Solo Ascension

HOWL!!

‘Heavy. It was so damn heavy.’

Damon Silverstar clenched his teeth, adjusting the canvas backpack higher on his shoulders. The straps dug into his collarbones, tightening against bruised skin. Inside the pack, there were high grade mana potions, spare weapons, and the harvested mana cores of fifty low level monsters. It weighed easily over a hundred pounds.

Damon was an F-Rank Awakened. In the cruel hierarchy of this awakened world, F-Rank meant you were nothing. You were garbage.

"Hurry up, Damon! Stop dragging your feet!"

The arrogant voice echoed through the dark, obsidian cavern. Damon looked up, wiping a mixture of sweat and monster grime from his forehead.

Walking ten paces ahead was Killian, the Golden Boy of the Azure Dragon Guild. Killian was an A-Rank Swordsman, clad in shimmering silver armor that cost more than Damon would earn in a lifetime. Levitating above Killian’s head, there was a faint golden halo: a sign that he was sponsored by the God of Wealth.

Beside Killian walked Myra, an A-Rank Healer sponsored by the God of Light. She wore pristine white robes that somehow repelled the dungeon's dirt.

"Leave him be, Killian," Myra said calmly, her voice dripping with fake pity. "He’s only an F-Rank. His mana channels are practically closed. It’s a miracle he hasn't collapsed from the miasma yet."

Killian scoffed, not even turning around. "He gets paid ten thousand credits to carry our trash. The least the rat can do is keep pace. If he falls behind and gets eaten by a stray goblin, I'm not wasting my sword to save him."

Damon lowered his head, his fingernails biting into his palms. ‘Just endure it’ he told himself. ‘Just endure it for three more hours.’ 

He needed the money. His little sister's hospital bills weren't going to pay themselves. For three years, Damon had swallowed his pride, bowed his head, and acted as the punching bag for elite guilds. He carried their loot, disarmed their traps with his own body, and survived on a stubborn, pathetic will to live.

The party rounded at a corner, the narrow tunnel opening up into a cavernous chamber. The air instantly changed into freezing cold. The mana was so thick it felt like trying to breathe underwater. Stalactites hung like jagged teeth from the ceiling, and in the center of the room stood a set of iron doors.

The Boss Room.

"Alright, listen up," Killian commanded, drawing his shimmering broadsword. "This is an A-Rank Gate. The boss should be a Shadow Minotaur. Daren, you take the violence. Myra, keep your healing spells locked on me. Damon..."

Killian glanced back with a look of pure disgust. "Stay in the corner. Don't move. Don't breathe too loud. If you drop a single potion, I'll cut off your fingers."

"Understood," Damon muttered, backing away toward the jagged cavern wall.

CRANKKK!

Daren, the A-Rank Tank, stepped forward and pushed the iron doors open. They groaned loudly, echoing into the pitch black abyss beyond.

The party stepped inside. Damon watched from the threshold, dropping the heavy backpack with a quiet thud to massage his aching shoulders.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, the darkness inside the boss room moved. It wasn't a Shadow Minotaur. A pair of burning, azure eyes ignited in the dark, hovering ten feet in the air. A sudden wave of killing intent blasted out of the room, so powerful that it staggered Damon backward. He crashed into the stone wall, coughing up blood.

‘What... What is that?’ Damon thought, his vision obscuring.

Inside the room, Daren screamed. A massive blade, black as the void and dripping with dark miasma, swung out of the shadows. It cleaved right through Daren’s enchanted steel shield like it was made of wet paper. The Tank's body was sent flying, crashing into a pillar with a sickening crunch. 

"Daren!" Myra shrieked, her face turning pale with terror.

The boss stepped into the dim light. It was an Abyssal Death Knight. An S-Rank catastrophe monster. It wore rusted, spiked armor, and its flesh was nothing but swirling shadows.

"S-Rank..." Killian stammered, his usual arrogance vanishing. His sword trembled in his hands. "The intel was wrong. The Guild's intel was wrong! We can't fight this!"

"Heal him! Myra, heal Daren!" Killian yelled, backing away expeditiously.

Myra cast a frantic stream of golden light toward the fallen Tank, but the Abyssal Knight merely turned its head. It raised a gauntlet, and a pulse of dark magic shattered Myra’s spell instantly. The Knight took a step forward. The ground petrified beneath its boots.

Killian’s eyes darted around frantically. He looked at the monster, then at the exit, and finally... his eyes landed on Damon.

A cold feeling rushed over Damon's stomach. He recognized that look. He had seen it in the eyes of desperate men before.

"K-Killian?" Myra sobbed, gripping her staff. "What do we do? The portal crystal takes ten seconds to charge!"

"We need a distraction," Killian whispered. His voice was devoid of its earlier bravado. It was just the ugly sound of a coward trying to survive.

Before Damon could react, Killian dashed out of the boss room. But he didn't run toward the exit tunnel. He ran straight at Damon.

"Wait! What are you doing?!" Damon yelled, trying to scramble backward.

"Sorry, trash. Your life finally has value," Killian snarled.

A flash of silver light blinded Damon.

SHINK!!

Pain. Unimaginable agony exploded in Damon's right leg. He looked down, his mind blank. Killian’s broadsword had sliced clean through the back of Damon’s knee, severing the tendons and biting deep into the bone.

Blood sprayed across the cold stone floor.

Damon opened his mouth to scream, but Killian kicked him hard in the chest, sending Damon tumbling into the center of the boss room's doorway.

"Myra! Charge towards the crystal, now!" Killian roared, already sprinting past the wounded Tank and down the exit tunnel.

