Thud!
The sound echoed harshly through the dimly lit, confined room, vibrating through the thin floorboards.
A second later, the wooden door cracked open on groaning hinges. A young man stepped out into the gloom.
His eyes immediately dropped to the shadows on the floor. Resting in the grime lay a heavy, jagged object.
He walked over and hoisted it up. It was a Pauldron severely rusted and ancient, yet its sheer weight in his palms proved it was forged from incredibly durable material.
"Mr. 99, be mindful of dropping anything on the ground," the young man said.
He addressed a metallic figure looming in the dead center of the cramped room. Its battered head nearly scraped the plaster ceiling.
Its mechanical body was a canvas of absolute devastation. Deep, jagged dents caved in its metal cheeks, and the helmet was eaten through by patches of thick, flaking rust. The rest of its armor bore the brutal wear of time, resembling a seasoned warrior marked by deep scars and terrible amputations.
"Let me put it here for the time being," the young man muttered.
He lugged the heavy pauldron over to an old, splintering table and set it down with a heavy thud. The frayed shoulder straps wouldn't hold it in place, so reattaching it was pointless. The metallic figure offered no objections whatsoever.
It simply stood there, as still and silent as an inanimate object. The only proof that it was not scrap metal was the faint, eerie orange glow burning in its hollow eyes.
Sigh!
The young man plopped down onto an old mattress. The rusty springs groaned in harsh protest under his weight.
He rubbed his hands violently over his face. Deep tiredness and crushing mental exhaustion from the long day weighed down his every muscle.
"99, what kind of name is this?" he muttered.
His mind raced, cycling through the frantic events of the day. It had all happened so terrifyingly fast, leaving him no time to even catch his breath.
He had envisioned and prepared for this exact day his entire life, and every single one of his meticulous plans had gone horribly awry.
'The Awakening Day.'
It wasn't just him. Everyone in this world waited for this day with bated breath and anxious hearts.
What kind of [Class] would they awaken? What kind of [Expert] would they become?
Those two simple questions determined the entire trajectory of their lives in this world.
"Status," he muttered into the shadows.
Suddenly, a screen composed of swirling black energy materialized directly in front of him.
Glowing letters burned across its dark surface.
Name: Luke Forrester
Class: Clanker Summoner
Rank: FFF
Level: 0 (0%)
Attributes: Constitution 3, Strength 5, Intelligence 6, Agility 3
Accumulated Attribute Points: 0
Title: None
Expert: None
Skills: Summon
Summon Capacity: 1/1
Current Summon: Hollow Descendant 99
Title: Grand Arbiter of the Blade
Rank: FFF
Level: 0 (0%)
Expert: Great Sword
Skills: Slash, Cleave, Thrust
Apparently, Luke had awakened a Summoning Class. But it wasn't a traditional, Summoning path.
Usually, Awakeners who received a summoning class called forth terrifying beasts—creatures that leaned heavily toward the divine or the demonic, wielding incredible magic.
But Luke had received a bizarre variant class that summoned a figure made of metal.
"Clanker Summoner."
According to the Academy headmaster who managed the Awakening ceremony, the authorities were completely unaware of this new class.
They were even baffled when they saw that his summon was made of rusty metal, and the hall erupted in mockery.
Honestly, Luke wouldn't be quite this heartbroken if his rank wasn't a glaring, insulting "FFF." It wasn't very common for people to get a unique Class or an unusual Ranking. But Luke hadn't just received the lowest standard rank of F—he had received three Fs. It had never happened before.
[Expert: None]
This was another unprecedented outcome.
Usually, a person had to become an Expert directly tied to whatever class they awakened. If a person awakened as a Swordsman, they would magically become an expert in swords.
By all laws of magic, he should logically be an expert in summoning. Yet, he got absolutely none.
[Title: None]
Luke shook his head in frustration, and he no longer cared. He had already cycled through every conceivable emotion since he stood under the glaring lights of the Awakening platform.
He had to content himself with what he was given and live with it. He could summon at least one entity, even if it was a battered heap of scrap metal. The absolute worst-case scenario would be that he was completely un-awakened.
Though he told himself that, the comfort was incredibly hollow. At the very bottom of his heart, a quiet, insidious voice reminded him of the painful truth.
The only thing that would actually allow him to sleep tonight was the silver lining hovering at the bottom of the black energy screen.
His summon possessed a Title, an Expert proficiency, a weapon, and actual combat skills.
His eyes lowered, scanning the details of the mechanical giant's capabilities.
[Skill: Slash, Cleave, Thrust]
They were all incredibly basic skills for a Swordsman, and Luke hoped with desperate fervor that they would be strong enough to kill Dungeon beasts so he could level up.
After checking the status of his mechanical summon, he finally felt some warmth in his heart. He swiped his hand, smoothly closing the status window.
He slowly leaned back, his body sinking into the sagging bed as he closed his eyes.
His mind whirred, contemplating his next course of action.
He needed to level up quickly if he wanted to join any Guilds. The Guild recruitment would happen in exactly a week's time.
At the very least, the lowest rank Guilds expected their Awakeners to hit Level 5 and demonstrate a 500 kg punch strength. If one harbored dreams of joining the highly reputed guilds, their requirement shot up to Level 10 and a bone-shattering 1500 kg punch strength.
With his current pathetic physical strength, Luke could not level up even once in a week on his own. Since his class was a summoner, his summon had to do all the heavy lifting. He would go to an F-Rank Dungeon tomorrow and level up there—his only path to joining even a bottom-barrel Guild and accepting Quests.
Otherwise, he wouldn't have any legal means to earn money.
Resolved, Luke forced himself to stand up. He grabbed the rusted Pauldron from the table and, with some effort, wedged it back onto the construct's broad shoulder well enough to hold.
Stepping back, he gave the firm mental command to dismiss.
A sudden, blinding flash of white light illuminated the grimy room. The metallic figure vanished instantly from the center of the floor, returning to the mysterious void from whence it came.
Luke collapsed back onto the mattress and immediately fell asleep, leaving his worries to the dark and hoping everything would turn out according to his plan.