**\[The condition has been fulfilled.]**
The echo of the voice rang through Kalm's exhausted mind.
It was a strange voice—one he couldn't quite place.
It sounded similar to the Voice of the World… and yet entirely different.
**"What did it say again...? A condition…?"**
As he tried to focus, the voice returned—
But this time, it wasn't coming from *inside* his head.
No.
It *radiated* from everything around him—
From the shimmering sky above,
From the strange mausoleum before him,
From the watery surface beneath his broken body.
**\[A lost one... stripped of all by fate, no longer welcome in any place, in any world...
Cast into the Cave of Stars, adrift in a secluded void...
By his hand, a great warrior fell—she who bore the legacy of Death and the title of calm … and with her fall, he inherited both.
With a shattered body, he crossed the river of blood, and crawled by sheer will to the White Mausoleum…
As his final hope, he shed his blood upon the gate of the ancient tomb… and offered his wish to the Elders.]**
A pause.
The silence that followed made Kalm's heart pound violently—unable to believe what he was hearing.
Then the voice spoke again—
**\[Your wish has been heard.
Your struggle begins now.
Awaken, O Lost One.
Your trial has ended—
And you have been granted the title of…]**
**"Wait—what…? What the hell does any of this even mean?"**
But before Kalm could even begin to grasp what was happening—
The crimson light vanished.
And with it, everything else—
The twinkling sky.
The White Mausoleum.
Gone.
In less than a heartbeat, Kalm found himself once more in that pitch-black void—
The same one he had entered at the start of the trial.
Except this time…
He felt no pain.
No wounds.
No fatigue.
He flexed his fingers—easily.
Moved his legs—effortlessly.
His eyes widened.
**His body… was whole.**
Not a scratch on him.
His shattered bones had healed.
The blood he'd lost… restored.
**"Incredible… it feels so good to be whole again..."**
Kalm smiled in relief, wriggling his fingers and touching his limbs in disbelief.
As he moved, letters of golden light appeared before his eyes—
The familiar glyphs of the Voice of the World's system interface.
He took a breath and focused, reading the message.
---
**Name:** Kalm
**World Title:** *The Ordinary*
**Alignment:** *The Sacrificer*
**Essence:** \[0]
**Traits:** \[The Maker], \[The Cursed], \[I Am the Other 1/8], \[Child of Fate], \[Bond]
---
Kalm scratched the back of his head, his black eyes trembling slightly.
He had already accepted that he'd never surpass the limits of an ordinary man—even as one awakened…
But *this*?
**"Seriously? My world title is 'The Ordinary'?!"**
He wanted to complain. Curse, even.
But he restrained himself and instead focused on the descriptions.
Starting with the title…
---
**\[The Ordinary]**
You have been rejected by Power.
Under all circumstances, you are fated to remain… an ordinary person.
---
Kalm raised one brow, expression blank.
**"Great. First, I'm cursed… now I'm officially rejected by power too."**
He waved his hand with a tired scoff and covered his face.
**"What's next—rejected by women, too?
Wouldn't surprise me at this point…"**
He sighed, annoyed by how absurd the description sounded.
Hardly worthy of being a product of the "Voice of the World."
He started to wonder if maybe *his* version of it was defective.
Lazy. Broken.
Throwing nonsense at him instead of proper descriptions for the dangerous abilities it had shoved onto him.
After a moment to steady himself, he focused on his **Alignment**.
---
**\[The Sacrificer]**
For every major victory you achieve, fate will take something from you.
Until, at last… it takes *you*.
---
**"Yep. Now I'm sure of it. I'm completely doomed."**
He started out as just a powerless, ordinary man.
And now fate would *claim something* every time he succeeded.
Kalm exhaled and stared into the darkness that surrounded him, letting the silence settle—
Then turned his attention to the list of **Traits**.
He had already read some: \[The Cursed], \[The Maker], \[I Am the Other 1/8]…
But now, something else stood out.
A particular trait.
One that sent a creeping sensation crawling up his spine.
**\[Child of Fate]:**
A fate interwoven and far-reaching within the world.
