The moment Azael's words left his mouth, the familiar system window popped into existence before him.
The black glow flickered softly in the dim cell, casting a sterile dark shadow over his exhausted form.
=========minor act==========
The host has accepted his new name and body.
Rewards: 5 points.
==========================
Azael blinked, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the notification.
He didn't understand what was happening. A hidden quest? He wondered briefly.
But the words felt too strange to grasp immediately. His mind was still struggling to catch up with the flood of new sensations.
For now, he swiped the notification away, hoping that would later it would be easier to understand.
His fingers hovered over the screen, instinctively calling up his status.
The rush of confusion and shock had kept him from analyzing it earlier, but now, as the reality of his situation began to sink in, he couldn't ignore the need to understand the changes—his changes.
"Status," he murmured to the still air.
The system obeyed, and the screen flashed before him, revealing details he hadn't expected.
========SYSTEM WINDOW========
∆ STATUS →
• [ Name: Azael M. Vornshade]
• [ Age: 14 ]
• [ Title: Scion of God #$@##]
• [ Class: Dual Mystic ]
• [ Profession: Versatile]
* Primary Profession~ Swordsman*
• [ Talent: Unknown]
*Chosen by the God Himself*
• [ Existence: Anomalous]
~An existence that Fate couldn't bind.
• [ Bloodline: Phoenix (Locked)]
• [ Stats]
— Strength: Lv. 1 > 7
—Agility: Lv. 1 > 11
—Reflex: Lv.1 > 9
—Perception: Lv.1 > 3
—Stamina: Lv.1 > 7
—Durability: Lv.2 > 5
—Dexterity: Lv.1 > 78
—Willpower: Lv.2 > 15
• [ Charm: 23 ]
• [ Affinity ]
—Lightning: Novice
—Darkness: Novice
—Gravity: Novice
|Host has yet to awaken his other Affinities|
*Primary Affinity~ Locked due to low body constitution*
• [ Arcanes ]
—1 Runic: Lightning strike, Dark veil
• [ Arts ]
—None
• [ Innate Techniques ]
—Adaptability: Lv. 1
~Adaptability allows users to adapt attacks, techniques, and abilities. However, the rate of adaptation will depend on the level of the adaptability technique
---------
∆ INVENTORY ∆
∆ STORE ∆
∆ ACTS ∆
∆ STORY PROGRESSION ∆
∆ X Dimension ∆
=============================
Azael took a step back, his eyes scanning the screen with a sense of disbelief.
It felt like a dream, but it was undeniably real.
The first thing that caught his eye was his title: Scion of God #$@##. The name of God was obscured by some strange symbols.
The thought made him pause.
'What the hell?!'
The title seemed important, but the glitchy part of it… was more unsettling than enlightening.
"What the hell with Gods?!. There were no gods in the original game I played, then how could they exist here?" he thought to himself but dismissed it for now as he had more things to focus on.
Then his class. Dual Mystic. He stared at the words, momentarily speechless.
'That's... rare', he thought.
Dual Mystic classes in the game he had played were exceedingly rare, granting the individual to perform both Arts and Arcanes. It was a combination only the most powerful could achieve. And now, it was his.
Versatile as a profession? He didn't even need to think twice. That's overpowered. A profession that allowed him to learn every profession and skill available, but with swordsmanship as the main one.
It was the ultimate flexibility, a path without limits. This... is dangerous, Azael mused. The potential to master any art, any technique, and to wield it with a sword—he couldn't help but appreciate the ironic power that came with it.
But then he saw his Talent: Unknown Azael's pulse quickened. Unknown? That was... unprecedented.
From his experience, every character's talent inside the game had their one and fixed talent, defining their growth rate from the beginning.
But this?
An unknown talent, it seemed like unusual for the normal setting.
He scanned further. Phoenix bloodline (Locked). Azael exhaled sharply.
'Phoenix… locked?' The thought alone left him frozen.
He knew what it meant—immortality, rebirth, the flame of the phoenix. Even locked, the bloodline was a thing of power. It was an advantage. One he wasn't sure he fully understood yet. But when it awakened… when it did...
Azael quickly moved his gaze to his Stats.
Strength and Stamina were disappointingly low, especially considering the power he'd just acquired. 7 and 11? Not great, he thought. His agility, reflexes, and perception were also subpar. It seemed as though his body wasn't quite fitting the potential that had been given to him.
But then he saw Dexterity at 78. Azael's eyebrows furrowed. That's... absurd. Dexterity should have been at a modest level at best. But 78? It was an outlier, a stat that demanded explanation.
Could it be the foundation for his swordsmanship? The fact that it was so high suggested his combat abilities would be far sharper than he'd originally expected. He couldn't deny that it was a good thing.
Then, his Willpower. He noted its unusual level from others. Lv.2? That's not normal, Azael mused. It suggested mental fortitude, a strength to resist manipulation, and an unyielding spirit. A useful thing, considering what he was likely to face.
He turned his attention to his Affinity stats. 'Lightning, Darkness, Gravity—novice levels', he thought, nodding. It made sense. They were likely tied to his lineage. Lightning and gravity probably came from his family bloodline. Darkness, however, was his own, one he would need to explore further.
Still, three affinities weren't common; it was a rare gift.
The last thing on the screen caught his attention—his Innate Techniques.
Adaptability.
At level one. It wasn't as flashy as the other stats, but the implications were enormous. He could adapt to any technique, any attack, any challenge thrown at him.
The effectiveness would increase with time, of course. But the potential to adjust on the fly, to learn mid-battle? It was an ability that could make him unpredictable.
Azael leaned against the cold stone wall of the cell, letting out a slow breath. This is... too much.
His mind swirled, processing the newfound power, the strange reality of his situation. He had no idea how he had arrived here—how his soul had come to occupy this body, or why the system was reacting to him in this way—but it didn't matter. He had been given a chance, a second life. And in this new existence, he could either flounder or rise to the occasion.
It was time to adapt. Time to make sense of it all.
But first, he thought, 'I need to get out of this cell '
Azael pushed himself off the wall, his resolve hardening. There were too many unknowns, and too many questions, but one thing was certain: he wasn't going to waste this opportunity.
"I'll make this work," he whispered to himself, a small smile tugging at his lips. "No matter what."
Abruptly then...
Azael's grin faltered, his expression shifting to one of puzzlement, as a curious thought gnawed at the edge of his mind.
Why, with all that talent and potential, had the original Azael been such a spectacular failure? Sure, some abilities might've been locked away or unawakened, but even then, he should've been at least half as extraordinary as someone like Ares.
Heck, he'd even awakened his elements earlier than most! Yet somehow, he'd spent years wallowing in mediocrity, a pitiful existence as tragic as it was baffling.
The absurdity of it all made Azael squint as if trying to see through a particularly stubborn fog of stupidity.
Was he allergic to success?
Did he have a rare talent for tripping over his own potential?
The thoughts circled like vultures until—
CREAK.
The sound of the prison door scraping open yanked Azael out of his spiral of self-roasting.
Its mournful groan echoed through the stone chamber, each note somehow saying, "Yeah, this place still sucks".
A figure stepped inside, its shadow slinking across the cell like it had nowhere better to be.