《Gunner in a World of Magic: A Progression Fantasy LitRPG》 1. The Beginning A dull ache settled at the base of his skull, throbbing in time with the sluggish pulse of his awakening mind. The sensation was disorienting, as if he had been tossed through the void and left to piece himself back together. His limbs felt heavy, unresponsive, as he forced his eyes open, blinking away the dizziness. The ground beneath him was strange¡ªtoo smooth to be stone, too firm to be metal. It pulsed faintly under his fingertips, a rhythmic hum that vibrated through his skin like a living entity. As his vision cleared, he noticed the intricate carvings embedded within the surface¡ªrunes etched with precision, glowing faintly in a way that suggested purpose rather than mere decoration. Something about them unsettled him, though the meaning eluded him for now. Steadying himself, he pushed up to his feet, rolling his shoulders to dispel the lingering haze. Around him, others stirred, some groaning as they woke, others glancing about in frantic confusion. The sheer number of people was staggering¡ªhundreds, perhaps more¡ªgathered in what looked like the center of an enormous colosseum. High, ancient walls encased them, grand yet foreboding, their stone surfaces etched with similar runes as the ground beneath him. But unlike the floor, these markings shimmered subtly, as if reacting to their presence. Looking around, he took note of the people around him. They appeared to be of similar age, mostly young adults, but their ethnicities varied widely. Skin tones ranged from pale to dark, body types from lean to broad-shouldered, creating a stark contrast against the uniformity of their confusion. Beyond the walls of the colosseum, seated in structured rows of elaborate stone benches, another group watched. Unlike those within the colosseum, these people were composed, knowing. They sat with a quiet authority, their eyes fixed upon the waking Earth-dwellers as though witnessing a routine spectacle. There was no confusion among them¡ªonly expectation. A sharp screech pierced the air, the sound jagged and artificial¡ªlike the testing of an old microphone. The murmurs died instantly as all heads snapped toward the center of the colosseum, where a figure descended atop a floating platform. He carried himself with effortless poise, a man clad in an immaculate tailcoat, complete with a polished cane, a monocle resting over one eye, and a neatly trimmed mustache. His air was one of control¡ªcalculating, practiced, refined. He looked like a butler from an era long past, yet something about the way he observed the gathered crowd made it clear he was no mere servant. His gaze held weight, dissecting, measuring. ¡°Ah, splendid. You are all finally awake.¡± His voice was smooth, crisp, and exuded an air of practiced courtesy, yet it carried an unmistakable coldness beneath its refined veneer. He turned first to the stands beyond the colosseum walls, where figures sat in high-backed seats, watching with detached interest. With a graceful bow, he addressed them first, his movements sharp yet elegant. Only then did he turn his attention to the confused masses below. His monocle gleamed under the soft light, his thin smile unwavering. ¡°Welcome, Earth-dwellers, to Eldoria.¡± Silence followed, the weight of those words sinking into the minds of those gathered. The air thickened with unease, confusion teetering on the edge of panic. But the man on the floating platform remained unbothered, his expression composed as he continued. ¡°I understand that you must have many questions. I assure you, they will be answered in due time. However, for now, I must ask that you remain calm and follow my instructions.¡± He lifted his cane, tapping it lightly against the platform. ¡°To make this process smoother, I need each of you to either say the word ¡®status¡¯ aloud or think it within your mind. This will provide clarity on your situation and allow me to explain things properly.¡± People hesitated. A few skeptically muttered the word under their breath. Others remained frozen, unwilling to participate in whatever this was. Luke, however, acted without thinking. His instincts told him that information¡ªany information¡ªwas valuable. He focused, thinking the word in his mind. A translucent screen appeared before him, crisp and floating in the air.
Luke Raynott Alignment: Neutral Title: None Class: None Specialty: Instincts of the Weak (Passive) Strength: 4 | Agility: 5 | Intelligence: 1 | Divinity: 0 | Luck: 1 | Wisdom: 7 Skills: None Overall rating: Extremely Disappointing
Luke''s mind stalled for a second. Then, instinctively, he thought, Shit. He kept his face neutral, but inwardly, his gut twisted. He wasn¡¯t much of a gamer, but he knew the basics of RPGs and stats¡ªand his were abysmal. His intelligence and luck were especially worrying. After a few moments, Martin continued, giving the gathered Earth-dwellers time to process. ¡°You have been summoned to Eldoria, a world unlike your own. Compared to Earth, this one is rich with magic, filled with creatures and wonders beyond your understanding. Monsters roam the lands, and civilizations thrive under rulers with strength unimaginable to you.¡± He paused for effect before continuing, his voice unwavering. ¡°Every three years, Earth-dwellers are summoned, appearing within these very walls. The cause remains unknown, the method a mystery even to our greatest scholars. However¡ª¡± he lifted his chin, his expression growing reverent, ¡°¡ªthe great Seluvian Empire has shown you mercy. They have created programs and opportunities for your kind to integrate, to learn, and to survive in this world. You will be given guidance, resources, and a future.¡± Luke¡¯s lips pressed into a thin line. That was all well and good, but something nagged at him. Why has no one acted out yet? His knowledge of clich¨¦s told him this was the part where some idiot would start throwing a fit¡ªonly to be made an example of. And right on cue¡ª ¡°What the hell is this bullshit?!¡± A voice rang out, sharp and furious. A blonde-haired young man pushed to his feet, his face flushed with frustration. ¡°Enough with this nonsense! This has gone on long enough. Who the hell do you think you are? Do you have any idea who my father is? He¡¯s a congressman¡ªhe¡¯ll ruin you all for this!¡± Martin barely moved. He simply sighed, adjusting his monocle. ¡°I advise you to remain calm.¡± If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. ¡°Like hell I will! You¡¯re all going to jail when this is over¡ª¡± The cane in Martin¡¯s hand flicked forward in a blur of motion. For a moment, the blonde-haired youth¡¯s expression remained unchanged¡ªfurious, indignant. Then, his head slipped from his shoulders, falling to the ground with a dull thud. The body remained standing for a breath before it, too, crumpled. A cold silence followed. Martin smoothly lowered his cane. His tone remained impeccably composed as he addressed the crowd. ¡°Let that be a lesson. I will not repeat myself. Remain calm and listen.¡± A few stifled shrieks broke the silence, others barely suppressing their retches. Luke felt his stomach turn, but he swallowed the feeling down. He had expected an example to be made¡ªbut he hadn¡¯t expected execution. Noted, he thought grimly. Don¡¯t be stupid. Martin adjusted his monocle, his expression unfazed as he regarded the shaken crowd. "Now that we have established the importance of discipline, let us move forward." With a wave of his hand, the floating platform beneath him descended slightly. In the center of the colosseum, a circular podium began to rise, its surface adorned with a single, ornate red medallion. The artifact pulsed with a faint, rhythmic glow, an inviting yet ominous presence amidst the chaos of the gathered Earth-dwellers. "From this point onward," Martin continued, "each of you will step forward in an orderly fashion and place your hand upon this medallion. It will display your status for all to see. This is an opportunity. If you are fortunate, those in the stands may find you worthy of investment." Luke¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly. Investment? The way Martin phrased it felt deliberately sugarcoated. It didn¡¯t take much for him to connect the dots. This so-called ''sponsorship'' was nothing more than a glorified form of purchase. While the money would technically go to the individuals being sponsored, it was clear that the benefactors would still hold the real power according to what he gathered from Martin''s talks. The funds would be used to nurture potential candidates into powerful figures, but those figures would ultimately remain indebted to their sponsors. Just another game of power and control, Luke mused. He wasn¡¯t surprised. "Candidates," Martin said, emphasizing the word with an air of authority. "That is what you shall be known as. Each of you will be trained, educated, and prepared to integrate into our world. Your potential will determine your future, and it all begins with this first step." The crowd remained tense, but no one dared to object. The memory of the headless blonde was still fresh, a silent warning that echoed louder than any words. Luke folded his arms, watching carefully as the first person hesitantly stepped forward. They approached the podium with a mix of fear and apprehension before placing their hand on the medallion. Instantly, a large, translucent screen materialized above the podium, displaying the individual¡¯s stats for all to see. A murmur rippled through the seated audience beyond the colosseum walls. From their reactions, Luke could tell that the display was underwhelming. One by one, the process continued. Each person revealed their stats, the large screen making it visible to all. As time passed, Luke slowly confirmed something unsettling¡ªhis ability to see stats was unique. No one else reacted before the medallion revealed its information, confirming that he alone possessed this advantage. Is this a skill? Luke thought. Or just an anomaly? He kept his expression neutral, but inwardly, his thoughts raced. This ability, whatever it was, gave him an edge. He could evaluate everyone before their stats were publicly revealed, giving him a window of time to understand what was considered exceptional and what was not. After nearly an hour, the crowd was beginning to understand the standards. Out of all those who had stepped forward, only two had managed to catch the eye of the seated audience. "Ram Rajput," Martin announced as the large screen displayed his stats. "Strength: 14." A low murmur of approval came from the lower audience seats, and soon after, a sponsorship offer appeared on the screen. "Joshua Ambers," Martin continued. "Intelligence: 15." Once again, another offer came through, this time for a slightly higher amount. Luke took note of the reactions. It¡¯s about high stats, not just specific ones. Both Ram and Joshua had clearly exceeded the norm in their respective areas. If someone had exceptional stats in another category, they¡¯d likely be selected as well. The sponsorship amounts were displayed openly¡ª1,000 Sils for Ram and 1,200 Sils for Joshua. The fact that the currency was now introduced made Luke file it away for future use. Sils must be the standard currency here. His gaze drifted toward the audience, studying the sponsors. They sat with a calculated air, their expressions passive yet judgmental. It was clear they were weighing their options carefully, investing in potential assets rather than showing any generosity. Luke sighed inwardly. I¡¯d have chosen those two as well. Their stats stand out too much from the average. Just then, a meek-looking girl with an anxious expression stepped onto the podium. Her hazel hair framed a delicate face, large brown eyes darting nervously across the crowd. There was an innocence about her, the kind that stirred protective instincts in most. She¡¯s definitely getting selected, Luke thought, certainty settling in his mind. He had already seen her stats¡ªonly one other person had higher numbers than her. The girl hesitated briefly before placing her hand on the medallion, and in an instant, her status appeared on the screen above.
