She left when he was just about to turn six. The day before his birthday. He never blamed her. He saw the shiner and knew exactly what happened. Danial never hit his children; he called Dane his little warrior, his wrestler-in-training. But he looked at Rebecca with disgust and revulsion. That was a long time ago. It was funny, people have a way of turning the past into something beautiful and remembering about better times that weren't actually better. But Dane's mind worked differently; he held onto the bad. His uncle had always told him that the axe forgot, but the tree remembered, and he kept every chop in his soul.
Since the end of the world, it had been just Rebecca and him. The Earthbound communal zones weren't exactly prisons, but they weren't a home either. The elves who ran the place had gotten better with time. They gave out rations, clothing, and education. A few of the older homeless in the camps said it was better than anything they'd had before the invasion. Dane didn't care. Tomorrow was his sixteenth birthday. He would be a man, in the eyes of the System, and the following week, he would be issued his gear and shipped off to the war front.
The sun was still setting, casting long shadows and setting the sky ablaze with orange and gold. He heard footsteps and didn't have to look to know it was Rebecca.
"You know, weigh-ins are at five a.m., right?" she asked, her voice light, but with an edge of concern.
"I know," He said, eyes on the clouds. "Just wanted to remember Mom a little longer."
She hesitated, then sat beside her older brother. "Can I lie next to you?"
"Always."
She settled in beside him, shoulder brushing his, and they watched the sky in silence for a while.
"Do you ever think about what she'd say if she saw us now?" Rebecca asked quietly.
"She'd probably tell me to stop brooding and wash behind my ears."
Rebecca snorted. "She always said you had dirt in places dirt had no business being."
"She wasn't wrong."
They sat for a long while, not saying anything to each other, and the sun had almost completely disappeared behind the reclaimed buildings. Then, Rebecca's voice softened. "Are you scared?"
"A big brother's never scared," Dane said, while grinning as if he had practised that line in the mirror.
"Liar."
He reached over and tousled her hair like he used to when they were little. "In three years, you'll be standing where I am. So don't act like you're not thinking about it, too."
"I am. But I'm still twelve. That gives me time."
"Time goes faster when you're counting down to something awful."
She didn't argue. Instead, she curled in closer. "Don't die, okay?"
"I'm planning on living to a hundred and fifty."
"You better aim higher than E-rank," she said, nudging him.
"Come on, Rebecca. You know, only one in a hundred makes it past E-rank. Humans die too fast on the battlefield."
"Still. Who wants to brag their brother was just average?" she teased.
Dane looked at her, really taking in her appearance. Her dark hair was pulled back into a messy braid. She wore the same worn fatigues as the others, but she carried herself with quiet confidence. She was smart. Quicker on the uptake than he ever was. And more than that, she was kind. It hurt to look at her now; she was becoming more like their mother every day. He wanted his goofy little sister back, the one who didn't make his chest tighten when he looked at her.
"I'm going to make it," He said. "I'll earn my points, get promoted, and buy my citizenship."
"And then you'll come back for me?"
"I'll do more than that. I'll buy both of us out. We'll get a place somewhere the war doesn't reach. You'll have your own room with books and real food."
She smiled at that. "What about Dad?"
"You know he's not coming back."
"Good." It slipped out before she knew it. Dane saw regret in her eyes, but also a challenge, like she dared him to defend their old man.
They lay together until the last of the light vanished.
"Tomorrow everything changes," He said.
Rebecca squeezed Dane's hand.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
"Alright, little sister, it's time for bed," He said with authority.
But sleep didn't come easily. He lay in the lumpy old cot, nerves chewing through him like rats in the walls. He wanted to become a conscripted warrior. The caste system crushed anyone without talent. But he had strength; Dane was the best fighter in the school. Fighting meant faster leveling. And the System rewarded those who pushed their limits.
Dawn broke before Dane was ready, and with it came the first wave of inspections. He scrambled out of bed quickly, tucking in the corners of his scratchy wool blanket, threw on the issued rags that grew another hole miraculously overnight, and grabbed his only two possessions from the old world: a potion he received from his first kill and the shattered weapon.
They'd found him and his sister five years ago, surviving alone in the ruins of Glenwood. The monsters had overrun the town. Every day, they mutated and grew to massive sizes. After the first few weeks, they could no longer fight back; they could only run and hide.
His father's obsession with keeping antique weapons within reach of small children is what saved them. His pride and joy was a 1700s rapier he'd kept above the mantle, which was the only thing between life and death. All he had now was the hilt and two inches of blade left. The dagger held painful memories, but Dane couldn't bring himself to toss out the good-luck charm.
"All sixteen or older, line up!" the elf auditor barked.
The command came from a hulking elf; he was definitely a half-blood. His ears were blunted, more human than highborn, but his chest was broad and barrel-shaped, like his mother had been a gorilla. The armor was in the tactical fashion that the imperial reserves preferred, a matte black that prevented light from escaping.
Everyone in this communal block lined up from oldest to youngest. And Dane stood at the end of the line.
