A New World, Not So Bad

Time started counting down. The first second disappeared.

[ 14:59 ]

Everyone froze. The people who had tried to stand up earlier were now stuck in place, staring at the glowing system screen with wide, disbelieving eyes. This wasn't just some sick joke anymore—this was actually happening. A countdown to the most horrifying choice of their lives.

"What the hell is this?!" A middle-aged woman's voice cracked as she screamed. "Kill someone? This can't be real!"

"This has to be some kind of magic trick!" another man shouted back, his voice shaking. He frantically searched his pockets for something to throw, but came up empty.

Julius, the Black Angel, watched them from above with disgust written all over his pale face. "How pathetic. You've lived in your fantasy world of peace and morality for so long that you've forgotten what you really are."

His golden eyes scanned each face like he was looking for something specific. "We're not interested in weaklings who can only cry. We're looking for a King."

The word "King" hit Claude like a lightning bolt. His blood rushed through his veins. That single word triggered every trauma, every humiliation, every moment he'd felt powerless. King. His whole life, he'd been nothing but garbage for people to step on. Living on the streets, starving, hopeless. The dream of becoming someone important, someone with real power, had always felt impossible. But now this otherworldly being was talking about it like it could actually happen.

Julius looked directly at Claude, his gaze lingering like he could see something others couldn't. Claude felt a weird connection, almost like the creature was reading his mind. Julius didn't say anything, but Claude knew—this thing could sense the storm raging inside him.

Before he could think, Claude found his voice. "What... what do you mean by looking for a King?" The question slipped out, breaking the tense silence. Everyone turned to stare at him, shocked that some street kid dared to speak to this terrifying being.

A thin smile spread across Julius's lips. "Too early for you to understand, little insect. That knowledge is only for those who earn it. For those brave enough to take action." He didn't give a straight answer, but his stare felt like a challenge. Or maybe an invitation.

Claude didn't back down. His need to know, to understand, was stronger than his fear. His entire life had been a fight just to survive. Every breath was a battle. And now, here was a chance to turn that struggle into something more.

"Don't listen to him!" someone screamed from the crowd. "He's a demon! He just wants us to kill each other!"

"Exactly right," Julius replied coldly. "But don't worry—I won't force you. Those who are weak, those who choose to stay wallowing in misery, be my guest. We don't need weak humans. This world already has too many fragile specimens like you."

Those words should have been comforting, but instead they cut deep. Not needed. Weak. Trash. Julius was basically confirming their worthlessness, crushing what little dignity they had left.

"This chance won't come again," Julius warned, his voice growing more intense. "This opportunity to become more than dust only appears once in a thousand years. Not becoming Awakened will be the biggest regret you'll carry for the rest of your short, pathetic lives."

Time kept moving on the system screen.

[ 14:45 ]

[ 14:44 ]

Twenty seconds had passed. Nobody moved. Fear and doubt still had them by the throat. The idea of actually killing another person, of getting blood on their hands, was too horrible to process. They kept glancing at each other, wondering who would go first, who would become the victim, and who would become the killer.

Julius sighed like he was bored. "Fine. I think I've explained enough. Smart people will understand. The rest—let fate decide."

He snapped his fingers again, that sharp sound echoing through the air. The system panel in front of everyone flickered, and the countdown suddenly sped up.

[ 12:00 ]

The time was cut! Their fifteen minutes got brutally slashed to twelve. People started moving restlessly, their eyes now calculating, looking for targets, searching for opportunities. The same people who had been screaming in protest now had dark glints in their eyes.

Claude ignored the chaos around him. His eyes were locked on the countdown. His blood was on fire. This was it. This was his chance to escape the hell he'd lived in his entire life. A chance to stop being looked down on. A chance to get revenge on this cruel world.

He remembered the well-dressed man who had shoved him aside like he was nothing. The man who had treated him as invisible, just street trash. That same man was standing a few meters away, still staring at the system panel with confusion and terror.

A cold, satisfied, almost insane smile spread across Claude's face. He couldn't hold it back anymore. All the rage and despair he'd buried for so long finally found its outlet. This wasn't about right or wrong. This was about survival. About seizing power.

Without hesitation, while everyone was distracted by the chaos, Claude moved. His steps were silent—he'd learned to move in shadows. He slipped through the crowd like a ghost.

The suited man was still frozen, staring at the countdown. He was everything Claude hated about the world that had always trampled him. He was the perfect target.

In seconds, Claude was right behind him. His thin hands, powered by raging adrenaline, clenched into fists. With all the strength he had, he drove a vicious punch into the back of the man's head.

THUD!

The dull impact was muffled by the surrounding noise, but rang crystal clear in Claude's ears. The suited man jerked, his eyes going wide with shock and pain. His body collapsed, unconscious and helpless. He hit the ground with a heavy thump.

But Claude wasn't done. This wasn't over. The blood in his veins demanded more. Years of built-up rage exploded. He dropped to his knees beside the man's defenseless body, his small fists beginning to rain down on the man's face in a savage frenzy. Blow after blow, without mercy. Each strike released his anger, his suffering, his powerlessness.

Blood started flowing, soaking the asphalt under the man's head. His nose crumpled. His eyes swelled shut. The face that had once been so arrogant was now a bloody mess. Claude kept hitting, his breathing ragged, his eyes gleaming with madness. He didn't care if anyone saw. He didn't care if he became a monster. He only wanted power. He only wanted to be Awakened.

Finally, the suited man stopped moving completely. His breathing stopped. His eyes stared emptily at the sky.

Claude raised his bloody hands, his face streaked with crimson. He was gasping, his chest rising and falling rapidly. A strange sensation flowed through his body. Not regret. Not guilt. But a new power surging within him.

Then, right in front of him, the system panel blazed with light. The text that had been just instructions now transformed.

[ CONGRATULATIONS! YOU HAVE BECOME THE FIRST AWAKENED IN THE WORLD! ]

An explosion of energy coursed through him, a wave of warmth that spread from his core, filling every cell, every nerve. Claude's eyes widened. This... this was real. He had done it. He had paid the price. And now, he had become something more.

The night had only just begun, and Claude had chosen his path. A path stained with blood, but promising unlimited power.