Jasmine Lakeshore Alignment: Good (Extreme) Title: None Class: None Specialty: Divine Halo (Passive) Strength: 8 | Agility: 10 | Intelligence: 14 | Divinity: 20 | Luck: 1 | Wisdom: 7 Skills: Heal, To The Hurt (Passive) Overall rating: A Genius
A hushed silence fell over the audience before whispers erupted. Even the unflappable Martin let out an appreciative, "Oh my, my." With a practiced showman¡¯s flair, he gestured toward the VIP section. "Ladies and gentlemen, I believe you all understand the rarity of what we are witnessing here. A genius with such a high Divinity stat is unheard of. And let us not forget the skills she possesses¡ª''Heal'' and ''To The Hurt'' is a passive ability exclusive to Saintesses. A true gem!" An intense bidding war ensued. The numbers climbed at an astonishing pace until the final bid settled at a staggering 50,000 Sils. The highest bid so far. Jasmine¡¯s anxious fidgeting only increased as the process unfolded, but she remained silent. Whatever she was feeling, she kept to herself. As the selection continued, around twelve more individuals were sponsored. But then, another record-breaking bid shocked everyone. "Roy Wilson! Strength: 27. Agility: 25!" Martin¡¯s voice rang out. The moment those numbers flashed on the screen, the bidding frenzy resumed. The final price? A jaw-dropping 93,000 Sils. Luke¡¯s mind whirled, processing the significance of the numbers. At this point, one thing was abundantly clear¡ªthey were being sold. After slowly gathering whatever intel he could from Martin''s talks, he had come to a fair conclusion. The Seluvian Empire owned them all. The sponsorships were merely a formalized transfer of ownership, with 90% of the bid amount going to the individual and 10% directly to the empire. So that¡¯s why Martin is putting on this whole performance. It¡¯s all about maximizing profits. And then, at last, it was his turn. Luke stepped forward, his expression unreadable, but deep inside, determination burned. I don¡¯t want to be labeled as useless. It was in his nature to always appear at his best, to never show weakness. His stats weren¡¯t impressive, but after observing the process carefully, he had formulated a plan. With steady steps, he approached the podium, fully aware that everything was riding on what happened next. 2. Speechless Luke had been watching. From the moment they arrived, he had taken careful note of every movement, every whisper, every glance exchanged. What troubled him most wasn¡¯t the fact that they were trapped in an alien colosseum, being forced into some bizarre selection process. No, what truly disturbed him was how normal everyone was acting. Even those with ridiculously high stats, the so-called prodigies, were just following orders without a second thought. They had no intention of standing out or trying to distinguish themselves beyond what was required. They simply did as they were told, moving along with the process without any attempts to appear more capable, more ambitious, or more deserving of attention. It was almost laughable. They had been plucked from their world, thrown into an unfamiliar system, and instead of questioning their circumstances, they just lined up like obedient sheep. The crowd moved as dictated, whispering among themselves but never challenging what was happening. Where was the drive? The hunger? The instinct to seize an opportunity and make themselves known? Luke had other plans. So far, he had identified three distinct groups among the candidates. The first group was the utterly disappointing ones. These were the people with terrible stats, a complete lack of presence, and not a single outstanding trait to their name. They were as unimpressive as their numbers suggested. Congratulations, Luke, he thought to himself bitterly. You''re part of this prestigious category. The second group consisted of those who had slightly above-average stats. Not enough to attract sponsorship, but just enough to get the occasional murmur from the audience. These people would probably have a rough time ahead¡ªtoo good to be ignored, but not good enough to be noticed. A special kind of suffering. And then there was the third group: the ones who were flat-out exceptional. The moment they placed their hand on the medallion, sponsors pounced on them. Their stats alone guaranteed them a ticket to a cushier future, as long as they played along. Ram and Joshua fell into this category, drawing immediate attention with their above-average numbers. But then there were the outliers. People like Jasmine and Roy didn¡¯t fit into any of these groups because they were in a league of their own. They didn¡¯t need to care about rankings or calculations. They weren¡¯t just good¡ªthey were monsters. Jasmine¡¯s divinity score and Roy¡¯s absurd physical stats had sent the sponsors into a frenzy, with bids soaring into the tens of thousands. That left Luke at a crossroads. He had no delusions about his chances in this round. No one was going to throw money at a guy with mediocre stats. But he had picked up on something interesting¡ªthis wasn¡¯t the only chance to gain sponsorship. After this ¡®auction,¡¯ there would be another event: Class Selection. From what he had gathered, this phase would allow people to unlock new abilities, effectively reshuffling the hierarchy. Many who were overlooked now would likely shine after receiving powerful classes. That¡¯s my shot, he decided. If my stats aren¡¯t enough to get me noticed now, then I just have to make sure I stand out later. For now, he just had to endure. With a deep breath, Luke stepped onto the podium. The crowd quieted slightly, curious about yet another contestant. But before he placed his hand on the medallion, he did something different¡ªhe cleared his throat and spoke. ¡°Ladies and gentlemen,¡± he began, his voice carrying across the colosseum, ¡°my name is Luke Raynott, and while I cannot say what my stats will reveal, I can promise you this¡ªwhoever chooses to invest in me will not regret it. I will work harder than anyone else. I will prove myself as a valuable asset. Even if my numbers fail to impress today, know this¡ªI will rise.¡± A ripple of murmurs spread through the audience. It was an unusual move¡ªno one else had attempted to sell themselves before their stats were revealed. Even Martin, who had remained composed throughout, raised an eyebrow in amusement. Interesting, his expression seemed to say. Luke smirked inwardly. Gotcha. He could see it in their eyes¡ªthe flicker of expectation. After Jasmine and Roy, people were now on the lookout for irregulars, and Luke had just set himself up as a potential third surprise. Then, with deliberate confidence, he placed his hand on the medallion. The screen above flickered. And then¡ª Silence. Complete, crushing silence. Luke barely held on to his smirk as they read his stats. The sponsors, who had been leaning forward in anticipation, slowly relaxed, their expressions turning to bemusement. Then, from the lower stalls, a chuckle rang out. ¡°Well, that was a letdown.¡± Laughter followed, scattered at first but quickly growing. Someone from the audience spoke up, voice laced with amusement. ¡°This dragon turned out to be a worm, not even a serpent.¡± Luke sighed. Yep. That went well. He still kept his composure, it was never his intention to get selected from doing some theatre act, he just wanted to set the stage for the latter event. Martin, who had been briefly caught up in the moment, now felt a sharp sting of disappointment. He had genuinely believed he had uncovered a hidden gem, another prodigy in his batch, but Luke¡¯s stats had proven otherwise. Resigned, he cleared his throat and motioned for Luke to step down. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s move on to the next¡ª¡± But before Luke could fully step off the podium, the unexpected happened. ¡°50,000 sils per academic year.¡± A clear, vibrant, and melodious female voice rang out from one of the VIP stalls, sending a wave of shock through the colosseum. ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°Huh??¡± ¡°HUHH???¡± Luke¡¯s own ¡°HUH?¡± was the loudest of them all, his perfect poker face cracking slightly as he struggled to process the absurdity of what had just happened. Martin, too, lost his usual composure, his mouth slightly agape before he hastily regained his professional demeanor. ¡°Uh, dear guest, I¡¯m extremely sorry, but can you repeat your bid?¡± Martin asked, clearly hoping his ears had deceived him. The feminine voice rang out again, this time sharper, slightly irritated. ¡°50,000 sils per academic year for Luke Raynott. Do not make me repeat myself further.