Events that *might* have happened—
Now, with your presence, are more likely to occur.
Your destiny is tied to all great events...
Kalm let out a tired, bitter breath.
**"So, in simple terms... I'm going to be at the center of *every* damn problem.
As a regular guy.
And 'The Sacrificer' will keep taking pieces of me until there's nothing left.
Fantastic. Truly brilliant..."**
He scowled and covered his face with one hand, exhaling long and deep.
In that moment, a sense of dread clawed at him.
He hadn't even read the final cursed trait yet.
A part of him *didn't want to*.
It felt like the last dagger—sharpened and waiting—to strike the killing blow.
**"...What now?"**
With a reluctant sigh, he lowered his hand from his face.
**He'd already seen the worst—
What more could possibly go wrong?**
**"...Oh no.
Damn it—I *said it* again..."**
Kalm instinctively raised both hands toward the void above him, a sheepish expression on his face.
**"I take it back!
Please, you wretched cosmic bastard—
You vile, corrupted, godlike thing—
Don't make it worse!"**
His voice dissolved into the blackness.
And after a moment...
He returned to the final trait:
---
**\[Bond]:**
Allows the original body to merge with one of its manifestations for a short duration,
Depending on the current stage of manifestation.
This is done by sending the original into the Soul Sea and keeping the projection in the world.
**\[Current Bond Duration: 1 minute]**
---
Kalm sighed in relief, placing a hand over his chest as if shielding a fragile spark of hope—
**Finally...
A trait that wasn't trying to kill him.**
Aside from *The Maker*, nearly every trait was a curse in disguise.
A storm waiting to tear him apart.
But **Bond**…
Bond was *different*.
It was... **useful**.
Maybe even *brilliant*.
The ability to merge with his calm self, or with other projections he might create in the future—
It opened up possibilities.
Strength.
Tactics.
For once, something worth having.
But even as that faint hope lingered, Kalm's expression darkened again.
Because reality was still a cruel companion.
He would inevitably find himself at the heart of major conflicts—
His fate tangled with powerful figures and heavy events.
But that wasn't the only thing weighing on his mind…
**The weapons.**
The two that *Kalistra* had spoken of.
He had completed the trial—
Fulfilled the condition.
And yet… there was no sign of them.
Nothing in the system.
Nothing in the golden text.
**Had she lied to him…?**
Had it all been a trick to push him forward?
A final nudge to make him offer his blood willingly…?
Kalm rubbed his chin, lost in thought.
Then a flicker of insight lit his black eyes.
**At the end of the trial—
That crimson light… it had vanished the moment his title was granted.
Was it related to the weapons…?
Or had it simply been coincidence…?**
**"No."**
His voice was firm now.
**"Nothing in this madness happens by coincidence…
There *has* to be something."**
His mind continued to turn through the pieces—
But then a sudden voice shattered his focus:
---
**\[You have completed the first trial.
Result: Acceptable.
Well done.]**
---
Kalm blinked, brow raised in disbelief.
**"Wait—'well done'?
It *should* be the best result possible,
Considering what I went through!"**
But before his petty protest could finish echoing into the void,
The voice returned again—cold, impartial, and uninterested in his theatrics:
---
**\[Rewards being delivered...]**
---
In that moment, two lights appeared before him—
So bright he instinctively shielded his eyes.
One glowed with a deep, majestic **violet**.
The other shone with a pure, surreal **white**.
The violet light condensed—
Taking the shape of a pair of ethereal wings,
Feathers long and regal, shimmering with the same violet hue as the glow itself.
He reached forward.
Touched them—
And they burst into a cascade of beautiful sparks,
Adhering gently to his back, as if they had always belonged there.
Strangely, he felt nothing.
No weight.
No warmth.
As if the wings were both *there*… and not.
Alive, yet silent.
**Intelligent.**
He didn't waste time pondering further.
Instead, he turned toward the white light—
Which coalesced into a single object:
A pendant.
Plain.
Unadorned.
No engravings.
No gems.
Just a simple chain and a ring-shaped piece of cold metal.
Kalm frowned.
**"Oh come on—
As if anything here is ever just 'ordinary'..."**