Myra hesitated for a fraction of a second, looking at Damon’s bleeding body on the floor. Then, tears streaming down her face, she pulled a blue crystal from her pocket and crushed it. A portal of light swallowed her, leaving her behind.

They were gone. Damon lay on the cold stone, his blood pooling around him. His leg was useless. The pain was so intense it was making him nauseous, his vision fading in and out of black.

Betrayed. After three years of eating dirt, taking insults, and working his fingers to the bone, they cut him down just to buy ten seconds of time.

THUD!! THUD!!

Heavy, armored footsteps echoed through the chamber. The Abyssal Death Knight stood over him. The monster raised its massive black greatsword, preparing to execute the pathetic insect at its feet.

‘I'm going to die,’ Damon realized. ‘In this dark, filthy cave. I'm going to die as F-Rank trash.’ 

Tears of burning resentment leaked from his eyes. He didn't want to die. He hated them. He hated Killian, he hated Myra, he hated the Guilds, and most of all, he hated his own pathetic weakness.

Suddenly, time seemed to freeze. The descending blade of the Abyssal Knight halted an inch from Damon's neck. The mana in the room stopped wavering.

A translucent blue screen popped up in front of Damon’s fading eyes.

[System Notice!]

[Host's vitality is dropping below 5%. Death is imminent.]

[The Universal Livestream System has determined you are in a crisis scenario.]

[Initiating Emergency Broadcast Protocol...]

Damon coughed, blood spilling from his lips. ‘The Livestream System? Only high-ranking Awakened were allowed to broadcast their lives to the Gods to earn Karma Points and blessings.’

[Channel: F-Rank Awakened 'Damon Silverstar' is now LIVE.]

[Viewer Count: 0]

[Searching for Constellation Sponsors...]

A series of notifications pinged one by one.

[The God of War has glanced at your channel and scoffed at your weak physique. He has left.]

[The God of Light is disgusted by your resentment. She has left.]

[The God of Wealth sees no profit in a dying F-Rank. He has left.]

[The God of Magic finds your mana core pathetic. He has left.]

[The God of Mischief is bored by your tragedy. He has left.]

[The God of Death is patiently waiting to collect your soul. He refuses to sponsor you.]

Damon let out a broken, choked laugh. “Of course.” 

Even the Gods thought he was trash. He closed his eyes, ready to accept the blade. Then, the blue system screen glitched.

The soft blue light turned into a crimson red. The text began to distort, the system itself seemingly trembling.

[WARNING. WARNING.]

[An unregistered Sovereign has breached the channel.]

[Viewer Count: 1]

[The Goddess of Fate has entered your stream.]

Damon forced his eyes open. The crimson screen was different. There was no majestic announcement. Just a chat box that began to scroll up.

[Goddess of Fate]: Ah...

[Goddess of Fate]: I found you.

[Goddess of Fate]: I finally found you.

Damon stared at the floating words. ‘Found me? Who was this?’

[Goddess of Fate]: You are bleeding.

[Goddess of Fate]: Who made you bleed? Was it that silver haired pest? I will slay him alive. I will rip out his spine. I will erase his bloodline from the tapestry of existence.

[Goddess of Fate]: It hurts, doesn't it? My poor, beautiful Damon.

The messages were coming so fast, dripping with an unsettling intensity. The aura radiating from the screen was heavier than the S-Rank monster standing above him. It was an aura of pure, suffocating obsession.

[System Prompt!]

[The Goddess of Fate has offered you an Exclusive Constellation Contract.]

[Terms of Contract:]

The Goddess of Fate will rewrite your imminent death.

The Goddess of Fate will grant you mythical tier power to crush your enemies.

In exchange, your past, present, and future belong solely to her. You will never look at another. You will never worship another. You are hers, until the stars burn out and the universe crumbles to dust.

[Do you accept? Y/N]

Damon stared at the crimson text. The terms were insane. It was a collar. It was slavery to a deity he didn't even know. But as he felt his heartbeat slowing down, as the cold grip of death wrapped around his throat, the burning hatred in his chest increased.

He remembered Killian's arrogant smile. He remembered Myra's fake pity. He remembered the three years of being treated like a dog. If selling his soul to a psychotic, obsessed Goddess was the price to pay for revenge... so be it.

"I... accept!" Damon rasped, his voice barely a whisper.

[Contract Confirmed.]

The moment the words left his mouth, the entire dungeon shook.

[The Goddess of Fate is smiling.]

[The Goddess of Fate has donated 10,000,000 Karma Points!]

[The Goddess of Fate has gifted you the Mythic Tier Item: 'Severance of Destiny'.]

A massive pillar of crimson light crashed through the ceiling of the cavern, obliterating the rock and bathing Damon in a shimmering glow.

ROARRR!

The S-Rank Abyssal Death Knight let out a roar of fear, stumbling backward as the sheer pressure of the descending light crushed its armor.

Inside the light, Damon felt the agonizing pain in his leg vanish. Muscle, tendon, and bone knitted together in seconds. A surge of power, a dark, and overwhelmingly vast power flooded into his dead mana channels, tearing them wide open.

He slowly stood up. The bloody clothes of an F-Rank porter burned away, replaced by a sleek, black coat woven with faint crimson threads.

In his right hand, a weapon formed. It was a long, curved scythe. The blade wasn't made of metal, but of hardened blood that hummed with the power to cut through space itself.

Damon lifted his head. His eyes, once dull and defeated, now shining with a chilling, crimson light. He looked at the tall Abyssal Death Knight. The monster, which had scared A-Rank hunters a minute ago, was now trembling on its knees.

A single message popped up on the crimson screen hovering beside him.

[Goddess of Fate]: Show me. Show me how beautiful you are when you kill, my love.

Damon gripped the scythe, a cold smile spreading across his face. "Gladly.”