¡± This time, Martin didn¡¯t dare question her again. Instead, he immediately turned to his subordinates. ¡°Escort Luke Raynott to the pre-selected gate¡ª¡± ¡°Since when did you start being so clumsy as to forget basic rules?¡± A new voice interrupted, deep, charismatic, and laced with the weight of authority. This one came from another VIP stall, its aged tone carrying a distinct air of power and experience. ¡°The final bid is only considered final if no one places a higher bid within a minute,¡± the old man continued, his tone both reprimanding and amused. ¡°Why are you trying to end his bidding prematurely?¡± This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Martin blinked in surprise. ¡°Pardon?¡± ¡°60,000 sils per academic year for Luke Raynott,¡± the aged voice declared. ¡°That¡¯s my bid.¡± If the crowd had been stunned before, now they were downright speechless. Luke, meanwhile, was doing his best to keep himself from saying, What the actual fuck is going on?! And thus began the most intense and unexpected bidding war of the night. ¡°70,000 sils,¡± the female voice countered immediately, an edge of amusment in her tone. ¡°75,000,¡± the old man shot back, sounding vaguely irritated. ¡°80,000,¡± she responded without hesitation. This time,the moment of silence stretched longer than expected, the old man¡¯s voice carrying a distinct note of displeasure. ¡°Eighty-five thousand,¡± he muttered, clearly unwilling but bound by his own bid. The female VIP, whom he had hoped would push it further, said nothing. The colosseum remained still for a few moments before Martin, realizing the auction had concluded, quickly moved to formalize the result. ¡°Eighty-five thousand Sils per academic year¡ªfinal bid. Luke Raynott, sponsored by House¡ª¡± The old man cut in sharply, ¡°Enough. Just send him over.¡± His tone made it painfully clear: he had no interest in Luke beyond getting him out of his sight as soon as possible. Luke, who had been barely holding back his confusion, now had to stop himself from smirking. He didn¡¯t know what had just happened, but one thing was clear¡ªhe had caught the attention of people way beyond his league. And even if the old man clearly wanted nothing to do with him, it didn¡¯t change the fact that he was now among the sponsored. Before he could dwell on the absurdity of it all, two figures approached him from the side. They were clad in dark silver armor, each piece intricately engraved with the image of a drake coiled around a spear. Their helmets obscured most of their features, but their sheer presence was enough to silence any lingering murmurs from the crowd. ¡°Follow us,¡± one of them said, his voice echoing slightly through his helmet. With nothing left to do on the stage, Luke complied. The walk through the colosseum¡¯s halls was short but tense. The armored knights led him through a series of high-arched corridors, the torch-lit stone walls giving off an almost medieval feel. Soon, they arrived at a heavy wooden door adorned with an intricate crest. One of the knights pushed it open, revealing a grand dining hall inside. The first thing Luke noticed was the elongated table at the center, large enough to seat at least thirty something people. However, what stood out was the seating arrangement¡ªtwo chairs placed together in pairs, each duo separated by a large gap, as if the seats were deliberately meant to be shared between two individuals. Luke¡¯s entrance didn¡¯t go unnoticed. Every person in the room turned their gaze toward him. Some glanced at him briefly before looking away, uninterested, while others held their stares just a second longer, as if trying to gauge who he was. But no one spoke. The knights gestured toward the middle of the table. ¡°Sit.¡± Luke moved forward, noting that everyone was seated in the left chair of their respective pairs. He did the same, lowering himself onto the vacant left-side seat, the right one beside him left conspicuously empty¡ªjust like all the others. A strange, unspoken rule seemed to hang over the room. Time passed, and the room slowly filled with people. It seemed like all the sponsored candidates had finally arrived¡ªeven those who had been bid on after Luke. Luke sat still, his mind racing as he discreetly rechecked everyone¡¯s stats. A sinking feeling settled in his stomach. The difference between him and the lowest-ranked person in the room was staggering. ¡°This is awkward. I feel like a fish at a cat convention,¡± he thought, masking his unease behind a neutral expression. Instead of worrying about what was out of his control, he turned his attention to his surroundings. The room itself was a marvel¡ªmajestic in every sense of the word. The floor gleamed with polished marble, reflecting the soft glow of enchanted lights embedded in the ceiling. The walls were adorned with intricate floral designs and magnificent paintings, each one depicting scenes of great battles, legendary warriors, and mythical creatures. However, what truly caught his eye were the weapons. Swords, spears, and axes rested in ornate display cases, their edges gleaming under the warm illumination. The craftsmanship was beyond anything he had ever seen¡ªeach weapon looked more ceremonial than practical, yet he could feel an almost tangible aura of power radiating from them. His gaze shifted upward to the light sources. Upon closer inspection, he realized they weren¡¯t bulbs at all, but rather luminous stones carved into delicate, elegant shapes, emitting a steady glow that bathed the room in a warm, golden hue. The sheer grandeur of the place was enough to make anyone feel out of place, but Luke forced himself to remain composed. Seated around the elongated table were exactly sixteen individuals, each occupying a left-side seat in pairs of two. The vacant right-side seats remained untouched, an odd yet deliberate seating arrangement that had yet to be explained. Some of the individuals in the room fidgeted anxiously, their feet tapping against the marble floor in nervous anticipation. Others surveyed their surroundings with wariness, their expressions betraying their unease. Only a handful maintained a composed front, exuding an air of confidence as if this entire situation was nothing more than an intriguing twist in their already exceptional lives. Luke was among the latter. Despite the turmoil within, he forced himself to appear indifferent. His confidence wasn¡¯t genuine¡ªit was survival. He knew better than to let others sense his apprehension. The air shifted as the heavy double doors at the far end of the room swung open. A group of around twenty figures strode in, their presence commanding immediate attention. Leading them was a familiar face¡ªMartin, his ever-present fawning smile firmly in place as he guided the newcomers forward. Luke¡¯s body reacted instinctively. Years of social conditioning and ingrained etiquette took over as he smoothly rose from his seat, inclining his head in a subtle yet respectful nod before straightening his posture. His eyes locked onto the approaching figures with a carefully measured gaze¡ªnot too eager, not too disinterested. A ripple of approval spread through the room. The sponsors, though masters of deception and intrigue, couldn¡¯t entirely mask their pleased expressions. A few of them exchanged brief glances, acknowledging the young man¡¯s composure. It didn¡¯t take long for the others to catch on, and one by one, the remaining candidates followed suit, standing in quiet acknowledgment of the incoming guests. Martin, satisfied with the display, clapped his hands together. ¡°Esteemed guests, kindly take your seats beside your sponsored candidates.¡± Luke finally understood the purpose of the empty seats beside them. As the sponsors began moving toward their designated places, Luke sat back down, waiting patiently. He had no idea who his sponsor was, but he wasn¡¯t about to let his curiosity show. Instead, he subtly scanned the room, taking in each sponsor¡¯s presence. One man in particular caught his eye¡ªa figure who exuded quiet authority. He appeared to be in his early forties, his sharp features accentuated by a neatly trimmed goatee and a thin mustache. His light brown hair, matching Luke¡¯s own shade, was slicked back, and he wore a simple yet elegant black-and-white suit that did nothing to diminish his imposing aura. Curiosity got the better of him. Discreetly, Luke activated his ability to assess the man¡¯s stats. The moment he did, a name and information flashed before his eyes.
