---
Aster drifted.
Not like falling asleep, not like waking. Not even quite dreaming. More like floating, caught between two worlds that bled into one another—half-remembered, half-imagined.
The air around him felt thick, sticky, like honey poured through time itself. His body didn't respond to commands, his limbs neither heavy nor light, suspended in a strange limbo where gravity lost its meaning.
Around him, fragments of his mind fractured like shards of shattered glass, each reflecting a different version of himself.
One self — a boy no older than ten — sat on the cracked windowsill of their old childhood apartment. The glass was smeared with rain, casting blurry shadows on his small, pale face. His eyes were wide, desperate, searching for something beyond the cracked pane. Outside, the world was quiet, but the silence screamed louder than any thunderstorm. He wanted to shout but couldn't, trapped in a bubble of fear.
Another self stood in the long, cold corridor of the academy. The walls stretched infinitely in both directions, fluorescent lights flickering overhead. His shoulders were tense, jaw clenched tight, veins pulsing with anger that simmered like molten iron beneath his skin. This self was ready to fight, ready to break everything in his path, but trapped in silence.
And then, there was the silent one — bleeding, still, eyes closed — pierced through the heart by a gleaming white scythe: Leukolepida. The scythe's radiant blade seemed to burn with an inner light, cold and unforgiving, its edges shimmering like cracked ice beneath a cruel sun. The bleeding self did not cry out. It did not even blink.
Between these fractured selves, the dreamscape twisted — the sky above bleeding into a deep crimson, streaked with black lightning that crackled without sound. The ground beneath his feet dissolved into mist, and distant echoes of whispered memories floated on the wind, half-forgotten voices calling his name.
Aster tried to move, to reach out to one of these selves, to steady the chaos, but his hands passed through air like smoke.
Then the system voice came, but it was different here — glitchy, distorted, like a corrupted file struggling to load.
> [...Wel--co--me to the C--lass Awak--ening Inter--face...]
[Mind Sync Requ--ired...]
[In--itiating S--oul Res--onance...]
The words stuttered and warped, echoing inside his skull with a strange reverberation that sent shards of static stabbing through his thoughts.
The voice was both familiar and alien — neither cold machine nor warm human, but something caught between states, like a ghost caught in the wires.
A prompt flickered in the air before him, bright white and pulsing:
> [Name your Path.]
...
"What?"
His mind screamed sarcastically: "Oh sure, just let me pick my life purpose on the spot. How about 'Professional Coffee Drinker' or 'Sarcasm Overlord'?"
No answer came. The prompt blinked, waiting.
He tried again, voice low and dry in his head:
> "Fine. Survivor. Because that's all I've ever been."
Aster said knowing he had to say the truth even though it was embarrassing as hell
The prompt shimmered.
> [Define your Strength.]
He smirked inside, despite the ache.
'Can you like not ask embarrassing questions '
> "Sarcasm and caffeine. That's gotta count, right?"
Static crackled like a whip.
> [Invalid. Pain Feedback: 12%]
The laughter died in his throat.
Each time he tried to joke or deflect, the system pushed back with cold, unyielding pressure — a rising wave of pain that burrowed deep inside, twisting nerves and memory alike.
It was as if the system demanded honesty, no matter how ugly or terrifying.
> [What do you fear the most?]
'its like it heard me and decided not to care'
Aster's mind raced, scrambling through memories.
The fear was buried deep, but it was there — raw and bitter.
The fear of fading away, becoming nothing.
Of being forgotten, erased from existence as if he never mattered.
He swallowed hard.
> "I'm scared of… not being remembered. Of not being worth the space I take up."
The system didn't respond with pain this time.
Instead, a strange warmth blossomed, like a faint ember glowing in the cold dark.
The dreamscape shifted.
---
---
The crimson sky fractured and reformed, shifting like oil on water. The fractured selves faded into shadows, leaving only one Aster, standing in a boundless void of shifting light and noise—a place where time tangled and stretched like a cruel joke.
Before him, a series of translucent, shimmering panels hovered midair, each flickering like dying stars. The interface of the system glitched in and out of existence, a digital specter struggling to hold form. Words bled into the void:
> [Name your Path.]
> [Define your Strength.]
> [What do you fear the most?]
'Wow is this like a spell chant'
The words were simple, but the weight behind them was anything but simple.
Aster clenched his fists. He wanted to reject it all, to burn the system to ash and spit on the pieces. But the pain—the cold knife twisting in his chest since loosing to nina —reminded him he couldn't. Not yet.
He knew this was more than just a choice. This was a crucible.
He exhaled slowly.
First, the path.
He glanced at the first flickering option on the panel:
[Class: Trickster] — "Master of illusions, chaos incarnate, forever dancing on the edge of sanity and reality."
