The old television crackled, casting a dull flickering light across the cramped studio apartment like a candle struggling against the wind. Paint peeled from the corners of the concrete walls, and the metal louvers buzzed gently from the rusting electric fan that did little to cut the heavy humidity of Manila's evening air. The room was a far cry from comfort, but it was quiet—at least for now.
Alex sat cross-legged on his mattress, its springs long past retirement, with a bowl of half-eaten noodles resting on the floor beside him. The broth had gone cold, forgotten. His limbs, every muscle and tendon, throbbed with a strange ache—one that had become familiar since his awakening. But it wasn't ordinary soreness; it was something deeper, something transformative. His body felt like it had outgrown itself, stretching beyond what nature had intended, still settling into a new mold forged by power and potential.
On the flickering screen, a government seal rotated behind the stern face of the President of the Philippines. His features were stoic, lips tight, yet his voice carried both urgency and restraint.
"My countrymen, we must face this global event with unity and discipline. I urge every citizen to stay calm, to be vigilant, and above all, to refrain from panic or any unlawful acts. We must protect each other during these uncertain times."
A beat of silence followed as the president's eyes seemed to search the screen, as though appealing to each viewer individually.
"If you know someone who has been... chosen by this phenomenon, please urge them to come forward peacefully. Let our authorities guide this delicate situation to avoid unnecessary harm."
Alex scoffed, the sound dry and humorless. He tossed the remote onto the bed, where it bounced once before settling next to a rolled-up jacket doubling as a pillow.
"Yeah, right," he muttered. "Let the government poke me with needles and stick me in a cage. Great idea."
He rose to his feet slowly, feeling the subtle resistance in his muscles. It was like waking up in someone else's body—someone stronger, faster, and more alive. A glimmer from the wall caught his eye, and he turned toward the cracked mirror hanging loosely by a single rusted nail.
The reflection never failed to surprise him.
Gone were the hunched shoulders and dull complexion that had once defined him. His spine stood straight as a soldier's, shoulders squared and symmetrical. Muscles—lean, defined, almost feline in their flexibility—moved beneath bronze-toned skin that shimmered faintly in the half-light, like sunlight catching the surface of a calm sea. His dark hair, once dry and unruly, now fell in soft, healthy waves across his brow.
He wasn't what Manila called movie-star handsome, but he didn't need to be. Even during his brief stint as a commercial model, he'd known good looks were a tool, nothing more. Now, that tool had been reforged into something primal.
But his transformation wasn't merely physical.
Inside him, the sentient hummed like a living organism—a partner that whispered information whenever he needed it. It was nothing like the fictional systems in the novels he'd binged on late at night. There were no awkward prompts, no need to command it to show his stats. All it took was a thought.
Status.
All at once, it unfolded before his mind's eye like a scroll woven from light and ancient runes:
Name: Alexandre Cortero
Race: Human (Evolved)
Age: 30
Class: Druid
Health: 200/200
Energy: 100/100
STATS:
Strength : 16 (×5) = 80
Wisdom : 15 (×3) = 45
Agility : 10 (×3) = 30
Constitution : 12 (×5) = 60
Intelligence : 15 (×2) = 30
Perception : 8 (×5) = 40
Vitality : 10 (×3) = 30
Stamina : 12 (×5) = 60
Acquired Abilities:
• Extreme Durability
• Reflex Vision
• Strength Ratio
• Acute Vibration Sensitivity
• Jumping Power
• Aerial Agility
• Photosynthesis
• Regeneration
Ancestor's Blessing: Pure Luck
Bloodline Legacy: ???
Druid Class Skills:
• Elemental Control (Fire, Water, Air, Earth, Wood) – Level 1
• Forest Whisper (Passive)
• Beast/Animal Taming – Level 1 (Wild Animals)
• Summoning (Beast) – Level 1 (Wolf companion)
• Healing – Level 1 (Heal Wounds)
• Shapeshifting – Level 1 (Hawk)
Alex frowned as the numbers danced in his mind. He leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees, absorbed by the weight of what they represented.
"What do these numbers actually mean?" he murmured aloud.
The sentient voice responded with the serenity of a sage who had watched empires rise and crumble:
"These data points are quantifiers of your physical and metaphysical attributes. They reflect your potential. For example, each point in Strength equals twenty-five kilograms of lifting capacity."
Alex blinked. "So sixteen points means... 400 kilograms?"
"Correct. However," the sentient continued, "you possess a Strength Multiplier of five, attributed to the Ant DNA Trait you absorbed during awakening."
Alex's heart skipped. His mind did the math.
"Five times sixteen... eighty strength. That's two thousand kilograms, two tons."
He exhaled slowly, the numbers becoming real. "I could lift a goddamn SUV..."
His eyes wandered back to the rest of the stats. Agility—30. That explained why everything around him seemed slower now, like he could track the path of falling raindrops. Constitution and vitality combined to give him durability far beyond normal human limits. And perception—hell, he could feel when something shifted behind a wall, sense the subtlest vibrations in the air.
But the one that fascinated him most wasn't a number.
It was the Druid Class.
There was the elemental control, the shapeshifting, and the summoning. Just like in the RPG.
"It's incomplete," he thought aloud. "There's more to learn. Much more."
His gaze fell to the next line:
Ancestor's Blessing—Pure Luck
A slow grin formed at the corner of his mouth.
"Pure luck, huh? That's got potential."
In games, Luck was always the wild stat. It tweaked probability. It opened rare paths, triggered critical hits, and attracted strange encounters. In real life? If that effect translated even partially... Well, he wasn't going to argue with the universe.
But then his eyes rested on the final entry, the only one that remained veiled:
Bloodline Legacy—???
He felt his pulse quicken. His thoughts turned inward, toward something deeper, more primal than stats or power levels.
"What about this?" he whispered. "Why is my Bloodline Legacy still unknown?"
For the first time, the sentient paused—hesitated—and Alex didn't miss it. The delay wasn't from error. It was intentional. Deliberate.
"That part of your essence is locked," it finally said. "It will reveal itself in time—when your soul is strong enough to bear its truth."
Alex didn't speak. The weight of those words pressed down on him like unseen gravity. It wasn't just knowledge being withheld—it was destiny being delayed. Like a test? Or does it just need time to be unlocked?
"When I'm strong enough…" he echoed.