Albert Heisenberg Alignment: Neutral (Gray) Title: Transcendent Count | ?? Class: The Revering Fist Specialty: ?? Strength: ?? | Agility: ?? | Intelligence: ?? | Divinity: ?? | Luck: ?? | Wisdom: ?? Skills: Roaring Fang | ?? | ?? Overall Rating: A Monster of Fists
A shiver ran down Luke¡¯s spine. Before he could even process what he had just read, he felt an intense gaze piercing through him. Albert¡¯s eyes, sharp and calculating, met his own with a knowing glint. Luke immediately averted his gaze. ''Did he just¡­ snicker at me?'' A quiet chuckle rumbled from the man¡¯s throat, sending a wave of unease down Luke¡¯s back. He made a mental note¡ªnever check someone¡¯s status carelessly again. ¡°The kids this time sure are funny,¡± Albert remarked, his voice carrying amusement laced with something more ominous. Before Luke could react, a hand landed on Albert¡¯s shoulder, firm and unyielding. ¡°What do you think you¡¯re doing?¡± An old man stepped forward from behind Albert, his glare sharp enough to cut through steel. He was older¡ªperhaps in his sixties¡ªbut his presence was anything but frail. His stark white hair framed a face carved with years of experience, and his eyes held the weight of countless battles. Albert¡¯s expression twitched in apparent displeasure, but he maintained a veneer of civility. ¡°Nothing? I didn¡¯t think we were close enough to put hands on each other¡¯s shoulders, General Garhan.¡± ¡°We certainly are not,¡± the older man, Garhan, replied coolly. ¡°So you had best control those fierce eyes of yours, lest you find them gouged out.¡± A tangible wave of pressure swept through the room. A white aura flared around Garhan, heavy and oppressive, forcing an instinctual stillness upon everyone present. Martin, ever the peacekeeper, quickly intervened. ¡°H-haha. Dear guests, let¡¯s not do this. At least for the sake of proceeding with the rules set by His Majesty.¡± The moment he mentioned ¡®His Majesty,¡¯ both men¡¯s aggression visibly cooled. Without another word, Garhan brushed past Albert, moving toward the empty seat beside Luke. With a huff, he sat down, arms crossed, eyes closed. Luke swallowed the lump in his throat, deciding against speaking unless spoken to. A quiet tension hung over the room as the last of the sponsors took their seats. At Martin¡¯s signal, everyone followed suit, settling into their places. With a smooth clap of his hands, Martin announced, ¡°Since everyone has come a long way, you must all be hungry. Let us begin dinner immediately.¡± At his words, the doors opened once more, and rows of servants flooded the hall, pushing silver trolleys laden with food. 3. Class Selection The moment Luke¡¯s eyes fell on the table, he felt both amazed and slightly horrified. The dishes laid out before him were an extravagant feast, yet the names on the small golden plaques placed beside each dish made him pause. ¡°Four-Winged Falcon Roast,¡± ¡°Giant Leopard Crab Sausages,¡± ¡°Molten Boar Stew,¡± ¡°Abyssal Tuna Tartare,¡± and, his personal favorite in terms of sheer nightmare fuel, ¡°Chimera Hotpot.¡± Luke gulped. Were they really about to eat these things? He glanced around the room, searching for even a hint of hesitation from the other diners, but everyone except the ''candidates'' seemed unnervingly at ease, picking up their utensils and digging in like this was a casual Tuesday meal. His brain waged war against itself. On one hand, this could be the most exotic and rare cuisine he would ever taste. On the other hand, he wasn¡¯t entirely sure if these creatures had been properly checked for, say, venom, soul-possessing parasites, or spontaneous resurrection tendencies. Would his stomach survive this ordeal? Then the aroma hit him. His internal debate crumbled like a house of cards in a hurricane. The scent was beyond divine¡ªrich, smoky, tantalizing. The Four-Winged Falcon Roast glistened under the warm light, its golden-brown skin crackling ever so slightly as someone sliced into it. The Molten Boar Stew bubbled invitingly, thick and hearty, with spices that made his mouth water just from the scent alone. ¡°Ah, screw it,¡± Luke muttered, grabbing his utensils. ¡°If I die, at least I¡¯ll die well-fed.¡± The first bite was nothing short of transcendental. The Falcon Roast was both crispy and tender, the meat practically melting in his mouth, bursting with a mix of savory and slightly sweet flavors. The Giant Leopard Crab Sausage had a rich, seafood-infused umami taste, with just the right snap when he bit into it. And the Chimera Hotpot? He had no idea what part of the chimera he was eating, but dear god, he didn¡¯t care anymore. Halfway through his meal, a thought hit him, making him pause mid-bite. ¡°I¡¯m never going to miss Earth¡¯s food again. I can die in peace.¡± Then, another thought immediately followed. ¡°Wait. Do they have cola here?¡± Panic set in. He could live without burgers. He could live without pizza. But if this world didn¡¯t have some sort of carbonated, syrupy goodness, he might actually go feral. He made a mental note to investigate later. As he continued devouring the banquet, he noticed something odd¡ªhe felt¡­ good. Really good. His exhaustion from earlier had vanished, replaced by a lightness in his limbs and a refreshing clarity in his mind. His body practically hummed with energy. ¡°What kind of steroids do they put in this food?¡± he murmured under his breath, flexing his fingers experimentally. This wasn¡¯t just a full stomach¡ªit was as if every cell in his body had been rejuvenated. By the time Luke finally leaned back, fully satiated, he had also managed to sneakily observe most of the people in the room. Unsurprisingly, he couldn¡¯t glean much beyond basic information¡ªnames, classes, a few scattered titles and skills. Everything else? A delightful buffet of question marks. It was clear that the people sitting here were not on his level. At least, not yet. After more than an hour of feasting, a familiar figure materialized seemingly out of nowhere. Martin, who had been absent the entire meal, suddenly stood at the front of the room. With a light cough, he effortlessly commanded everyone¡¯s attention. ¡°Since everyone is done with the feast,¡± Martin said smoothly, ¡°do I have the esteemed guests¡¯ permission to continue with the class placement?¡± A brief silence followed before the VIPs, particularly Albert, Garhan, and a lady in a blindfold gave him a single nod. The rest of the sponsors, those from the non-VIP seats, immediately followed suit, as if the natural hierarchy had already been well established. Luke hastily grabbed a tissue paper placed in front of him, cleaned his mouth and hands, and stood up. Straightening his t-shirt and trousers, he walked towards Martin. If I knew I would get transmigrated, I''d have at least worn a suit. He thought sarcastically. With the feast concluded, Martin gestured for everyone to follow him as he led the group out of the grand dining hall. They moved through an elaborately designed corridor before arriving at another massive chamber, just as lavishly decorated. However, before Luke could fully take in the details, a faint tremor ran through the floor beneath them. The room gave an almost imperceptible lurch, followed by a slow, steady descent. The realization dawned on the candidates first, their expressions shifting from curiosity to shock as they grasped the truth¡ªthe entire chamber was a colossal elevator. Meanwhile, the sponsors remained composed, their faces betraying no emotion, as if this was an everyday occurrence. As the descent continued, Martin cleared his throat, addressing the group. ¡°Now that the feast is over, we move on to the next step¡ªthe Class Selection Ceremony. This is a pivotal moment for all of you,¡± he said, casting a brief glance toward Luke, who immediately scoffed inwardly. I¡¯m already getting singled out? Great. Martin continued, ¡°Each of you will receive a selection of classes. The number and rarity of available classes will depend on your potential. Higher potential candidates will have more choices, including those of greater rarity. However, there is no need to worry¡ªyour sponsors will guide you in selecting the best option for your growth.¡± A ripple of relief spread among the candidates. It was already an overwhelming day, and having some form of guidance was a welcome reassurance. After what felt like minutes, the elevator chamber came to a halt with a barely perceptible hum. Before them lay an even larger space, unlike anything Luke had ever seen. It looked like a fusion of a high-tech laboratory and an ancient mystical sanctum. Holographic screens hovered mid-air, streams of data flowing seamlessly across them. Blue-hued glass rooms lined the walls, their interiors glowing with arcane energy. And at the very center stood a colossal mana crystal, pulsating with a deep, rhythmic light. Martin stepped forward, turning to address the candidates once more. ¡°Now, for the process. Each of you will step forward, one by one, and place your hands on the mana crystal. It will analyze your mana and determine the classes best suited for you.¡± He paused for emphasis before adding, ¡°Again, I must stress¡ªdo not make a hasty decision. Consult your sponsor before choosing a class.¡± None of the candidates had any plans to do anything other than that. If they had been left to navigate this by themselves, the pressure would have been unbearable. Martin glanced around the room, his gaze settling on one individual. ¡°Roy, you will go first. Step forward and place your hands on the crystal. Allow its energy to flow through you.¡± Roy nodded, his expression determined as he approached the massive crystal. Taking a deep breath, he pressed his hands against its surface. A long silence followed. Seconds passed. Then a minute. Nothing happened. A flicker of unease crossed Roy¡¯s face. ¡°Uh, is it supposed to take this long?¡± he asked, his voice slightly hesitant. