The cave was silent, save for the crackle of dying embers from last night's fire. Adam sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor, the ancient book—Nine Chaotic Worlds—spread open before him. Moonlight spilled through the cave entrance, casting jagged shadows across the pages like grasping fingers.
He had been reading for hours, eyes burning, mind reeling.
And now, as the truth settled over him, he couldn't stay silent.
Adam exhaled, his breath misting in the chill air. Then, softly at first, he began to speak—to the cave, to the emptiness, to himself.
"I thought the system was just… how things worked."
His fingers brushed across the brittle, yellowed pages.
"You fight. You gain experience. You level up. That's how awakened get stronger. That's what everyone believes."
A bitter laugh escaped his throat.
"But this?" he whispered. "This changes everything."
He leaned forward, eyes narrowing, voice tightening with something between awe and fury.
"The leveling system isn't natural. It's not some divine gift. It's a cage."
His knuckles whitened against the paper as he clenched his fists.
"Think about it. You kill monsters, you get stronger—but you don't know how. You don't understand the energy flowing through you. The system just tells you you're stronger. It hands you power like scraps to a dog, and you're supposed to be grateful."
His gaze flicked toward his status screen—still hovering faintly in the corner of his vision, unchanging.
Name: Adam Carter
Level: 0
Core Trait: Seeker of Truth
Ability: Insight
"Level Zero," he muttered. "That's what I am. That's what I've always been. Because my ability isn't combat-related—it doesn't help me fight. It's meant for something else."
His jaw tightened. His eyes burned, not from exhaustion—but from the slow, rising fire of understanding.
"But this book… this cultivation method… it doesn't care about levels. It doesn't care about arbitrary numbers. It's about control. About understanding. About taking the energy of the world and making it yours."
He flipped the page, revealing a detailed diagram of the first stage: the Mortal Realm—foundation of all cultivation.
"Look at this. Ten layers. Ten deliberate, conscious steps to refine your body. Not just 'gain experience and wait for a reward.' No. You work. You struggle. You earn every drop of power."
His voice dropped to a whisper, heavy with revelation.
"And the awakened?" he said. "They don't even realize they're like puppets."
A memory surfaced—Garrett, the expedition leader. Tall, broad-shouldered, invincible. Level 42. A veteran. He had crushed a stone door barehanded when their team got trapped in a ruin.
"Garrett could smash boulders with a flick of his wrist," Adam muttered. "But if you asked him how, he'd shrug and say, 'That's what Level 42 does.'"
Adam's lips curled.
"Pathetic."
He turned another page, faster this time, his pulse quickening. A chart compared cultivation stages to system levels—a crude attempt to translate the two paths.
"And the strongest awakened?" Adam said. "Level 69. Sixty-nine. Do you know what that means in cultivation?"
He tapped the page sharply.
"Not even halfway."
He stood, the book in one hand, his voice rising with righteous anger.
"They get stronger without direction. They climb a ladder that leads nowhere, thinking they're gods—because they've never seen the real sky."
He drew a slow breath. The cave air was cold and thin, but he didn't shiver. Something inside him was burning now. A conviction. A choice.
"But I'm not stuck," he said. "I'm Level Zero. The system ignored me. I never received combat blessings, never gained a class or a skill tree."
He smiled.
"And now… I'm free."
Adam dropped to his knees and slammed the book shut, dust spiraling into the air like smoke.
"I'll walk the Nine Chaotic Worlds," he whispered. "I'll build foundations where they have none. And when I'm strong enough…"
His eyes gleamed, sharp and determined in the darkness.
"I'll tear the damn system apart."
The First Step
He sat down again, slower this time, controlled. His breathing calmed. His thoughts sharpened.
The instructions from the book were engraved into his mind now—etched like scars from truth.
He closed his eyes.
Breathe in. Draw the energy. Not blindly—guide it.
His Insight ability stirred.
Suddenly, the cave was no longer just rock and air. It became a tapestry—a luminous web of shimmering mana, threads of power winding through the air, coiling beneath the earth, dancing above the firepit.
Adam's breath caught.
So this… this was the world as it truly was.
He reached toward it—not with reverence, not as a beggar waiting for a divine gift—but with will.
Mine, he thought.
The energy resisted. It was wild, raw, unbound. It pushed back against him like a current against a swimmer.
Adam's brow furrowed. His will hardened.
Mine.
He tugged. Focused. Aligned his breath with the rhythm of the world, guided by the map the book had etched in his thoughts.
A spark. A flicker.
Then—pain.
White-hot agony lanced through his chest, spreading like fire through invisible veins. His muscles locked. His back arched. He gasped, teeth clenched, as energy forced its way into his untempered meridians.
It felt like his blood had turned to molten iron.
But through the agony… was power.
Real power. Unfiltered. Untamed.
Not granted. Taken.
Adam gritted his teeth as tears slid down his cheeks, unbidden. His breath turned ragged. His bones felt like they were grinding against one another.
But he didn't stop.
His Insight allowed him to see what others couldn't—the way the energy moved, the way it settled, the way it resisted.
So he adapted.
He shifted the flow, softened his grip, coaxed instead of commanded—until the pain dulled, just slightly. Until the stream began to obey.
He drew the energy down, letting it flow through his bones, blood, and flesh. One thread. Then another. And another.
Each one left searing trails in its wake—but he endured it. He welcomed it.
Hours passed.
The fire was long gone. Frost crept along the cave walls. But inside Adam, something was beginning to change.