall allows for visibility,* he thought, the observation a logical conclusion. No cover for monsters to ambush those entering or leaving the district.
He began to walk, keeping to the cleared path that snaked away from the wall. His mind raced, processing the new environment, the implications of his talent, and the path ahead.
"Two ways to hunt," he muttered to himself, reviewing the whispered knowledge he'd gathered. "First, hunt wild monsters. Out here. Second, go inside a rift." He considered the pros and cons. "Wild hunting is dangerous. You could meet a monster far stronger than your level. No way to predict it." His gaze swept across the seemingly peaceful landscape. A false sense of security. Monsters didn't announce their levels. "Another reason for a rift: numbers. I'll be fighting with numbers. I don't want people to see me. I don't want them to deduce the nature of my talent."
His talent, his overwhelming army, was his secret weapon. His shield. His key to survival. It was also a target, a beacon for those who would exploit, control, or eliminate him.
He kept to the open ground, avoiding any patches of tall grass or dense brush that might conceal a lurking threat. The sun, a pale orb, began its slow climb above the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and soft pink. The air grew warmer, carrying the scent of damp earth and unfamiliar foliage.
Then, in the distance, a flicker. A distortion in the air, like heat rising from pavement, but cooler, a shimmering blue. As he drew closer, the distortion resolved into a swirling vortex, a maelstrom of cerulean energy. It twisted and turned, pulling at the very fabric of space around it. A rift. A cold atmosphere emanated from it, a palpable chill that made him pull his tunic tighter, even though the sun was now warming the landscape. It felt like walking into a sudden, inexplicable patch of winter air.
He approached cautiously, his senses alert. Next to the swirling blue, a sign stood embedded in the earth. Two stars, crudely carved into the weathered wood. Below them, a small, faded inscription. *The more stars, the more dangerous the Awakeners Association deems the rift.*
A dilemma. He had no idea what a two-star rift entailed. Was it beginner-friendly? Or a death trap? "Man, I've already walked such a distance." He looked back at the distant wall, a faint line against the morning sky. "I don't know where I'll find another one. No maps, no guides."
He tapped his chin, his mind working quickly. "Alright, plan change. I'll take a quick look inside. If it's too dangerous, I'll leave immediately. Yeah, that's the plan." He paused, a final check. Two hours had passed since he woke. Two more hours of fission. He tapped his license. The blue screen flared.
**OVERWHELMING ARMY- You have an additional pocket dimension that can store unlimited summons. In this dimension any summon you store here experience fission every hour(summons duplicate every hour). Current stored summons: 4 294 967 296**
Four billion. Over four billion skeletons. The number was staggering, incomprehensible. His grin returned, wider, more confident this time. This wasn't just absurd; it was magnificent. He adjusted his grip on his pack, his eyes fixed on the swirling vortex.
The cold emanating from it felt less threatening now, more like a challenge. A thrill shot through him, a potent cocktail of fear and anticipation.
"Now," he murmured, his voice low, filled with a newfound resolve, "let the legend of Suka, the skeleton king, start." He took a deep breath, the cold air filling his lungs. A proud, almost predatory smile stretched across his face.
He stepped forward, planting his right foot into the shimmering blue. The world twisted, dissolved, then reformed around him.