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. Martin¡¯s brows furrowed. ¡°No, it usually does not¡ª¡± He was cut off mid-sentence as the crystal flared to life, releasing a wave of blinding golden light that flooded the room. Instinctively, the candidates shielded their eyes, though the VIP sponsors barely flinched, watching with mild amusement. As the radiance receded, a large holographic screen materialized in front of Roy, displaying an extensive list of available classes. Please choose a class from the following options: And the list went on, spanning multiple lines, each class name glowing with an otherworldly brilliance. The room fell into silence. Soon after, gasps of admiration echoed through the chamber. The sponsors, who had maintained an air of superiority, looked visibly shaken. Among them, Rose Whitney, the VIP who had sponsored Roy, couldn¡¯t help the smile that curled on her lips. After much discussion, Roy and Rose eventually settled on Sword Apostle¡ªa safe and obvious choice. Their exchange revealed that the final evolution of the class was Sword Saint, the absolute pinnacle of swordsmanship, a figure of legend in Eldoria. Then, it was Jasmine¡¯s turn. Unlike Roy¡¯s overwhelming golden radiance, the mana crystal pulsed with a softer glow when she placed her hands on it. Still, a long list of available classes materialized, mostly revolving around her Divinity stat. Her sponsor, a middle-aged man with silver-threaded hair, tapped his chin thoughtfully as he scanned the choices. ¡°Holy Maiden,¡± he said after a moment. ¡°It¡¯s the most optimal path for you.¡± Jasmine nodded. There was no need to overthink it¡ªanyone who had played an RPG before knew that Holy Maiden was the natural pick, at least for someone like her. One by one, the rest of the candidates made their selections, each going through their own moments of triumph, contemplation, or visible relief. And then, the inevitable happened. As if to single him out even further, Martin deliberately waited until the very end to call the final candidate. ¡°Luke,¡± Martin finally said, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. ¡°You¡¯re up.¡± His smirk was subtle, but it carried an unmistakable weight. Luke took a deep breath, inwardly making a pledge. I¡¯ll fuck you up good in the future, Martin. With no other choice, he stepped forward. His heart pounded in anticipation. This is it. This is my chance to turn my misfortune around. He closed his eyes, whispering a silent prayer to all gods, devils, and any cosmic entity that might take pity on him. Then, he placed his hands firmly against the crystal. And¡ª Please choose a class from the following options. Gunner. A single word appeared in front of him. Silence. Luke blinked. His fingers twitched. There had to be a mistake. Without thinking, he pulled his hands away and slapped them back onto the crystal. Please choose a class from the following options. Gunner. He tried again. Gunner. And again. Gunner. By the tenth attempt, something finally changed. Please choose a class from the following options. Gunner. Gunner. Motherfu¡ª! Luke barely had time to process his sheer misfortune before laughter erupted in the room. The sponsors and even some of the candidates couldn¡¯t contain their amusement. Garhan, his sponsor, let out a loud harrumph, instantly silencing the room. Luke, desperate to end this humiliation, gritted his teeth and selected the class. And just like that, his streak of misfortune continued.
Garhan¡¯s teeth gritted audibly as he made his way out of the stadium, each step only deepening the scowl on his face. Beside him, walking with an infuriating sense of ease, was none other than Luke¡ªthe good-for-nothing ass-kisser he had somehow ended up sponsoring. This useless bastard. Garhan felt his blood pressure spike. Just looking at Luke¡¯s face made him feel like he had aged another hundred years. He clenched his fists, swallowing down the urge to smack the smugness off the brown-haired idiot¡¯s expression. Instead, he settled for burning imaginary holes into the back of Luke¡¯s head with his glare. As they neared the waiting area where his family¡¯s carriage was stationed, Garhan¡¯s eyes flickered to the side, landing on a woman whose mere presence irritated him even more. The red-haired beauty stood poised, her slender figure draped in elegant black clothing embroidered with golden patterns. But what made her stand out wasn¡¯t her graceful appearance or even the obsidian-colored sword strapped to her hip¡ªit was the thick black blindfold covering half her face, concealing her eyes completely. Sylvi Redfern. A living thorn in his side. To outsiders, she was an enigma. A mysterious and powerful swordswoman, the current head of the Redfern household¡ªone of the most renowned sword families in the entire Grencefert Continent. The Redferns wielded katanas with their famed Delicate Sword Style, a technique lauded for its precision and finesse. Meanwhile, Garhan¡¯s Timberdell family prided itself on the raw power of their two-handed sword techniques. The rivalry between the two families had existed for centuries, but Garhan¡¯s particular enmity toward Sylvi was uniquely personal. Despite only being a year younger than him, she still retained her youthful, flawless appearance, while he¡ªdespite every skin retention potion, every hair loss remedy he could find¡ªwas beginning to look more and more like an old man. And if that wasn¡¯t enough, she always seemed to be one step ahead of him, no matter the competition. Every time they met, he found himself locked in yet another one-sided argument, desperately trying to prove that his Timberdell family¡¯s swordsmanship was superior to hers. But no matter what he said, she would respond with that same infuriatingly calm demeanor, as if she wasn¡¯t even aware of their rivalry. And now, to make matters worse, she had meddled in the selection process. Garhan''s glare shifted back to Luke. Initially, he had intended to secure the best candidate from this year¡¯s summoning, no matter the cost. He had been ready to bid whatever was necessary to claim Roy¡ªthe prodigy with dual starting stats in the 20s. But then Sylvi had shown up. The damned woman had never attended a summoning before, yet today of all days, she decided to appear. That alone had been enough to put Garhan on edge, but when she placed her bid¡­ 50,000 Sils. For some random nobody. At first, he thought she had lost her mind. But then he had convinced himself otherwise. She¡¯s messing with me. That had to be it. There was no logical reason for her to go after a dud like that. And there was no way in hell he was going to let her win. So, against his better judgment, he bid more. And more. And more. By the time he realized what was happening, he had already committed to 85,000 Sils a year. 85,000 Sils! For this piece of trash! Roy had been taken for 93,000 Sils. That was understandable. Roy was a genius, a prodigy. But how had he ended up bidding almost as much for this thing? He had fully expected Sylvi to counterbid. But she hadn¡¯t. She had simply gone silent, watching as the auctioneer declared Garhan the winner. It was at that moment that Garhan had realized he had been played. That fucking Vixen. He had walked straight into her trap. And now he was stuck with this shameless, slithery bastard who had the nerve to walk beside him as if he belonged there. Luke didn¡¯t seem bothered at all by the mockery he had received from the other sponsors. He didn¡¯t flinch at the whispers, didn¡¯t even react to the sneers. No, he was just walking. Casually. Calmly. As if he weren¡¯t the biggest laughingstock of the day. Garhan felt his fingers twitch. He had made a terrible mistake. Shameless wimp. 4. A Slight Improvement? Shameless wimp. Luke could already tell that was exactly what was going through Garhan Timberdell¡¯s mind right now. The man¡¯s face was practically carved from stone, his expression locked into a glare so intense it might have pierced straight through him if looks could kill. But did Luke care? Hardly. So far, he had slowly pieced together what was happening. From the way Garhan¡¯s eyes flitted between him and the blindfolded woman walking ahead, the truth was fairly obvious. She had been the first one to bid on him, throwing down a hefty 50,000 sils without hesitation. And Garhan? He had only joined the bid because she had. Not because he saw any value in Luke, but because he wanted to take whatever she wanted. Instead of getting someone actually useful, he was stuck with Luke. Luke¡¯s gaze shifted toward the woman leading the group from a distance, walking alongside the other sponsors and candidates as they moved toward what he assumed was a transportation facility. He hadn¡¯t seen much of this world yet, but it made sense that they had a place to sort out travel. That aside, he had to admit¡ªhe was just as curious about the blindfolded woman as anyone else would be. I¡¯d be lying if I said I wasn¡¯t curious about the blindfold. The shocking part was that while Luke could see basic details about others¡ªlike their classes and even a few of their skills¡ªwith her, all he could see was her name: Sylvi Redfern. No class, no skills, nothing. A complete enigma. He wondered who she was, why she wore such a long blindfold, and why she carried herself with such an air of mystery. More than anything else, he wanted to know why she had ever bid on him. For a brief moment, he considered the possibility that it was because of his face. It wouldn¡¯t be the first time someone took an interest in him for his looks. His face was, after all, one of his best assets. He could admit he was a narcissistic guy. But the idea that Sylvi Redfern¡ªwho exuded an almost untouchable presence¡ªwas interested in him for that? That was ridiculous. There was no way he was the first pretty boy she had come across. As he absentmindedly walked, lost in his thoughts, his gaze lingered on her a bit too long. And then, it happened. A slight smile appeared on her lips. Subtle. Barely there. Luke didn¡¯t miss it. A chill ran down his spine. This world is way too mysterious and dangerous, he thought, and I need to get used to it quick¡ªotherwise, I¡¯m in for a bad time. Luke''s mind was still processing everything as he followed Garhan through one of the designated sections. The recent events had sealed his fate as a Gunner for the rest of his Eldorian life, without even being offered another option¡ªnot even something as petty as a thief. With a sigh, he mentally commanded his status window to appear, just to see what had changed since obtaining his class.
