Pain exploded in his chest—hot, blinding, and raw.
Azvoid Larkson staggered back, one hand clamped over his ribs as something unseen tore through flesh, bone… and something deeper. He'd been lying in his creaky bed seconds ago, staring at the water-stained ceiling. Now?
Now it felt like the universe had reached inside and lit a match.
Ding!
System has identified a compatible host: Final living descendant of the Ancient Primordial Dragons.
Initiating merge…
"What… the hell…?" he rasped, knees buckling.
It wasn't just pain—it was transformation. Like fire crawling beneath his skin, setting nerve endings alight.
He didn't scream, he wouldn't give anything that satisfaction.
Azvoid had been broken before.
Abandoned starved and forgotten.
This wasn't the worst he'd felt and it probably wasn't death, it felt more like a threshold of some sort.
His obsidian eyes squeezed shut, not in fear, but focus. Not a single tear escaped.
Merge complete.
System successfully bound.
Welcome, Host. You are now connected to the Primordial Dragon Beast Tamer System.
And just like that, the world tilted.
Azvoid Larkson's story stopped being a quiet tragedy and became something else entirely.
***
Earlier that evening…
Under an open sky, beside a slow-moving river, Azvoid sat cross-legged on a stone platform, breathing slow, steady. The moon cast silver light over the rippling water, and the air smelled faintly of earth and rain.
Purple strands of hair brushed his shoulders, swaying in the breeze. His eyes remained closed—twin voids behind shut lids, cold and silent as the night.
Inhale. Hold. Exhale.
He'd done this ritual every night for years. Alone, always alone.
And yet he stayed.
Still, patient and waiting.
His mind wandered, uninvited, to the things he couldn't forget.
Parents lost to some expedition no one cared to explain. A boy left behind, six years old, scraping by in alleyways while the world passed him by. The hunger, the cold, the silence. He'd stopped crying before he learned how to beg.
The world had already decided what he was worth.
He'd just never agreed.
A smirk curled one corner of his lips.
They thought he was a weak powerless piece of trash.
They didn't see the thing buried inside him, the thing that refused to die.
That quiet, insatiable need for strength.
"If I had awakened... would they still spit when they said my name?" he murmured, the words barely louder than the wind.
That didn't matter anymore now because tomorrow was his sixteenth birthday.
Tomorrow was Awakening Day.
***
Planet Arcadia wasn't a place for the kind or the careful. Power dictated everything, from a man's life to the shape of cities. Thousands of years ago, when beasts poured through rifts and the skies burned, humanity changed. Adapted and evolved.
Now, society revolved around the System.
A single Awakening could define a person's entire life. There were three known paths:
Warriors—those who embodied brute force.
Magus—those who bent mana to their will.
Summoners—those who forged soul-bonds with beasts.
Ranks defined potential, from the hopeless F-rank to the mythic SSS-tier. The higher the talent, the steeper the climb—and the more the world took notice.
Azvoid didn't expect miracles.
But he still hoped.
***
The city gates of Maelstrom glowed faintly beneath the night sky, their reinforced alloy glinting under drone-lights. Patrols moved with lazy familiarity, their attention already dulled by routine.
Azvoid strode up the path, steps light but unhurried.
"I'm back, Dimitri."
The guard, a mountain of a man with a bit of a stubble, gave him a tired once-over. "Damn it, kid. You keep wandering past curfew like you're immortal."
"I'm careful," Azvoid said, holding up his scuffed ID card.
Dimitri sighed but waved him through. "More stubborn than smart. You'll fit right in someday."
The outskirts of Maelstrom were all rust and broken dreams. Azvoid passed flickering streetlamps and boarded windows, the hum of distant power lines overhead. His building leaned slightly to one side, like even concrete had grown weary.
He fiddled with the key until the door finally groaned open.
"Piece of junk," he muttered.
A sound made him pause, the creak of a nearby door. A girl peered out, long black hair veiling most of her pale face. They locked eyes for half a heartbeat.
She said nothing.
Neither did he.
The door clicked shut again.
Azvoid stepped inside, letting silence swallow him. His apartment smelled faintly of dust and old wiring. One bed, one shelf, one ceiling fan that hadn't spun in years.
It was pathetic but It was home.
He collapsed onto the mattress, hands behind his head, eyes fixed on the cracks above.
"Tomorrow," he whispered.
But fate didn't give a damn about schedules.
***
Ding!
System has identified compatible host: Final living descendant of the Ancient Primordial Dragons.
Beginning integration in 10… 9… 8…
Azvoid jolted upright, breath catching.
"What… is this…?"
Then came the pain.
It was… indescribable. Muscles spasmed. Bones cracked. His veins burned. It was as if something primal was trying to unmake him, to peel him open and pour something new inside.
His throat locked around a scream, but it never escaped.
He grit his teeth.
He endured.
This wasn't the first time he'd suffered. It just happened to be the first time it meant something.
Then, suddenly, it stopped.
Integration complete.
System online.
Welcome, Host. You are now bound to the Primordial Dragon Beast Tamer System.
Azvoid's body trembled.
He blinked—and a translucent screen blinked to life before him, layered with stats and unreadable symbols.
He stared at it. Then, for the first time in years, he laughed.
Not the bitter kind, the kind that said:
It's my fucking turn now...