Dawn came slow that morning.
Golden light spilled through the stone arches of the Arkanveil estate, but Lucien was already awake—sitting cross-legged on the floor of his room, his breathing calm, his mind razor-sharp.
Then it happened.
Like a ripple in the fabric of his soul, a flicker pulsed in his chest. It wasn't pain. It wasn't power. It was clarity.
And then—a soundless chime.
> [Trait Awakening Complete]
[System Interface Activated]
The moment every child in the world waited for.
From the snow-steeped peaks of the Dwarven Anvils to the flame-kissed spires of the Ifrit tribes—every child who turned fourteen that day experienced the same silent miracle.
The world responded.
It whispered back.
And for a select few… it whispered something more.
Lucien opened his eyes. Before him, lines of radiant script unfurled—sleek, symmetrical, unwavering. The interface was unlike anything from Earth, and yet its logic clicked into place in his mind like an old key returning to its lock.
Not magic.
Not technology.
Primordial law.
He stared as the system settled, his heartbeat syncing with the pulse of its form.
---
System Interface
> Name: [Redacted]
Race: Human
Family: Arkanveil
Rank: F
Level: 1
Traits:
• Devour [EX Grade]
• Adaptation [SSS Grade]
Special System: Proficiency Panel (Primordial-Class)
Storage Grid: 10 cubic meters
Mana Affinity: High
Physique: Reinforced
Soul Resonance: 37%
---
It was all there.
Truth rendered in data—pure, incorruptible.
Even he had forgotten how detailed the interface was. He'd read about it in the novel. Experienced it in life. But seeing it now, in this reality, was different.
> [Storage Grid: 10 m³]
Note: Capacity triples at each Rank Upgrade.
Next Upgrade → E-Rank → 30 m³
He flicked a finger. The panel followed, moving with his intent.
Responsive. Instantaneous.
It didn't need speech or gestures—it understood.
Everyone got a system interface at fourteen. That was a truth baked into the bones of the world.
But no one—no one—could see another's interface. Not even gods, dragons, or ancient beings.
A safeguard. A promise. Privacy enforced by the very Laws of Existence.
It was both gift and cage.
And it was perfect for someone like him.
---
Lucien stood and stretched. His joints popped, not from strain, but from the subtle realignment taking place within. Adaptation had been working behind the scenes, syncing with his biology. The system panel simply confirmed it.
Physique: Reinforced.
Muscle efficiency up. Nerve conduction up. Healing baseline optimized.
He smirked.
Even now, it was adapting.
And Devour…
His eyes drifted to the trait hovering just beneath the surface.
Devour [EX Grade]
It didn't pulse or glow. It watched. It was dormant—for now. But the moment it tasted another Trait, it would awaken like a beast from myth.
He reached out, gently touching the floating interface.
> Proficiency Panel – Access Granted
A second panel unfolded. This one was his alone.
Proficiency Panel – Primordial-Class
> Magic – Lv 3 [1632/2000]
Mana Control – Lv 4 [1021/1500]
Hand-to-Hand Combat – Lv 6 [489/6000]
Tactical Analysis – Lv 6 [23/6000]
Swordsmanship – Lv 7 [1824/8000]
Mana Sense – Lv 5 [2134/2500]
Adaptation Sync – 15%
His breath caught for just a second.
Not from surprise, but from satisfaction.
This was his real advantage.
Everyone else had their Traits. Their talents. Their bloodlines.
But he had a system that learned.
A system that evolved.
Adaptation, through hardship, pain, and battle.
Devour, through domination and cunning.
And the Proficiency Panel, through pure, relentless growth.
It wasn't fair.
Not to them.
And that was the point.
---
Far beyond the estate, in kingdoms and cities and savage lands, children screamed, laughed, cried. Some rejoiced at rare Traits—beasts and blades and flames. Some wept at F-ranks and forgotten gifts.
But not Lucien.
He had already seen how this story went.
He had read the rise of the protagonist in the novel—the boy who awakened Sword God and Combat Genius, who was heralded as the chosen one.
But now he had awakened two Traits.
And neither were meant to be seen.
---
He tapped a final icon, and a soft glow enveloped his palm. It was his storage grid—a cube of space bound to his soul. Empty for now. But it would fill soon. Tools, weapons, medicines, blueprints. His vault.
> 10 cubic meters.
At E-rank? 30.
D-rank? 90.
And eventually… a realm of his own.
He clenched his fist. Felt the mana hum.
Not magic. Not machine.
System.
Older than both. Woven into the weave of reality.
His battlefield.
---
He took one final look at the panel before dismissing it with a thought. It folded away, like pages closing on a divine tome.
Then, he looked not at the sky, but through it.
Where others saw opportunity…
He saw advantage.
And in a world where power determined everything…
He would turn that advantage into a throne.