Luke Raynott Alignment: Neutral Title: None Class: Gunner (Growth) Specialty: Instincts of the Weak (Passive) Strength: 4 | Agility: 7 (+2) | Intelligence: 1 | Divinity: 0 | Luck: 1 | Wisdom: 9 (+2) Skills: None Overall Rating: Disappointing
Seeing his new stats, Luke almost halted in his tracks. However, his conditioning to never show surprise in front of others kept him walking in an aloof manner. The most immediate change was his overall rating¡ªit had gone from Extremely Disappointing to just Disappointing. That alone was a significant improvement in his eyes. But what truly caught his attention was something much bigger. Although his Gunner class was displayed in white, indicating it was only a common rank, the (Growth) in brackets beside it had not been there when he originally selected it. That alone set his class apart. For comparison, Roy¡¯s Sword Apostle class was displayed in dark blue, marking it as rare, and Jasmine¡¯s Holy Maiden was the same. Classes in this world could evolve, but this (Growth) beside his class was something he couldn¡¯t wrap his head around. None of the others had anything similar. He was sure of it. He was tempted to ask Garhan about it immediately, but a small voice in the back of his mind told him to hold off. He might just be getting excited over nothing, and he needed more knowledge about this world before jumping to conclusions. If (Growth) truly meant something significant, he would find out soon enough. Aside from that, he also noted improvements in his stats. Agility and Wisdom had both increased by 2 points, bringing his Agility up to 7 and his Wisdom to a whopping 9. That made his Wisdom slightly above average, while his Agility was now within a normal range. It was a small but meaningful boost. Lost in his thoughts, Luke didn¡¯t even realize that he had unconsciously reached the end of the hallway¡ªstepping straight out into the world beyond. The moment Luke stepped out of the grand stadium, he felt the shift in atmosphere like a palpable force against his skin. The cool night air greeted him with an inexplicable richness, crisp and almost luxurious, like something the wealthiest on Earth would have paid fortunes to inhale. This wasn¡¯t just air; it was Eldorian air. Breathing it in, he felt an odd sense of clarity, as if every breath infused him with vitality. The stadium, now behind him, stood like an ancient coliseum in the midst of a dense forest. Towering trees with luminous leaves swayed gently, their glow resembling distant fireflies scattered in the dark. Above, the night sky stretched infinitely, painting a breathtaking canvas with its celestial bodies. Two moons hung in the sky, their silvery glow casting an ethereal light upon the world. The sight alone was enough to remind Luke how foreign and mystical this place was. The moons¡ªone slightly larger than the other¡ªwere mesmerizing, their celestial dance slow and deliberate, as if the universe itself was in no rush. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. His moment of peace was interrupted by Garhan¡¯s voice. ¡°Stay here. Our family¡¯s carriage will be here soon. I have some business to take care of.¡± Without waiting for a response, Garhan turned on his heel and disappeared into the shadows, leaving Luke alone to bask in the beauty of Eldoria¡¯s night. Luke took another deep breath, letting the cool air brush against his skin. As the moonlight fell upon his face, it accentuated his striking features for the first time. His soft brown hair, cut just above his ears, swayed gently in the night wind. His sharp facial features held a certain charm, effortlessly refined yet undeniably masculine. But his best feature¡ªhis eyes¡ªstood out the most. Crystalline blue, shining like the ocean reflecting the sky, they seemed to capture and refract the moonlight, glowing with an almost supernatural luminance. He sighed, watching his breath dissipate into the air. This was real. All of it. He had somehow adapted so quickly, and that in itself was crazier than the fact that he was in another world. His gaze drifted back to the twin moons. ¡®This is all real, huh?¡¯ he mused internally. A voice, smooth and melodious, broke through his thoughts. ¡°It¡¯s calm, isn¡¯t it?¡± Luke tensed slightly. He knew that voice. Heck, it would be weirder if he didn¡¯t. There was something so uniquely fascinating about it that even he, someone who had spent his life sucking up to people, couldn¡¯t find the right words to describe or praise it. He didn¡¯t turn around immediately, choosing instead to keep staring at the moons. ¡°It is. I wonder for how long, though.¡± He knew his peace wouldn¡¯t last. It never had, not even back on Earth. There was no reason to think it would be different here. For now, he¡¯d simply enjoy this fleeting moment while he could. The woman behind him let out a soft chuckle, a barely perceptible smile forming on her lips. ¡°Garhan isn¡¯t a bad man. He isn¡¯t the worst you¡¯d see, at least.¡± Luke chuckled dryly at her attempt at reassurance. ¡°That¡¯s comforting.¡± Finally, he turned around to look at her. His light brown hair shimmered under the moons¡¯ glow, and his crystal blue eyes¡ªshadowed slightly¡ªstill managed to hold a captivating gleam. Any woman would have fallen for such an effortlessly charming face. Alas, the woman before him had her eyes closed. Literally. ¡°Would you tell me why you bid on me if I asked?¡± he inquired, knowing full well he wouldn¡¯t get a straight answer. Instead of responding, she moved slightly to the side. Moments later, Garhan emerged from the gate, his expression irritated as his gaze darted between the two. He opened his mouth, then closed it, seeming to reconsider his words before finally settling on, ¡°Come with me. We are moving.¡± Before Luke could respond, the sound of approaching hooves filled the air. A beautifully crafted wooden carriage, covered in intricate engravings, pulled up before him. The two dark brown horses leading it were unlike anything he had ever seen; their manes shimmered with an otherworldly blue light, pulsating like veins filled with liquid starlight. The carriage itself was a work of art, large and exquisitely detailed, the metalwork reflecting the moonlight in dazzling patterns. Luke took a final glance at Sylvi, but in the blink of an eye, she was gone. A strange emptiness filled him, but he shook it off and stepped into the carriage. The interior was luxurious, the leather seats impossibly soft, the air inside carrying a subtle, intoxicating fragrance. It was comfort unlike anything he had ever experienced. ¡°Don¡¯t try anything funny,¡± Garhan warned before boarding his own, much larger carriage. Luke smirked to himself. ¡®Don¡¯t worry, old man. I won¡¯t be running away anytime soon. I have too much to gain here.¡¯ He leaned against the window, watching as the dense forest blurred past them, the moons still shining brightly overhead. The gentle rocking of the carriage, combined with the smooth suspension magic, lulled him into a relaxed state. His eyelids grew heavy, and before he knew it, the fatigue of the day claimed him. Luke Raynott drifted into sleep, the mystical night of Eldoria his last sight before slipping into the unknown realms of dreams. Timberdell City It took them approximately four hours to reach Timberdell City from the dense forest they had departed from. The city was located at the extreme west of the Rolhart Kingdom, standing as a bastion of prosperity and refinement. Luke had woken up an hour ago. His body, accustomed to surviving on minimal rest, had naturally stirred from slumber as soon as it had received the bare minimum of recovery. His mind was still groggy from exhaustion, but curiosity won over fatigue. Peering through the carriage window, he took in the sprawling city before him. Despite it being well past midnight, Timberdell City was alive with activity. The streets were well-lit, a testament to its developed infrastructure. The lamps cast a warm glow upon the cobblestone roads, and numerous shops and establishments still bustled with business. Merchants haggled with their customers under the starry sky, while groups of well-dressed individuals walked leisurely, enjoying the crisp night air. Luke couldn¡¯t see everything from the carriage, but what he did observe was enough to give him a rough idea of how well-maintained the city was. He had read enough fiction and history books to understand that a city was a direct reflection of its ruler. A prosperous, secure, and lively city meant competent leadership, and judging by what he saw, Garhan was an exceptional lord. The well-guarded entrances, the clean streets, the presence of city guards who weren¡¯t just there for show but actively patrolling¡ªall of it spoke of an organized and well-run territory. Even the commoners seemed better dressed than those in typical medieval settings, suggesting economic stability. The infrastructure wasn¡¯t extravagant but functional and refined, designed with long-term sustainability in mind. Timberdell was a city where people not only survived but thrived. As they passed through the grand streets, Luke leaned back and exhaled softly. Whatever Garhan¡¯s true nature was, it was undeniable that he ruled his land efficiently. When the carriage finally stopped, Luke opened the decorated wooden door and stepped out. His gaze lifted, and he was momentarily taken aback. Before him stood the grand Timberdell Mansion, a structure so breathtaking that it looked as though it had been plucked from the pages of a fairy tale. Towering with elegance, the mansion was an architectural masterpiece, adorned with intricate carvings and detailed craftsmanship. Yellow and blue lights illuminated its walls, casting a regal aura over the surroundings. The windows shimmered like diamonds under the moonlight, and the vast gardens surrounding the mansion were meticulously maintained. The sheer size of the mansion was overwhelming. The carriage had stopped right before the inner doors, but even from here, Luke couldn¡¯t see the full extent of the estate. It stretched far beyond his immediate vision, a statement of wealth and power. Garhan had already disembarked and was making his way inside without sparing Luke another glance. The man moved with purpose, his long coat swaying behind him. ¡°Young sir, please follow me. I¡¯ll guide you to your quarters.