Everyone knew the drill. This was a formality, just a dog-and-pony show. The auditors made their rounds every few months, and they always walked away with the kids who were about to turn system age.
This time, that name was going to be Danes. Everyone else in line was a joke: gray hairs, limp wrists, women who hadn't picked up anything heavier than a ration box. He didn't know them, but he didn't need to know them. If the elves wanted to play pretend and weigh all of them, that was fine.
"Next," the gorilla-elf grunted.
It was finally Dane's turn, and he stepped up. The scale creaked beneath him. The auditor didn't even look up at Dane and just scribbled something on a yellowed ledger with a stub of charcoal.
"Step back in line."
He did. His boots clicked together out of habit. Then...
"Today," the auditor called, voice booming, "we will be accepting everyone into the military."
The silence was louder than anything Dane had ever heard.
Shock and confusion rippled through the line of people.
"What?" someone whispered. "Everyone?"
Even the old folks looked up like they'd misheard. One woman, probably in her late fifties, visibly trembled. Another guy, cane in hand, leaned heavily against a younger man beside him.
Rachel, a seamstress in her thirties, stepped forward. Her voice cracked as she spoke. "You can't take my grandmother to the frontlines," she said, eyes brimming.
The elf didn't even blink. He made a dismissive motion with one thick hand.
"She won't be going to the frontlines," he said, tone lazy, and almost amused.
For a split second, hope flickered in Rachel's face.
"She'll be going to the mines."
The smirk that followed twisted his whole face, like he enjoyed letting the words sink in.
She froze and turned to her grandmother, who looked too frail to stand, let alone work. Rachel tried to step back in line to pull her away, but the guards were already there.
Dane felt his hands curl into fists. All he could hear was his little sister's voice in his head: "Would you step in for someone you didn't even know?"
He didn't know Rachel well. He didn't know her grandma at all. But he knew what came next. Broken backs. Starvation. A slow death underground. And Dane hated the elf for that. He took half a step forward.
One of the guard's eyes flicked toward Dane. It was a warning. Not spoken, but clear. He stopped himself. Not yet. If he moved now, he'd be dragged down with them. If he fought now, Rebecca wouldn't stand a chance.
So he forced himself still. Forced the fingers to uncurl. And he made his expression blank. It was like swallowing glass.
Rachel was still sobbing as the guards pulled her away. A few others began to cry. Someone cursed under their breath. No one else stepped forward.
That's when he noticed the guards. Typically, there'd be two or three. Today, there were thirty-one, one for each person. They marched them out like it was the Trail of Tears. No one spoke, just the sound of labored breathing, heavy and old. He kept his head down. Rebecca would be safe for three more years. That was all that mattered. He scanned the watching faces as they passed by, but he didn't see her. He might never see her again; he buried that as well.
The placement exam had three parts: first, a logic test; second, the combat portion; and last, magic affinity, which was tested through a special stone that only activated for System users. You couldn't fake it. You either had it or didn't.
The logic test started well enough. He gave it his all, but he was stumped when they got to the section about what he would do in specific combat situations. He had a feeling that "get stronger and kill it" wasn't what they were looking for, but it fit almost any scenario.
A faint chime rang in the back of Dane's skull, like someone flicking a wine glass.
System initializing…Happy Birthday, Dane McAllister.
He blinked. That was… weird. The System was supposed to sound cold and imperial, the emperor's voice in your head. This one sounded almost… friendly.
Would you like to enable personal notifications?
"Uh… sure?" he muttered under his breath.
Acknowledged. Would you like a tutorial?
He glanced at the line still shuffling forward. Probably not the best time to play with menus, however, curiosity got the better of him. "Fine. Give me the short version."
To open your menu, think 'MENU'. Interactive elements will appear in blue.
He pictured the word, and a translucent panel flickered into existence before his eyes.
Race: Human
Rank: F
Level: 1
EXP: 0 / 100
- Strength: 6
- Dexterity: 5
- Constitution: 5
- Charisma: 2
- Stamina: 6
- Intelligence: 6
- Willpower: 10
HP: 10/10 MP: 1/1 Stamina: 10/10
Skills:
- Unarmed Combat Lv. 2/25
- Axe Proficiency Lv. 3/25
- Small Weapons Lv. 1/25
- Identify Lv. 1/10
- Haste Lv. 3/5
Dane's eyebrows went up. Haste? Nice. Axes and knives, too. He'd be just fine sticking with what he knew. Still, F-rank was a kick in the teeth. No matter how high the numbers looked now, his growth would be capped hard until he ranked up.
Would you like to reconfigure your interface?
"Yeah. We'll talk later," he muttered, shoving the panel to the back of his mind as the lizardman guard snarled, "Move it, Earthbound."
The lizardman was half his height and twice his width. He glared up at Dane. In hindsight, this may not have been the best time to explore the system interface.
They arrived at the sparring grounds with little fanfare. It was an old football field transformed into what resembled the Roman Colosseum. The goalposts were long gone, but you could still see faded white lines where the grass poked through the stone.