As we were about to leave, I noticed another boy stepping out of the temple. His head was down, and he looked completely defeated.
[Hero Rank Candidate Detected.]
"What the—?" Vhim blinked in confusion.
"Wait a minute," I said, narrowing my eyes. "He's a Hero Rank candidate… but you're King Rank. There must be a difference in level between them."
"Then what should we do?" Vhim asked, glancing at the boy.
"I have an idea. Try adding him to the family," I said.
Vhim hesitated. "Don't you think we should tell him first?"
"No," I shook my head. "It's better if they don't know we're the ones doing it. Just like how you were added. Let them suspect. I have a feeling it'll be more interesting that way."
"Alright. I'll try."
Vhim reached out mentally, focusing on the system.
[Error. A King-level candidate cannot create a family or add members before awakening.]
Vhim frowned. "So I can't add anyone until I awaken. Makes sense."
I nodded. "Which means I can choose the nine members. And they can be any rank between Hero and King… but looks like Hero is weaker than King."
Vhim tapped his chin thoughtfully. "A king is a king, after all… but can a hero eventually become a king?"
I shrugged. "Who knows? That might be something the story hasn't told us yet."
We both stared at the boy for a few moments, watching him walk away alone.
"Let's go home," I said finally.
Vhim gave a small nod. "Yeah…
.
.
.
.
I woke up at dawn, body aching and mind heavy, but this time—there was purpose.
My greatest rival wasn't anyone out there. It was my own body. Weak. Pathetic. Undisciplined.
Before, I didn't bother with training. I had no hope, no future. But now… I had a system.
And legends say—if you have a system and train like hell every day, even gods can't stop you.
I stepped out of my hut, the cold air stinging against my skin. No warm-up. No hesitation. I just ran—straight toward the mountain.
The dirt path turned steep quickly. My legs burned after only a few minutes. My breath grew shallow. It felt like I was suffocating. My limbs trembled like jelly.
"Just a little more. Just a little more. Don't stop now…"
I tried to motivate myself. But I stopped.
I couldn't go on.
"Damn this useless body… no matter what I do, it holds me back."
But then, a thought struck me.
"If I can't run… I'll walk. At least see the sunrise."
So I walked. Step by step. My sweat poured like a stream, soaking my shirt and pants. My heart pounded, each beat screaming at me to turn back. But I didn't.
Eventually, I reached the peak.
The sun hadn't risen yet. The air was unbelievably clean. Cold and refreshing. It felt… sacred.
I found a flat rock, sat down cross-legged, and focused.
"Let's try that breathing technique I always imagined."
Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Hold. Rapid breath. Hold.
Again.
And again.
At first, it was calming. But then, my stomach churned. My body tensed. A bitter taste crept up my throat.
Sweat drenched my body like I was under a waterfall. My head spun.
And then—I vomited.
Black blood. Undigested food. Strange green bile. The stench was awful, like death and poison mixed together.
But afterward…
I felt light. Too light. My body… it wasn't just exhausted—it felt cleaned.
.
.
.
As I decided to head back down the mountain, I saw Vhim climbing up toward me. He was sweating, but it wasn't like mine. His was light, like he'd just taken a stroll around the village, as if nothing had been too strenuous.
He approached, and I started walking toward him as well.
"What happened?" I asked.
"Aren't we going to find the next person?" He sounded curious, almost impatient.
I sighed, adjusting my posture. "I asked Grandpa last night. There's no one else who hasn't awakened like us."
His face dropped a bit. "What now?" His tone shifted from excitement to uncertainty.
"We're going to the kingdom capital. There, we'll find people for sure." My voice carried the same determination I'd felt when I decided to change everything.
Vhim's eyes lit up. "What? Then let's go now!" His excitement was evident. I could see the fire in him. It was infectious.
But I shook my head.
"We aren't ready."
He stopped in his tracks, confusion filling his eyes. "Ha! What do you mean?"
I took a deep breath, pausing to gather my thoughts. A small part of me resisted the idea of telling him, but he had to know.
I thought back to the first chapter I ever wrote—the world I'd tried to create. It wasn't supposed to be just any story. I had drawn inspiration from shows like Black Clover and Demon Slayer, hoping to blend the action and emotion into something uniquely my own.
There was a cameo I'd written at the very end of that first chapter. I'd almost forgotten about it.
But now, as I stood here at the mountaintop, I remembered it clearly.
Yes, this mountain—this place—was home to a demon. A low-rank one, but still dangerous enough. I had intended for Vhim to face it, and when he did, he would remember his past and tap into his forgotten sword techniques, blending them with his newfound breathing techniques.
But now, everything had changed.
"Come with me, Vhim." I turned and started walking down the path, my voice low but firm.
Vhim stood there for a moment, clearly puzzled, but eventually followed. There was something about him—he didn't question me further. He trusted me. Even if he didn't fully understand my reasoning.
.
.
.
I led Vhim to the cave. It took us over an hour of walking through thick trees, rocky slopes, and half-forgotten paths to finally find it.
But we did.
As we neared the entrance, a wave of scent hit my nose like a slap. Blood. Flesh. Rotting. The kind that clings to your throat, that makes your stomach twist with nausea.
I muttered under my breath, "I hate this day… Why are all the rotten smells coming one after another?"
But Vhim didn't stop. Despite the stench, he walked forward—drawn by something deeper. I stayed where I was, letting him go ahead.
He entered the cave.
A moment passed. Then another.
And then I heard the sharp gasp, followed by silence.
I finally stepped closer and peered inside.
Ten small bodies. Children. Dead. Cold. Torn apart. Blood painted the stones like some twisted artwork.
We knew them. The orphans.
The village had never accepted them. So Grandpa—kind old man that he was—built a place near the mountain for them to live, away from judgmental eyes. There was someone assigned to watch over them, a guardian.
But now… they were all gone.
Dead.
And I knew who did it.
Of course I did. I wrote it, after all.
This was the scene I'd planned—one that was supposed to change Vhim. The catalyst. The trauma that would unlock the echoes of his past.
But here's the thing: I never actually wrote this scene. I imagined it, planned it, kept it locked in my head, but never put it to words. So I didn't know what would happen now. Would this still trigger his awakening? Would it still awaken that ancient inheritance hidden in his blood? Or would things go down a different path entirely?
Ah—he's coming out.
Vhim stumbled out of the cave, his eyes wide, face pale. His lips trembled.
His expression was… broken.
"What is this, Arjun?" he asked, voice raw.
I looked at him, my tone quiet. "A demon's work."
And then he fell to his knees. Silent tears ran down his cheeks as his hands clenched the dirt. His shoulders shook. The pain was real. The sorrow was crushing.
I knew.
Of course I knew.
He could relate to those children—abandoned, unloved, forgotten. This was why I created this event. Sorrow and rage, when mixed just right, become something else entirely.
They become power.
That sadness… that fury… it would change him.
It would evolve his eyes—his pupils—and with them, awaken the memories sealed within. Memories of a past he was never supposed to recall.