Ultimate NeroMancer

CHAPTER 1: Class Day, Doomsday

"Listen up, cunts. This is the final opportunity. A final awakening ceremony. If you still don’t awaken today, congratulations, you're officially an Ordinary. That translates to a mediocre-ass university and a life of mediocrity. You can still grind your cultivation a little bit until the Academy exams, but, in reality? This is it."

The voice of the teacher was breaking in the auditorium like a judgment of God through a weary man in starched polyester. Before him was a crowd of about a hundred students, all jammed together shoulder to shoulder, and all with a mixture of sweat, desperation, and youthful delusion on their faces.

Among these was Kaelen.

Kaelen was not of this world. Technically, Kaelen was not even Kaelen. Three weeks ago he had crash-landed into this life, fired into this new flesh like a cosmic bullet of bad timing. It is the same name, but a different soul. He had been dumped here by a tragic medical discharge out of his old world, stage four cancer and zero plot armor.

And now? He was 18, rebooted into a meat-suit in someone else memories and was waiting in line to touch a glowing ball that could, possibly, with the right alignment of the stars and the universe in a horny mood, grant him a superpower.

In this world, all 16-18 year olds had an opportunity to awaken a class. One moment you're just a civilian struggling with acne and your parents’ expectations, and the next, you're sprouting spectral weapons and spitting lightning bolts like it’s prom night.

The apocalypse munched on civilization more than two centuries ago, as though it were an all-you-can-eat buffet of structural collapse. The skies were ripped open by spatial rifts, spewing monsters, insanity, and tax evasion in metaphysics into reality. Then the Awakeners came: those few who were selected to attend classes that connected them to a game-like Otherworld full of riches, battles, and more plot hooks than a dark tavern.

With the world digitized for these blessed bastards, humanity managed to push the apocalypse back into its hell-hole. And as expected, society kneeled and kissed the boots of its new magical elite.

That’s why today mattered. For these kids—this pack of hormonal, last-chance hopefuls—awakening meant purpose. It meant survival. It meant finally being more than some weak-boned NPC shuffling through life with a student loan and a therapist who doesn't answer emails.

Kaelen, despite being a newbie in this reality, understood what was at stake. This wasn't just a ceremony. This was a baptism. A judgment. A cosmic talent show with divine consequences.

The teacher reached for a thin file on the podium, cracked it open, and began reading names with the emotional investment of a vending machine.

"Lilian Stone."

"Y-Yes, sir!"

Lilian stumbled forward like her shoes were rebelling against gravity. She barely caught herself before eating the marble floor. No one laughed. Today wasn’t a day for mockery. Everyone here knew they were one failed light show away from being nobodies.

The teacher nodded like he’d seen this all before. He probably had.

"This is your third attempt. You know the drill. Touch the orb. If it glows, you're in. If it doesn't... well."

He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to. The silence that followed was louder than any speech.

Kaelen’s eyes flicked to the orb on the podium. It looked like something from a sleek sci-fi museum—perfectly round, transparent, glowing faintly with a blue pulse that reminded him of a heartbeat stuck between life and reboot. From what he'd gathered, this artifact didn’t just test potential. It linked you to that world. The Game World. The one filled with dungeons, loot, broken mechanics, and power fantasies.

The orb was how you proved you belonged in a story worth telling.

Lilian approached, hands shaking. She placed them on the orb like it might bite, and for a moment, nothing happened.

Then came the light.

A brilliant white flare shot up from the orb, almost singing, as twin swords materialized behind her in glowing silhouette before dissolving into ether.

"Lilian Stone has awakened: Martial Artist!" the teacher said, eyes widening with actual, visible surprise. That wasn’t acting. That was real shock. Most kids her age were beyond the ideal awakening window. At 18, your odds dropped harder than a level-one rogue in lava.

The silence cracked instantly.

“Lilian awakened?”

“No way.”

“Guess being early finally paid off?”

“I’m not bitter. I’m just saying, if she can do it, I should be able to, too.”

“Shut up, Darren. You failed math.”

“I deserve to cope. Don’t take my bitterness from me.”

Kaelen allowed himself a smirk. It was encouraging, sure. But he wasn’t here for inspiration. He was here to cheat death, win the game, and maybe—just maybe—feel like he had some control this time around.

Then it started.

“Mia Keem, awakening failed.”

“Bruce Leen, awakening failed.”

“Lars Den, awakening failed.”

The names rolled forward like a funeral procession, each announcement another nail in someone’s coffin of dreams. By the time they hit number forty-eight, the mood had collapsed entirely. The room sounded like the aftermath of a high-stakes exam—whispers, stifled sobs, and the cold silence of crushed expectations.

Kaelen exhaled slowly and closed his eyes.

His turn was coming.

And whether it burned or bloomed, he wasn’t going to flinch.