Gabriel died on his knees.
The sword tore through his chest like a burning blade of ice, runes sizzling and fading as life bled out of him. His fingers clawed desperately at the blood-soaked mud beneath, muscles spasming with the last flickers of consciousness. Around him, the world crumbled. The war was lost. The kingdom lay in ruin. The sky cracked open with violent bursts of spellfire, painting the heavens with smoke and ash.
And Gabriel—
A nameless soldier.
A street orphan who had fought tooth and nail, breaking through ranks of nobles and monsters alike.
He died like a forgotten footnote.
"You were never supposed to exist."
Those words came not from a god.
Not from a king.
But from a man who had once called himself one.
⸻
Darkness swallowed him.
No warmth. No pain. No sound.
No voices. No judgment.
Only nothing.
⸻
And then—
Air rushed into his lungs, burning, sharp, like a punch to the chest. His eyes snapped open, vision swimming in a world that wasn't his. Concrete walls stretched before him. Neon signs flickered erratically. The metallic scent of gasoline mixed with rain filled his nostrils.
This wasn't his world.
He blinked against the harsh glow of flickering city lights, heart pounding. Towers of steel scraped the sky, cables crisscrossed like webs overhead. A drone buzzed past, trailing a glowing advertisement: "Awakeners! Register your Traits today!"
Gabriel's mind reeled. This place was familiar—not from life, but from the pages of a book he'd once read.
Awakening Order: Rise of the Chosen.
A novel set in a world torn by dimensional rifts, where dungeons spilled monsters, and humanity's only hope was to awaken strange powers known as Traits.
A boy rises. Becomes a hero. Builds a harem. Ascends to godhood.
That boy was not him.
He wasn't anyone from that story.
Yet here he was—alive. Breathing. Reborn in a world that should not exist.
⸻
A soft chime sounded, clear and cold.
Before him, a translucent blue screen shimmered to life.
[System Initialization Complete]
[Welcome, Gabriel.]
[Age: 16]
[Race: ???]
[Rank: Unawakened]
[Trait: False Monarch – Active]
[Unique Ability: DOMAIN – Sealed]
[Skill Slots: 0/5]
[Shadows: 0/10]
[Domain Radius: 5 meters – Dormant]
[Status: Transmigrated Entity]
[System Sync: 17%]
His race was blank. The system couldn't classify him. That was good.
[Trait: False Monarch]
Type: Cursed Trait
Description: When two or more sentient beings perceive your existence, your presence emits the illusion of SS-rank authority.
Drawback: The aura is false. True power remains unawakened.
Passive: "Perceived Presence" – activates under observation.
Active: "Sovereign's Glare" – instills fear or submission in weaker minds.
Hidden Bonus: ??? (Locked)
Gabriel rose to his feet.
He looked down at his body—lean, young, barely trained. Sixteen years old, no weapons, no mana. Nothing but cold resolve.
And yet, as he stepped from the alley into the neon-lit street, people instinctively moved aside.
A businessman clutching his briefcase froze, eyes wide with panic. A group of students fell silent, whispering behind their hands.
To them, Gabriel felt like a calamity—a living storm waiting to break.
All because of his Trait.
An illusion of strength far beyond his true power.
"They're already kneeling," he muttered under his breath.
⸻
He pulled up his status screen again.
[Name: Gabriel]
[Age: 16]
[Trait: False Monarch]
[Unique Ability: DOMAIN (Sealed)]
[Race: ???]
[Shadows: 0/10]
[Credits: 0]
His Domain was sealed, but alive beneath the surface. Five meters of space—his personal godhood, waiting to grow.
He knew what was coming.
Three weeks from now, the city would face its first major dungeon break. Chaos, bloodshed, and government collapse.
But Gabriel had knowledge the story's protagonist lacked.
There was a hidden dungeon—unstable, unlisted, forgotten.
It would open within seventy-two hours.
An abandoned subway station on the city's east side.
Inside it lay a weapon—a katana.
God-ranked. Soul-bound. Evolutionary.
No name.
No wielder.
Until now.
⸻
He walked forward, slow, measured steps.
His mind raced with cold calculation.
"I don't need allies."
"I don't need fate."
"I only need power."
This world had heroes.
It had chosen ones.
Gabriel was neither.
He was a mistake.
A pawn.
A shadow beyond the script.
And when he took the stage—
Everyone would kneel.