¡± A polite voice snapped Luke out of his thoughts. Turning his head, he found a middle-aged butler standing beside him, his posture impeccable, his expression warm yet professional. Luke nodded and followed him inside. As he stepped into the grand mansion, he couldn¡¯t help but appreciate its luxurious beauty. The polished marble floors gleamed under the chandeliers, which were adorned with shimmering crystals. Expensive paintings and tapestries lined the walls, depicting scenes of history and mythology. Every step he took reinforced just how wealthy and influential Garhan truly was. The butler led him up the grand staircase, past intricately designed hallways, until they reached the second floor. Stopping before an elegant wooden door, the butler turned the handle and stepped aside. ¡°Please rest for tonight. Food will be served in a moment. I will also arrange clothes suitable for your size. Feel free to take a bath if you wish.¡± Luke gave a small nod of appreciation before stepping inside. The butler closed the door gently behind him. The room Luke was offered wasn¡¯t just luxurious¡ªit was opulent beyond anything he had ever seen. The bed was enormous, layered with plush bedding softer than clouds. Velvet curtains framed the tall windows, which overlooked the vast gardens and city beyond. A chandelier of pure crystal hung from the ceiling, casting a soft golden light. The furniture was carved from the finest wood, detailed with gold accents. Even the air inside the room carried a subtle floral fragrance, likely from rare flowers imported from distant lands. However, Luke was far too exhausted to admire his surroundings for long. With a deep sigh, he trudged towards the bed and collapsed onto it, his body sinking into the ridiculously soft mattress. He barely had time to adjust his posture before sleep overtook him, his breathing slowing as he drifted off. His snoring was quiet, a result of his head being stuck at an odd angle on the plush pillows. Unbeknownst to him, a slender shadowy figure manifested out of thin air beside his bed. Cloaked in darkness, the mysterious entity wore a black mask, its presence nearly imperceptible. Without hesitation, the figure retrieved a small vial filled with a golden liquid and tilted it carefully over Luke¡¯s lips. The liquid slid down his throat effortlessly, its effects unknown. Moments later, the figure vanished, melting into the darkness as though it had never existed. Luke, unaware of the intrusion, continued to sleep peacefully, his breathing steady and unbroken. 5. A meal with the Timberdells Mhmmm. The warm morning rays glowed brightly on Luke¡¯s fair skin. His silky light brown hair fell to his forehead, accentuating the natural contours of his sharp features. The soft bed beneath him was almost too comfortable, as if inviting him to sink back into sleep, but his body had long been trained to function on minimal rest. Slowly, he stretched, his muscles tensing before relaxing again, and he clicked his tongue in mild annoyance. Tch. The memories of the previous day settled in his still-foggy mind, confirming that everything had truly happened¡ªthis wasn''t a dream. He was still here, in this grand, unfamiliar world, thrust into an existence that wasn¡¯t meant for him. Turning his head, he noticed a trolley of food placed beside the bed, covered neatly with glass lids. The delicate aroma of warm bread and roasted meat lingered in the air, teasing his appetite. Beside it stood a moveable cloth rack, filled with lavish garments that looked far too extravagant for his taste. ''They''re putting in quite the effort,'' he mused, a wry smile tugging at his lips. He could bet all of this had been prepared for the person originally meant to be in his place. He was an accident¡ªone caused purely by Garhan¡¯s ego. Not that he was complaining. Pushing the soft blanket off his body, Luke swung his legs over the bed, only to be met with the plush sensation of the carpeted floor. Even the floor was absurdly luxurious. Standing up, he stretched once more, his bare torso exposed to the crisp morning air, and made his way toward the bathroom. The moment he entered, his eyes were drawn to the mirror, reflecting a face that had always been his greatest asset. Even back on Earth, his looks were something he took great care of. His well-defined jawline, the slight stubble on his chin, and the sharp contrast of his crystalline blue eyes made him stand out in any crowd. At 6''1, with a well-maintained physique, he exuded a natural presence that made people take notice. Yet, despite his striking appearance, there was something about this world that made him feel out of place. This was a world where power meant more than appearance, where lineage and strength dictated one¡¯s worth. His face, no matter how well-kept, wasn''t solely enough to earn him a place in this world. He sighed, pushing a hand through his slightly disheveled hair before turning his attention to the room around him. The bathroom itself was a marvel¡ªa seamless blend of magic and elegance. The showerhead hovered in midair, glowing with a soft blue light, seemingly waiting to be activated. ¡°¡­How do I turn it on?¡± he muttered, eyeing it with suspicion. There were no taps, no buttons, no visible mechanisms. For several minutes, he poked and prodded, attempting to trigger the shower through sheer willpower. Nothing happened. Letting out a frustrated breath, he stepped out of the bathroom, determined to find someone who could help. The moment he opened the door, he was met with two maids standing in wait. The older of the two, a woman in her late forties with a composed demeanor, bowed slightly upon seeing him. ¡°Good morning, sir. Is there something you need?¡± she asked curtly. Luke hesitated for a moment before awkwardly scratching the back of his head. ¡°Uh, yeah¡­ How do I turn on the showerhead?¡± The older maid simply motioned for him to follow her inside. Standing a few steps away from the shower, she calmly said, ¡°On.¡± Immediately, water gushed out from the showerhead, cascading down in a steady stream with no visible supply. Luke blinked. ¡°Off,¡± the maid continued, and just as suddenly, the water ceased. ¡°¡­That¡¯s it?¡± Luke asked, feeling both dumbfounded and impressed. ¡°Yes, sir. You may also clap twice to activate it,¡± she informed him. ¡°The master has invited you to have breakfast with him if you wake early. Please use the clothes provided and come downstairs once you are ready.¡± Without another word, she exited the room, leaving Luke to process yet another piece of magical absurdity in this world. Shaking his head, he stepped into the shower and let the warm water wash over him. The soap he found had a sweet, herbal fragrance, and as he lathered it onto his skin, he felt an unusual soothing sensation spread across his body. Everything here was different¡ªeven something as simple as bathing felt strangely refined. Once satisfied, he stepped out and grabbed a towel, drying himself off before turning his attention to the array of clothes on the rack. Most of them looked extravagant, filled with intricate embroidery and noble aesthetics, but he managed to find a simpler black outfit. A thin white shirt went under a thick, soft black jacket with neatly placed straps on the left side. He paired it with cream-colored breeches and chocolate-brown leather boots, a combination that was far more formal than what he was used to but still manageable. Running his hands through his damp hair, he did his best to style it without a comb. His fingers worked deftly, arranging his bangs slightly while ensuring the strands settled just right. Appearance was something he had always taken seriously, and even in this world, that habit wasn¡¯t about to change. Once satisfied, he took one last look at himself in the dressing table mirror. Despite the unfamiliar clothing, the face staring back at him was undeniably his. With a final breath, he turned away and stepped out of his room, walking down the lavishly decorated corridor towards the grand staircase. His day had officially begun. As Luke descended the grand staircase, he finally had the opportunity to take in the full beauty of the mansion. The blue and white theme of the estate was breathtaking, exuding an air of elegance and nobility. Magic stones embedded into the walls emitted a soft glow, casting an enchanting radiance across the hallways. The scent of fresh flowers filled the air, carefully arranged in crystal vases along the corridors. Every detail, from the polished marble floors to the intricate tapestries hanging from the high ceiling, spoke of the Timberdell family¡¯s affluence. A butler approached him with a respectful bow. "Young sir, allow me to guide you to the dining area." Luke nodded, following the butler down the left side of the stairs. As they neared their destination, his nose twitched involuntarily. The rich aroma of freshly baked bread, sizzling meats, and sweet pastries flooded his senses, making his stomach stir in anticipation. The fragrance alone was enough to promise a luxurious breakfast. