The air in the Royal Summoning Chamber of Veridian was thick with the scent of ozone and triumph. The room was designed for reverence, with soaring vaulted ceilings and stained glass depicting heroic legends. But to Kael Vane, it smelled like betrayal.
He stood last in the long line of his former high school classmates. Each of them now glowed faintly, infused with the magic of Aethelgard. Their names, classes, and skill ranks had been inscribed onto the Great Crystal, their destiny secured.
When the Royal Scribe, a nervous man in gold-threaded robes, finally approached Kael, the scribe's hand shook, and the crystal pen dragged slowly across the final line.
"And lastly," the Scribe announced, his voice a whisper of pity that carried across the hushed chamber, "Kael Vane."
The King, Theron II, a man whose presence was as heavy as the crown on his head, did not look at Kael. He addressed the assembly of his court. "Sometimes the Divine Weave catches only static. The vessel is flawed, or the connection is weak."
The final inscription flashed on the grand viewing crystal:
Name: Kael Vane
Class: None
Skill: Null
A collective wave of disappointment, not shock, rolled through the room. Kael felt the pity sting worse than any insult. He had always been average; now he was literally nothing.
Beside him, Vance, once his quiet rival and now the embodiment of destiny, stood tall. Vance radiated the literal glow of the S-Tier Radiant Paladin class. He leaned in, his voice low and laced with cold judgment.
"You waste our efforts, Kael," Vance said, his tone devoid of warmth. "This is a sacred war, and you were given the chance to serve. To present nothing is an insult to the gods who summoned us."
Kael kept his eyes forward, holding onto the last sliver of his dignity. "I didn't choose this."
"You chose who you were," Vance dismissed, turning away to bask in the King's praise. "And the gods chose accordingly."
King Theron finally lifted his hand, pointing a finger past Kael toward the shadowed, dusty tapestry hanging on the chamber wall.
"We have no use for a nullity in the fight against the Shadow Blight," the King declared. "Exile him to the furthest, most irrelevant outpost. Luna Nullis. He can monitor the long-range sensors and clean the satellite panels. Keep him alive, but do not waste so much as a single mana flask on him."
Kael was seized by two low-tier guards. As he was dragged past his former classmates, he saw the faces: some held pity, others disgust. One girl, a new A-Tier elemental mage, refused to meet his eyes at all. In their world of absolute power, being Null was worse than being a villain.
Hours later, Kael was deposited onto a barren, gray moonscape. The shuttle left quickly, kicking up fine dust. His world, Aethelgard, hung enormous and beautiful in the black sky—a vibrant blue and green sphere that had utterly rejected him.
He had a two-year assignment schedule, a sleeping bag, basic rations, and a pile of broken equipment needing maintenance. He spent the next two years surviving, not living. He learned to conserve every calorie, to repair rusty conduits with crude, improvised tools, and to endure the agonizing, absolute loneliness. His physical resilience grew, but his spirit withered.
Then, on a Tuesday, two years, five months, and eighteen days into his exile, Kael was on a catwalk, battling a rusted bolt on a vital atmospheric regulator. His shoulder was screaming from the effort. He slipped, scraping his knuckles raw.
He stopped, resting his head against the cold metal, a feeling of deep, exhausted despair washing over him. I hate this. I hate every single moment of this pointless work.
As the thought crystalized, a sterile, glowing interface—more machine than magic—snapped into existence two inches from his face. It was impossibly high-definition and utterly silent.
[WELCOME, SYSTEM ADMINISTRATOR]
CLASS: NONE
SYSTEM: UNLIMITED SYSTEM (THE NULLITY'S APEX)
SYSTEM POINTS (SP): ∞
Kael stared at the shimmering infinity symbol, feeling no surge of triumph, only a deep, profound weariness. His fingers, still stained with rust and blood, hovered near the display.
Two years. Two years of freezing, miserable, backbreaking work, and the entire time, the key to escape had been locked inside him. The unfairness was staggering.
He was supposed to be ecstatic. He was supposed to rage, to plan his revenge. Instead, he just wanted a nap. A long, luxurious, zero-effort nap.
He didn't touch the system for thirty minutes. He just watched the little red warning light on the atmospheric regulator blink, signaling imminent failure. That repair was three weeks of cold, painful manual labor.
Kael sighed, a long, heavy expulsion of air. Revenge could wait. First, comfort.
He tapped the screen with a reluctant finger. He felt like he was cheating on existence itself.
[CURRENT TASK: ATMOSPHERIC REGULATOR REPAIR]
SYSTEM RECOMMENDATION: PURCHASE INSTANT REPAIR DRONE (RANK C)
COST: 1 SP
He hesitated, the guilt feeling sharp and physical. Then, the memory of his freezing hands won.
"Fine," he muttered to the empty dome. "One point. Get this over with. Then I'm going to my bunk."
He pressed [PURCHASE]. The true work—the kingdom building—could definitely wait until after a good night's sleep.