As Gershion was about to take a shower, he heard a notification sound. Glancing at the screen, he saw a task pop up.
Message Alert: Complete daily activity and get a bonus stats upgrade.
Activity 1: Meditate for 10 minutes.
Activity 2: Drink 1000ml of water.
Activity 3: Run 10 kilometers.
Rewards: Stats upgrade +5.
Failure will result in a penalty.
It seemed simple enough. He had nothing to lose.
Sitting on the floor, he closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe slowly and deeply, pushing away the weight of yesterday's failure. The humiliation, the laughter—it all faded as he focused inward. For ten minutes, he let the silence consume him, pushing out every thought, every fear. It wasn’t easy, but by the end, he felt lighter, as though a burden had lifted from his shoulders.
The second task was simpler. Gershion grabbed a bottle of water and downed it in one go. Two tasks complete.
The third task, however, would be tougher. Running 10 kilometers wasn’t something he did often, but he needed to head to the Celestial Hall anyway to get his certification as a Porter. Walking there would kill two birds with one stone.
Before leaving, he found Miss Fiona in the kitchen. "I’m heading out," he said, tying his shoelaces.
She smiled, though concern shadowed her eyes. “Be careful out there, Gershion. It’s not easy dealing with… everything.”
“I will,” he promised, forcing a smile of his own. It wasn’t easy. Nothing about today was. But he needed to prove something—to himself, to everyone. Somehow.
As Gershion walked down the street, he could hear the whispers of his neighbors, the faint laughter from behind closed doors. *They already know*, he thought bitterly. News of his failure had spread like wildfire.
He ignored them, each step pushing him further from their judgment. He wasn’t going to be defined by this. Let them laugh. Let them mock. He would find a way to rise above it. He had to.
He ran the entire way to the Celestial Hall, pushing through the burning in his legs and lungs. By the time he reached the entrance, sweat dripped down his face, and his muscles ached. But in the midst of the pain, he heard a soft ding in his head.
.
Alert : +5 Stats Upgrade Received
He smiled, feeling the rush of accomplishment. Opening the system, He allocated the points immediately to intelligence.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
Message Alert: +5 Stats Upgrade
Title: Angel Sub-Category: Non-Combatant
HP: 100/100 Strength: 1/5 Agility: 1/5 Sense: 0/5 Intelligence: 5/5
Skill: None Equipment: None Potions: None Store: Locked
It wasn’t much, but it was a start. Maybe this system, this strange voice in the dark, could offer him more than the world ever had.
◆◆◆
Inside the Celestial Hall, the receptionist barely glanced up as Gershion approached the desk. He gave her his name, and she rifled through a stack of certificates with the enthusiasm of someone forced to work on their day off.
Her fingers stopped when she found his. Glancing at his essence score, a smug grin spread across her face.
“Well, well, well,” she said, holding up the certificate. “Gershion, the guy with an essence of two. Congratulations—you’ve been assigned as a Porter. You’ll be carrying bags during raids.” She laughed as she handed him the paper.
He took it without a word, the ridicule washing over him like a wave he had already learned to withstand.
Behind him, laughter began to bubble up.
A boy about his age, tall with a sharp jawline and eyes gleaming with amusement, stepped forward. “Essence of two? What are you gonna carry? A toothpick?” He smirked. “You sure you don’t want to go back and take the test again? Maybe you can get a score of three next time.”
His friends snickered behind him. “Careful, or he might trip over his own feet trying.”
Gershion clenched his fists, his patience worn thin. He had held his tongue long enough, but he wasn’t going to let this slide. Not anymore.
He took a step forward, heart pounding with the rising heat of his anger. “Say that again,” he said, his voice low but steady, the threat clear.
The boy raised an eyebrow, clearly not intimidated. “What? You gonna hit me? With what? Your Porter bag?”
His friends laughed harder.
Gershion tensed, his body moving before he could stop it. I’ll wipe that smug look off his face, he thought. But just as he was about to step forward, something strange happened—a thought appeared in his mind.
Take it easy. You’re weaker than him. You’ll suffer further humiliation.
He froze. The voice wasn’t his. It felt foreign, but oddly calming, and it snapped him out of his reckless impulse. He hesitated, taking a deep breath. *Where did that come from?
Before he could dwell on it, the receptionist called out. “Next! Acel!”
The boy who had mocked him stepped up, flashing his friends a cocky grin. The receptionist checked his file, her face twisting into disbelief. She looked at him, then down at the certificate.
“Acel,” she said, her voice louder than usual. “You’ve been ranked as a Principality.”
A wave of murmurs spread through the hall. A Principality? That was one of the highest celestial ranks—nearly unheard of in their community. His essence must have been enormous.
Gershion stared at him, feeling the heat of anger slowly drain away, replaced with relief. Thank you, he thought, directing his gratitude toward whatever force had stopped him from making a fool of himself.
Acel walked away, smug and proud, soaking in the admiration of the crowd. Gershion turned, clutching his own certificate, and made his way out of the hall.
---
When he got home, exhaustion from the day’s events had fully set in. Miss Fiona was sitting on the couch, watching TV. She glanced up as he walked in.
“You’re back,” she said, smiling warmly. “You don’t look as down as I expected.”
He shrugged, sitting beside her. “Yeah, I guess… I’ve got a lot to think about.”
Miss Fiona studied him for a moment before turning off the TV. “Gershion, you’ve been through a lot lately. I can see that you’re carrying a weight you don’t fully understand.”
He stayed silent, unsure how to explain what he was feeling. The system, the sudden thoughts, the voice. The question had been bugging him for a while now, and he couldn’t hold it in any longer.
“Miss Fiona…” he hesitated. “Why do you think I’m special? You’ve always said I was different, but I never understood why. And now… with the system, and everything else that’s happening… I can’t help but wonder. Why me? Why did the shadows of the Almighty choose me?”
Miss Fiona’s expression softened, though there was a deep sadness behind her eyes. She exhaled slowly, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“It’s about time I told you the truth, Gershion. The truth about your origin.”