Chapter 35 – Finally getting a Class!
Liora handed over her fake identity card with a calm face. Her heart wasn't nearly as composed.
She lied smoothly, "D-rank class."
A complete lie.
But she had no choice. Revealing her true class here would bring more problems than it would solve. The last thing she needed was someone digging into her background while she was still vulnerable and unprepared.
The guards didn't press as it seems she wasn't the one who killed the boss, just a weak bystander. One of the kingdom's stationed mages stepped forward and healed her injuries with a flick of his staff. Warm light wrapped around her ribs, sealing the worst of the wounds.
It took bit of time, even then it wasn't completely healed.
"Looks stable," the mage said. "Let her through."
Liora bowed slightly. Then walked. Fast. Without looking back.
'Just get out of here.'
She didn't stop until she was far away from the dungeon camp. Only then did she exhale.
That boy...
That silver-haired, cross-eyed boy with the quiet voice and impossible strength.
'He's still inside.'
It hadn't even been a full minute after he entered the boss room when her portal activated. She couldn't begin to guess what had happened in there.
But she knew one thing clearly.
'If anyone can come out of that place alive... it's him.'
Ten minutes earlier...
Leon stood silently inside the boss chamber, eyes sweeping across every corner.
Nothing.
He checked behind every stone wall, under the remains of the twin-headed beast, even the cracks in the floor.
But unlike the throne room—there were no hidden vaults. No ancient doors. No divine runes etched beneath the blood.
Just silence.
And a faint aftershock of power still buzzing through the stone.
'Guess that's it, then.'
The mana core was already stored.
The corpse too.
The skill rune he found—[Lightning Bolt (Common)]—was disappointing, but it was still something. He'd added it to his inventory without much thought.
And now, in front of him, the portal shimmered—the only way out.
Before stepping in, Leon crouched beside a broken slab and reached into his inventory.
Time to hide everything.
He tore strips from his old clothes and wrapped them tightly around his lower face, forming a crude mask. Then tied his long silver hair into a tight bun and tucked it under the cloak's hood. The fabric draped over his shoulders, concealing as much as possible.
He glanced down once.
'Still thin. Still sharp.'
But no longer a half-starved boy from the slums.
No one outside would recognize him.
Not anymore.
With that, he stepped into the portal.
Light surged.
Space distorted.
Then everything went quiet.
He stood inside a blank space—white, endless, silent.
It reminded him of Liora's description. A place between realities.
A glowing message hovered in front of his eyes.
[Connecting to the Lesser System...]
Leon blinked.
But then the text flickered—twitched—and cracked like glass.
Another message replaced it.
[Error: Host is already connected to a superior system.]
[Lesser System Integration Denied.]
[Resuming under Cosmic System Protocols.]
Leon stared at the glowing words.
'...Cosmic System again.'
He didn't fully understand it. But this wasn't the first time.
This was the same thing that had triggered when he merged with the Orb. When his gacha treasures first activated. He got message about connecting to cosmic system.
The Lesser System was for the world.
But whatever he had...
Was beyond it.
His gaze narrowed faintly.
'Let's see what kind of awakening that gives me.'
The white void flickered.
For a moment, Leon felt nothing—no weight, no gravity, no sound. Just silence. Then, a pulse of light shimmered ahead, and the system stirred.
Not with calm.
But with authority.
[Evaluation Complete.]
[Result: SSS+ ]
Leon's brows lifted slightly.
'SSS... plus?'
He had expected something absurd. After what he'd been through—after merging with the Orb, after killing that monster from a nightmare—he knew he wasn't just a fluke.
But still. Seeing it in text...
His heart gave a quiet thud. Not fear. Not pride. Just confirmation.
'Guess I really broke the scale.'
A new screen bloomed into view.
Dozens of options appeared before him—glowing, floating, moving as if they breathed with power. Each one pulsed with its own hue, like fragments of fate dangling in front of him.
[Choose Your Class:]
Elemental Paragon (SSS) [Unique] The Keeper of The Dimensions (SSS) [Ultra Rare] Lord of Flame and Thunder (SSS) [Ultra Rare] Lord of Water and Ice (SSS) [Ultra Rare] Lord of Time and Space (SSS) [Ultra Rare] Lord of Light and Darkness (SSS) [Ultra Rare] Lord of Wind and Earth (SSS) [Ultra Rare] — and others, stretching far beyond.
Leon scanned through them, eyes moving with calm calculation.
'So that's how this works...'
Each name sounded like a prophecy. No swordsman. No mage. No generic nonsense. These were concepts. Pillars.
And only one stood out from the rest.