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. The dining area was designed with simplicity and refinement. A long table stretched across the center of the room, adorned with neatly placed tablecloths and gleaming silverware. It was spacious, with several unoccupied chairs suggesting a large household. At the head of the table sat Garhan, his imposing figure relaxed yet commanding. Beside him was a striking middle-aged woman with golden blonde hair, exuding grace and warmth. To Garhan¡¯s right sat a young man around Luke¡¯s age, his white hair mirroring Garhan¡¯s. Across from him, a young woman in her mid-twenties with matching blonde hair dined in silence. Luke inwardly noted that this was likely Garhan¡¯s family. Judging by the number of chairs, there were others not present at the table. As he stepped forward, their gazes turned toward him. He smiled politely, offering a slight bow. ¡°Good morning, hope you are having a good day.¡± The blonde woman¡¯s lips curled into a delighted smile as she brought a hand to her mouth, her expression one of gentle amusement. The young man, on the other hand, looked visibly displeased but said nothing. Luke found it amusing how the son bore the same stiff expression as Garhan. Meanwhile, the young woman didn¡¯t even acknowledge his presence, continuing her breakfast without the slightest interest. Garhan gestured dismissively. ¡°Sit.¡± Without hesitation, Luke strode toward the white-haired young man and took the seat right beside him. The young man stiffened, squirming slightly in irritation before shooting Luke a sharp glare. Luke, however, remained entirely unbothered, maintaining a relaxed posture. A soft chuckle¡ªan elegant ¡°fufu¡±¡ªescaped the blonde woman, clearly entertained by the exchange. Breaking the silence, Luke turned to Garhan. ¡°Are they your children?¡± Garhan¡¯s chest puffed up slightly at the question, pride swelling within him. For those unaware, his children could easily be mistaken for his grandchildren, a thought that always stung his pride. Luke¡¯s direct acknowledgment of them as his children brought him a subtle sense of satisfaction. As someone who aged faster than his peers, he relished these small victories. With a controlled cough, Garhan answered curtly, ¡°Yes.¡± He gestured to the young man beside Luke. ¡°My son, Joe.¡± Then, to the blonde woman across. ¡°My daughter, Rienna.¡± Just as he was about to introduce his wife, Luke¡¯s smooth voice cut in, his lips curving into a charming smile. ¡°And this beautiful lady must be the love of your life.¡± The blonde woman visibly brightened, her delighted expression making her look even more radiant. Meanwhile, Garhan¡¯s jaw tightened, his teeth gritting at Luke¡¯s words.
Damn this slimy bastard, Garhan cursed inwardly. He had met many kinds of people in his life, but the ones he despised the most were those who could talk their way through everything. It was a skill he lacked entirely. As a war general of the Rolhart Kingdom, he was respected for his strength and battlefield prowess, not for eloquence. He had long accepted that warriors should speak with their swords, not their tongues¡ªbut he still found himself annoyed at people like Luke, who made it seem so effortless. Regaining his composure, Garhan exhaled sharply. ¡°¡­Yes. She is my wife, Rani.¡± His tone was clipped, betraying his irritation. He then added, ¡°I have four children. Two of them are not present.¡±
Luke listened attentively as breakfast continued. The food was as delicious as it smelled, each dish bursting with flavor. As he engaged in casual conversation, he gradually pieced together more about this world. As expected, it was a fantasy world¡ªfilled with all the familiar clich¨¦s. Swords and magic were commonplace, and ¡®mana¡¯ powered much of civilization. From elaborate trains to horseless carriages, technology was seamlessly intertwined with magic. The aesthetic of the world resembled a medieval European setting, yet with a layer of refinement and mystical enhancements that set it apart. Garhan, as it turned out, was not just any noble. A proud Viscount of the Rolhart Kingdom, he was both a war general and a noble of considerable influence. His reputation on the battlefield was formidable, and it was clear he held great pride in his status. ¡°Then, these ¡®Earth-dwellers,¡¯ how do they end up here?¡± Luke asked. It was a question Martin had already answered previously, but he wanted to confirm it once more. ¡°To this date, no one knows how or why candidate summoning happens. All the countries of the Grencefert continent have agreed on a treaty to manage and educate these candidates, as they exhibit a higher potential and growth rate than an average Eldorian,¡± Garhan explained. As expected, there wasn¡¯t a clear answer. But Luke caught onto something else from the discussion. ¡°Candidate summoning? Not ¡®Earth-dweller¡¯ summoning?¡± he asked. The term ''candidate'' had been used a bit too much. He needed to understand its true meaning. ¡°Yes. Some call it candidate summoning, some cadet summoning. It can¡¯t be Earth-dweller summoning when people from all sorts of planets are summoned,¡± Garhan replied, casually dabbing his mouth with the napkin tucked into his collar. So Earth isn¡¯t the only planet losing citizens out of the blue, huh? Luke mused. It didn¡¯t really come as a surprise after his own isekai experience. He had decided to take everything as casually as possible¡ªafter all, it had already happened. As he learned more, he discovered that candidates from other planets weren¡¯t even human. Some were orcs, some elves, some dwarves, and other beings he only knew from fiction. They were summoned in groups to different locations, where nobles and high-ranking individuals attended auctions to acquire the races they preferred. Needless to say, as a person who had mingled with all kinds of people, even the weebs, Luke was well-versed in what these creatures were. Humans from Earth, however, were at the bottom when it came to combat ability. Other races had at least some basic training in fighting, self-defense, and mana control before being summoned. But humans had the most flexibility when choosing a ''route'' to take, which made them just as valuable as any other race. Well, at least the talented ones. Luke sighed as he noticed Garhan''s displeased look. It seemed like he had finally remembered Luke''s disastrous stats and class from yesterday. The man was clearly lamenting his luck. ¡°I¡¯ll be taking my leave first,¡± Rienna announced, gracefully standing before leaving the dining area. Joe followed soon after. Garhan, too, departed, instructing Luke to meet Charles, the old butler who had escorted him from the carriage the previous day. Now, only Rani and Luke remained, along with the butler standing discreetly in the distance. Well, this is awkward. Rani, though middle-aged, was as beautiful as a flower. Unlike the others, she had neither ignored him nor shown displeasure. On the contrary, she had maintained a warm smile throughout the meal. After finishing his food, Luke glanced around awkwardly, trying to find an excuse to leave. ¡°You don¡¯t need to be so tense. Relax a bit. You don¡¯t always have to maintain that prim and proper attitude,¡± Rani¡¯s mature voice soothed him, bringing an unexpected sense of comfort. Instead of basking in the sudden relief, Luke immediately checked Rani¡¯s status.
Rani Timberdell Alignment: Good (??) Class: Moon Witch Title: Witch of Remorse | ?? Specialty: ?? Strength: ?? | Agility: ?? | Intelligence: ?? | Divinity: ?? | Luck: ?? | Wisdom: ?? Skills: Silver Tongue | ?? | ?? Overall Rating: A Crouching Tigress.
Sure enough, I can¡¯t let my guard down around anyone here. Luke clicked his tongue. The seemingly warm and approachable Rani was just as dangerous as Garhan. ¡°There you go again. You really don¡¯t trust anyone, do you?¡± Rani remarked, her gentle smile never faltering. Luke felt a chill down his spine¡ªit was as if she was peering directly into his soul. ¡°Ah, then, I¡¯ll be taking my leave now. Have a good day,¡± Luke said hastily, standing up and making his way out of the dining room. The old butler followed right after him. Rani let out a quiet chuckle as she watched the young man retreat. The old man had picked up quite an interestingly incompetent guy. She thought.