In this world, a human is not born with a system immediately, Instead, it remains hidden and silent, watching from the shadows until the child reaches the age of seven. Only then does it appear, without a single exception.
On a single unified day known as Evaluation Day, a day considered a grand celebration for many. Children smile, parents cry tears of joy, and children take their first true step in life. The evaluation ceremony is held in the capital, Kisa.
On that day, every child begins their journey with their personal system, and with the path it has chosen for them.
Perhaps heroes, perhaps kings, perhaps farmers, mages, or assassins, perhaps masters of manipulating the emotions of women and men, or even powerful demons and great vampires.
All of this happens after the child receives their system, which determines their path and direction in life.
My name is Shin Kaka Dong and I live in the Kingdom of Storma alongside my parents, Sao Kaka Dong and Mi Kaka Dong.
The system chose the path of the Super Soldier for my father, while it chose the path of Healing and Medicine for my mother.
My father always told me stories about heroes and kings whose paths, ranks, and professions were drawn and arranged by the system and I dreamed of becoming like them, and my parents dreamed of that even more than I did, They placed all their hopes on me.
After the system grants you your path and profession at the age of seven, you enroll in the Academy of Rizados and graduate at the age of fifteen. After that, a gate opens that leads you to a different world, a world where you work to dominate, control, achieve objectives, and bring wealth to the mighty Kingdom of Storma, which is considered the greatest kingdom in the history of this world.
Seven years were all the system needed to gather data and information: fear, desires, reactions, and even dreams their owners do not remember.
And when the time comes, the system does not make mistakes, does not arrive late, and does not ignore anyone, regardless of gender, appearance, religion, beliefs, ideas, emotions, strength of will, or dreams.
Therefore, Evaluation Day was no different from any other year, except that it was far more cruel to me.
The stone plaza was filled with people, and all eyes were fixed on the great floating board in the sky; a board that does not judge people, but decides their paths with a single word that accepts no argument.
Names appeared one after another, and with each name emerged a clear description: talent, rank, and a defined path, as if life itself were reduced to three lines.
And when my name was called, Shin Kaka Dong, a heavy silence fell, like the sound of the dead in their graves at night.
I extended my hand as everyone else had I waited for the flash, the symbol, any sign Nothing appeared.
Seconds passed, then heavy minutes, before a single line finally formed on the glowing blue board, surrounded by a cold aura: "Failed to recognize the user."
I saw my father among the gathered crowd and My dear mother began to cry, and my father tightly embraced her to comfort her. He did not look at me, not even for a single moment.
Whispers spread across the plaza, followed by suppressed laughter, One of the supervisors said coldly, "Register him among the failures."
I did not object. And why would I? I did not scream. I was in shock. I simply stared at that single line that did not disappear, as if it refused to leave.
In a world governed by cosmic laws called System, there is no such thing as emptiness.
Everything is defined, classified, and bound to an algorithm that does not err, or so it is said.
Thus, failure was not the true shock. The real shock was an error, one that meant I was outside the equation, as if my very existence had not yet been registered in this world.
After that, the guards escorted me away from the plaza without questions The corridors we passed through were familiar, yet they felt longer, perhaps narrower, As if the walls themselves were bending to avoid looking at me or touching me.
At the rear gate, where the forgotten ones like me are sent, one of the guards paused for a moment, cast me a brief glance, then said with cold mockery, "If the system did not recognize you, that is worse than failure, you trash."
They left me there, without a path or a rank, and without even a name fit for use.
Only then did I realize the harsh truth: this system did not judge me as a failure, it did not acknowledge me at all.
And while the floating board in the sky continued announcing the paths of the other children, my single line remained suspended in the background, never erased, never updated, as if it were waiting for me.
From that moment on, I was no longer merely a failure in the academy's records, but a living error in a system that does not acknowledge mistakes.