Elemental Paragon.
The tag next to it read "Unique." Just that one. Every other class—no matter how flashy—was merely "Ultra Rare."
'Only one marked unique. Everything else... is just close.'
He tilted his head slightly.
'So the system wants me to take it.'
And honestly? He could feel it too.
The moment his eyes landed on the words Elemental Paragon, the space around him seemed to tighten, as if the choice was already fated.
But Leon wasn't the type to jump at what was offered. Not without thinking.
'This isn't just picking a class.'
'It's shaping what I'll become.'
And for someone already tied to something greater—already branded by a Cosmic System—he had no intention of choosing lightly.
Not this time.
Not ever again.
He stood in silence.
Evaluating.
Because what came next... would decide everything.
Leon didn't choose immediately.
His eyes lingered on the class list, flicking between the options—one at the top, and dozens below it.
'Lord of Steel and Storm... Lord of Fire and Wind... they all sound powerful.'
'But they're bound. Limited. Each tied to just two elements.'
He glanced again at the one floating above the rest:
Elemental Paragon (SSS) [Unique]
'Only one with that mark.'
'Only one that fits what I've got.'
He focused on it. Just thinking about the name made something inside his chest stir. The core of mana embedded within him—his very center—reacted. Not violently. Just... like it recognized the name.
'So that's your vote too, huh?'
He exhaled once, slowly. His expression didn't shift.
'Makes sense.'
'The other classes are strong, but they're likely bound to few elements.'
'This one... this one feels like mine.'
He didn't hesitate after that.
"Elemental Paragon," he said aloud. "That's the one."
And the system moved.
Quietly.
Powerfully.
As if it had simply been waiting for him to say it.
Leon didn't get much time to admire the choice he'd made.
The moment he confirmed Elemental Paragon, the space around him trembled.
Faint cracks of light began spreading across the white void—thin lines at first, then dozens, then hundreds.
'Right... I forgot these dungeons don't wait around once the boss is dead.'
The system hadn't even given him a proper notification.
No ceremony.
No grand flourish.
Just a flicker of acknowledgment... and now the whole realm was starting to fall apart.
That meant he'd probably be sent out in a few seconds—whether he liked it or not.
He looked down at his hand.
No visible change yet.
No wave of power or sudden rush. But the core inside his body—it pulsed once, strong and steady.
'It responded... the moment I picked that class.'
That was enough for now.
Leon stood straight, letting the glow of the collapsing space swirl around him.
'Guess I'll check the details later.'
Light consumed his vision—fast, bright, absolute.
And just like that, the dungeon disappeared
Chapter 36 – Missed You!
The world returned in a flash of blinding white, then steadied beneath his feet. The ground was rough. Familiar. Real. Leon blinked slowly, eyes adjusting as the pressure in his chest eased just a bit.
He was out.
The scent of damp earth mixed with faint trails of mana in the air. Soldiers stood ahead in formation—uniformed guards and mages posted along the perimeter of the Class Awakening site, their expressions unreadable. But beyond them, past the cordon, one figure stood apart.
Commander Seraphine Vael.
Long strands of purple hair trailed behind her, caught in the soft wind. Her face, always sharp with discipline and grace, was locked in place—those amethyst eyes staring straight ahead, glowing beneath the overcast sky with chilling clarity.
Leon's shoulders sagged slightly. His jaw loosened.
'...I made it.'
He didn't smile. He didn't wave. But something tugged faintly at the edge of his heart. Relief—not just for surviving, but because she was there. Waiting. No lectures. No drills. Just presence her quiet presence waiting for him.
Then she vanished.
A blur. A flicker of motion beyond normal eyes.
Before his next breath, cold steel pressed against his neck. Her sword—bare and gleaming—hovered one twitch away from opening his throat. She hadn't hesitated. No words. No questions.
Leon didn't flinch.
This time, he could feel it—still couldn't see it. The way she moved, the shift in her weight, the mana drawn tight through her limbs. Her flash step wasn't a mystery to him anymore. It wasn't teleportation. It was skill, control, speed... and now, he understood only a little.
But she seemed much faster.
Before he could speak, her voice slid through the air, cold and even, but edged with something sharper.
"Where did you get that cloak?"
Leon's eyes narrowed, just a fraction.
The blade didn't shake. Her stance was perfect. But her aura boiled around her, rippling with grief, fury, and something deeply personal. Beneath the mask covering most of his face, Leon breathed in slowly.
'She thinks I'm wearing it because... I killed him.'
Because Leon—the silver-haired boy who trained beside her, who laughed through pain, who endured three years in her shadow—didn't walk out of the dungeon.