"Uhh it does sound cool but I don't want to go insane "
He sneered internally. The word "trickster" felt like a joke. A mask he'd worn too long. He reached for it and the option shattered, scattering sparks like glass.
"Didn't even give me a choice huh"
Next:
[Class: Survivor] — "Endurer of endless storms, bearer of scars both seen and unseen, soul tempered by unyielding will."
The words flickered, but the option remained fragile, unstable. Like him. Incomplete.
He reached out, feeling the tremble in the air around the text, but it slipped through his fingers.
The third shimmer solidified, a blade of white light cutting through the darkness:
[Class: Broken Knight] — "A warrior shattered and reforged, bound by pain and honor, walking a lonely path of redemption and ruin."
His chest tightened at the words. It resonated in a way he wasn't ready to admit.
He nodded silently.
A soft pulse radiated from the panel, and a new name burned into existence:
> [Class Assigned: Paradox Knight]
"Did you run out of ink why is it blank"
The letters glowed, folding into one another like ribbons of light.
A description unfurled beneath:
> One who walks with contradiction. Empowered by doubt. Weaponized by resolve.
> Passive: Blade of Contradiction – Gain strength when reality frays. Resist lies—especially your own.
> Active: Radiant Rejection – Unlocked at 20% Sync.
The words shimmered and burned like a beacon and a warning.
The system voice returned, clearer but still carrying that strange, almost sorrowful undertone.
> [Class Sync Initiated.]
[Soul Resonance in progress.]
[Warning: Emotional Stability Critical.]
Aster felt something deep inside him fracture further, as if the old version of himself was being broken down, stripped away.
He felt the cold edge of resolve sharpen inside the wreckage of doubt and pain.
Questions flickered:
> [What is your greatest weakness?]
His breath hitched.
This time, he did not joke.
He whispered inside, raw and true:
> "That I care too much. That I bleed for things I shouldn't."
" i hope im right because if i said that and it isn't true i m going to die from embarrassment"
The system pulsed like a heartbeat.
A vision blossomed before him: the scythe, Leukolepida, its white blade fracturing and reforming in his hands, glowing with a cold, radiant light.
The blade hummed—a paradox of beauty and terror, purity and ruin.
It was not just a weapon.
It was a part of him now.
---
---
The moment the system pulsed the words about Leukolepida, the world around Aster began to warp violently.
The crimson sky twisted into an abyssal vortex that sucked away color and sound.
Out of the swirling void stepped a figure—a silhouette drenched in shadows, impossibly tall, with eyes like burning coals piercing the darkness.
The figure's presence was oppressive, like a storm pressing on his chest.
It didn't speak immediately. Instead, it let the silence grow, thick and suffocating.
Then, with a voice both distant and intimate—like a whisper crawling under his skin—it spoke:
"You shouldn't exist."
The words cut deeper than any blade. Aster's heartbeat faltered, and his soul trembled beneath the weight.
The figure stepped closer, and the edges of its form blurred, becoming indistinct, like smoke struggling to hold shape.
"But neither should I."
The paradox hung between them like a knife poised to strike.
Aster's mind screamed to flee, but his body remained frozen—tied to the system's cruel mercy.
Before he could respond, the system abruptly shattered the scene.
---
> [Soul Resonance Interrupted.]
[Emergency Extraction Initiated.]
[Warning: Synchronization Failure Detected.]
[Pulling back consciousness…]
---
The fractured mental landscape collapsed like a dying star imploding inward.
Aster felt himself pulled violently through layers of fading dream and raw reality.
The cold rush of air hit his skin. His lungs screamed for breath.
---
He gasped awake.
The ruined hallway of the academy greeted him with harsh fluorescent light flickering overhead.
Dust motes floated like ghosts in the stale air.
His hair, once green as a forest had become as dark as midnight , and for some reasson now was streaked with strands of white—subtle, but undeniable.
'What is this do they think that just by changing my hair colour i m going to be stronger'
Leukolepida lay beside him, its blade softly pulsing with a spectral glow, like a heartbeat in the silence.
'Also now that there weren't any demons chasing me what is that name it sounds like gibberish leukolepida'
He reached out and felt the familiar weight—the paradox made real.
But the relief was short-lived.
Sorin was gone.
And before he could criticise him for leaving in his place was a strange mark on the wall—an intricate sigil glowing faintly in icy blue.
Aster's eyes narrowed.
A message, or a warning?
His system flickered to life beside him:
> [Class Awakening Complete.]
[New Quests Available.]
[Warning: Soul-Stability 46% – Monitor Emotional Integrity Closely.]
The cold calculation that had begun breaking him deepened, sharpening.
Aster clenched his jaw.
The path ahead wasn't just survival anymore.
It was war with himself.
---
Also I didn't right it before but thanks for 10k views!!!!!!!!