CHAPTER 1: THE F-RANK REALITY
[Name: Ben-Ari Yo-han]
[Rank: F]
[Potential: F]
[Power Type / Skill: None]
Those four lines were the constant, mocking soundtrack of Yo-han's existence. In a world that had transitioned from logic to fantasy, those words were his digital shackles. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw them; every time he applied for a raid, he heard them whispered with a sneer.
It was all because of those damn Towers.
They had appeared without warning, piercing the sky like the jagged teeth of a subterranean god. At first, the world panicked. Scientists scrambled for explanations while the religious fell to their knees. But as the years bled into decades, the enigmatic structures became a part of the landscape. They were called many things: The Magic Towers, The Gates, Paradise Valley, or the Labyrinths.
But regardless of the name, they were beyond human understanding.
The scholars eventually theorized a truth that sounded like a fairy tale: stories have weight. Mythology, the epics of great historical figures, folk tales passed down through generations, and even the popular novels of the modern age anything humanity remembered for long enough began to manifest power. That collective consciousness had solidified, forming physical gateways into "Dungeons" that mirrored the legends of old.
Inside those walls, the laws of physics were replaced by the logic of a game. It was a realm of swords and sorcery, of shifting dimensions and impossible skills. It was a world where dragons could literally rise from the smallest creeks, and where the impossible became a daily occurrence.
And where there is magic, there is profit.
The Towers held magic stones and treasures relics of lost eras and crystallized mana that lay dormant in the dark, waiting for a hand to claim them. These stones became the world's new gold, traded at prices that could make a man a billionaire overnight or power a city for a year.
Those who hunted these riches were known as Raiders.
They were the "Awakened ones," the lucky few whose bodies had reacted to the mana flooding the world. Becoming a Raider was the ultimate ticket to social mobility. It didn't matter if you were born into the gutter; if you Awakened with a high rank, you were a god among men. Innovation, wealth, and fame it was all there for the taking.
However, the Towers were not a playground. They were a slaughterhouse for those Raider's.
"Nothing in this life is free, Everything comes with a price no matter what is it, you have to pay to get something" Yo-han often muttered to himself, his voice raspy from disuse.
To the public point of view, raiding looked the Towers and the dungeon inside of it looks like the high-definition video games they played on their consoles leveling up, gaining stats, and finding loot. But there was one crucial difference: there was no "Save" button. There was no "Respawn" point. In the Tower, if a goblin's rusted blade slit your throat, you didn't wake up in a temple. You died. Your life ended in the dark, cold dirt of a world that didn't belong to you.
That was how the world had changed. That was the new, brutal reality we now live in.
Before his Awakening, Yo-han's life had been a relentless grind of survival. After barely scraping through high school with no prospects, he had lived a life defined by the ticking of the clock and the ache in his back.
He had worked every miserable part-time job imaginable. He had been a house cleaner scrubbing the stains of the wealthy, a pizza delivery boy racing through storms for a meager tip, a postal worker sorting endless mountains of paper. He had been a ghost in the machine of the city, a young boy who considered his mundane life to be a nightmare more suffocating than any fiction.
Then, the miracle happened.
Yo-han had Awakened.
For one fleeting moment, his heart had soared. He thought his life of suffering was finally over. He imagined himself donning gleaming armor, wielding a blade of light, and never having to worry about his next meal again. He thought he was finally the protagonist of his own story.
But reality didn't just hit him; it crushed him into the pavement.
His status window was a joke. An F-Rank the lowest possible grade. His potential was capped at F, meaning no matter how hard he trained, he would never grow. To make matters worse, he had no skills. Not a single passive buff or active ability. He was a Raider in name only, a "paper tiger" with the durability of a civilian.
Every day since then had been a living hell.
In the hyper-competitive world of Raiders, Yo-han was the bottom of the food chain. To even get a chance to enter a low-level dungeon for small magic stones, he had to prostrate himself. He had to bow his head until his forehead touched the floor, begging higher-ranked Raiders to take pity on him. He was a porter, a bait, a joke.
"Please," he would plead, "I'll carry the heavy bags. I'll take 5% of the split. Just let me in."
He had no skills to defend himself. He couldn't conquer a tower on his own. He was constantly on the verge of death, surviving only by the crumbs dropped by those who looked at him with disgust. He was one of the "disposable" ones the low-tier Raiders who were expected to die so that the "real" heroes could shine.
Yo-han stood at the edge of the bustling raid district, his hand trembling as he gripped the strap of his worn-out backpack. He was tired. Tired of the hunger, tired of the fear, and tired of being the weakest.
He was one of those pathetic, low-tier Raiders.
However, as he looked up at the towering spire of the Gate looming over the city, a cold, sharp spark ignited in his eyes.
That pathetic life… it would all end today.