Instead, this masked figure appeared, silent, hidden, clad in the cloak of her disciple like a thief wearing stolen pride.
She had waited for him. Prayed for him.
Now, she was ready to kill to know the truth.
Leon stood still. He didn't reach for his weapons. He didn't plead. Around them, not a single guard stepped forward. The mages didn't blink. No one moved. To them, this was either a punishment... or an execution.
The dungeon had collapsed behind him.
And the boy they remembered had not returned.
In their eyes, this was Seraphine's burden—a consequence of letting a child enter a dungeon that never should've existed. Nobody voiced it aloud, but the blame was heavy in every glance.
Leon slowly looked up.
Even with his face concealed, his voice slipped through with calm weight. "...I missed you."
The sword didn't lower. But her fingers curled tight.
And for the first time, Seraphine's breath faltered.
Farther back, the watching soldiers tensed.
They couldn't hear the words exchanged, but the image before them was striking—Commander Vael, sword to a boy's throat, expression carved in stone. From what they could see, she hadn't even blinked.
They assumed he was a thief. Someone who'd stripped the cloak from a body inside. Someone who thought they could walk away with it like a trophy.
They had seen that cloak before—on the boy who followed the commander like a shadow. That boy was small, proud, sharp-eyed. And now this one—taller, older, silent—had taken his place?
They expected blood.
But then—Seraphine froze.
Not fully. Not outwardly. But inside, her mind was spiraling. That voice... the way he spoke. The rhythm, the spacing, the weight behind each syllable.
'That's him.'
She scanned him again. The posture. The shoulders. The silence behind the mask. His hair was bound, hidden. His aura masked. But she saw past it.
He hadn't wanted to be recognized. He had thought this through. Carefully.
'Smart,' she thought. 'But why does his body feel different and how is so tall now? What happened inside?'
Her thoughts swirled, but her hand didn't tremble. She kept the act alive, blade firm at his neck.
Then, with a practiced flick, she sheathed the sword.
Without warning, she hoisted Leon over her shoulder.
"You," she muttered, tone clipped and cold, "are coming with me."
Leon didn't resist. Not even a twitch. He had felt the flicker of recognition in her reaction. The softening in her eyes. That was all he needed.
He twisted slightly on her shoulder, throwing his arms out dramatically. "Save me!" he cried in mock terror. "I'm too young and beautiful to die like this!"
His feet kicked at the air. His voice carried just far enough.
The guards blinked. A few shifted uneasily. Not one of them laughed.
Seraphine didn't stop. She marched straight past the formation and stopped before the lead mages and command agents stationed nearby.
Her eyes narrowed. Her voice dropped.
"If a single word about what you saw here today leaves this place," she said, "I will personally come find you."
She let the sentence hang. Then scanned every face one by one.
"I don't care who you serve. I don't care where you run. I will remember."
The first mage swallowed hard. Another saluted.
"M-Ma'am! Understood!"
"Not a word, Commander!" a soldier barked, his uniform suddenly too tight around his throat.
As she turned sharply away, Leon continued his performance—arms floppy, voice exaggerated, eyes glinting beneath the shadow of his hood. He didn't look scared.
But to the others?
He was already dead.
The commander didn't walk. She stormed.
They reached the black carriage stationed just beyond the trees, its silver trim glinting faintly in the mist. Seraphine opened the door with one hand and dumped Leon inside with the same motion. Then she stepped in behind him and slammed it shut.
"Take us back to the estate," she said.
The driver's voice came immediately. "Yes, Commander."
The carriage jerked into motion, wheels crunching over packed dirt.
The woman driving was no ordinary attendant. She was Seraphine's shadow—her blade in courtrooms and battlefields alike. And she didn't look back. Didn't speak. Didn't ask.
To her, the boy inside wasn't a guest.
He was a corpse.
Whether he had murdered Seraphine's disciple or scavenged his body, it didn't matter. The sentence would be the same.
Inside, the carriage fell quiet.
The windows fogged faintly from breath and tension.
Seraphine sat opposite him, body still, expression unreadable. She hadn't spoken again. Her hands rested on her thighs, but the tightness in her fingers betrayed the storm inside.
Leon didn't wait.
He raised his arms and calmly undid the knot of the cloth mask.
The fabric slipped away and pooled in his lap.
Then he reached up and pulled down the hood.
His silver-white hair fell into view, catching the sunlight.
His face—older, sharper, but unmistakably his—turned toward her.
And for the first time since he had stepped out of the dungeon, his eyes met hers.
"No more hiding, behind a sarcatic facade" he wishpered quietly.