The world no longer asked who you were.
It asked what rank you stood at.
Arthur adiusted the deliverv crate on his back, the strap cutting into his shoulder as he moved through the morning streets.
The container weighed a little over twenty kilos -nothing impossible--but enough to remind him of reality with every step.
He breathed carefully.
Four steps in
Four steps out
It was the most basic breathing rhythm taught to Rank 1 Martial Artists, the first step into a world where strength defined vorth. Arthur had learned it at twelve. At eighteen, it was still all he had.
Around him, the city roared with controlled power.
Martial artists filled the streets like workers once did. Some reinforced buildings with bare hands glowing faintly with energy Others leapt across intersections, landing without sound. Even sanitation crews used enhanced bodies to lift loads that would lave broken bones a decade ago
Arthur felt the difference whenever they passed him.
Pressure.
Invisible, but unmistakable
Rank.
He was Martial Artist Rank 1-the bottom of the ladder recognized by the World Government. Stronger than a normal human. Weaker than almost everyone else.
He passed a public training square and instinctively slowed.
A group of young men and women moved in unison, fists cutting through the air with sharp cracks. Their strikes carried controlled energy, not wasteful, not stiff
Rank 2
Refined Martial Artists
Arthur could tell from the smoothness o their movement. Rank 2s had reinforced nuscles and stabilized internal energy They could fight. They could win.
At the edge of the square stood an instructor, arms crossed, eyes sharp. The air around him felt heavy, as though the space itself esisted movement.
Arthur swallowed
Rank 3.
Advanced Martial Artist
Someone who could kill a Low-Level Void Raider alone.
Arthur looked away
Watching only reminded him of the distance -measured not in talent, but in resources time, and opportunity.
Above the street, a city-wide holographic screen flickered to life.
The ambient noise dipped.
WORLD GOVERNMENT EMERGENCY BULLETIN
Citizens below Rank 3 are advised to remain indoors. City Defense Units deployed.
Murmurs spread through the crowd.
Low-Level Void Raiders.
Arthur's jaw tightened.
Low-Level didn't mean weak.
It meant they weren't commanders.
A Rank 3 Martial Artist could shatter concrete, snap steel rods, and kill ar untrained person with a single blow.
Low-Level Void Raiders possessed that same raw power-along with alien physiology that made them harder to kill.
For a Rank 1 like Arthur, encountering one meant death
He didn't slow.
Sector 9 was far away. The World Government wouldn't let something that strong roam freely. Rank 4 and above defenders would handle it.
That was how the world worked.
The strong protected order.
The weak stayed alive by staying out of the way.
Arthur completed his delivery at a reinforced residential block, scanned his wrist ID, and waited for confirmation.
Delivery completed. Bonus credited
He exhaled.
Enough for groceries. Enough for school supplies. Enough to keep things stable
His communicator vibrated.
Arthur smiled faintly.
"I won't," he whispered.
On the way home, he took the longer route- through an industrial zone long abandoned after automation and martial labor replaced actories. Cracked buildings stood like skeletons, walls scarred by old battles and reinforced unevenly with alloy plating.
Dangerous.
Which meant fewer patrols.
Which meant opportunity.
Arthur moved cautiously. He wasn' reckless. Even at Rank 1, awareness mattered. He listened for echoes. Watched shadows. Felt vibrations through his boots.
Then he smelled it.
Sharp. Metallic. Alien
Arthur froze
His pulse spiked as he followed the scent to a collapsed warehouse.
There--half-buried under twisted steel-lay a corpse.
Not human.
The creature's exoskeleton was cracked open, dark ichor dried across the concrete. Its limbs were thin but dense, claws still sharp despite the damage.
A Void Raider.
Low-Level.
Even dead, the body radiated faint pressure.
This thing, alive, had possessed the strength of a Rank 3 Martial Artist.
Arthur scanned his surroundings frantically.
No movement.
No patrols.
No signs of another body.
It had likely been intercepted and killed quickly by a city defender.
Arthur should have left.
Every instinct told him to run.
Then—
His vision blurred.
The world sharpened, edges becoming unnaturally clear.
A translucent interface unfolded before his eyes.
[Adaptive Attribute System Initialized]
[Host: Arthur – Martial Artist Rank 1]
Arthur staggered back.
"What…?"
The interface continued.
[Detected Energy Source]
[Target: Void Raider Corpse]
[Combat Strength: Rank 3 Equivalent]
Arthur's breathing quickened.
Systems were myths.
Urban legends erased by the World Government within hours.
Yet the interface didn't disappear.
Instead, new text appeared.
[Attribute Conversion Rule Confirmed]
•Rank 1 Source → 1 Attribute Point
•Rank 2 Source → 10 Attribute Points
•Rank 3 Source → 100 Attribute Points
•Scaling: ×10 per Rank Increase
Arthur's eyes widened.
"One hundred…?"
That was more than a Rank 1 martial artist could accumulate through months of training supplements.
The system displayed another prompt.
[Absorption Available]
[Estimated Gain: 100 Attribute Points]
[Risk Level: Low]
Arthur's hands trembled.
This corpse represented killing power beyond him.
But also—
Opportunity beyond him.
If he walked away, nothing changed.
He would remain Rank 1. Always catching up. Always careful. Always hoping the world never forced him into a fight he couldn't survive.
Arthur clenched his fists.
Slowly, deliberately, he spoke.
"Confirm."
The corpse dissolved.
Not violently.
It broke apart into countless particles of pale light that flowed into Arthur's body.
Pain erupted—deep and crushing.
His muscles tightened as if forged. His bones vibrated. His breathing shattered as energy rushed into channels that had always felt narrow and empty.
Arthur dropped to one knee, gasping.
Then it stopped.
[Absorption Complete]
[Source Rank: 3]
[Attribute Points Acquired: +100]
The interface faded.
Arthur stayed still, heart pounding.
Gradually, awareness returned.
His breathing felt deeper. Smoother.
The constant fatigue in his legs—years of overwork—had eased.
He stood slowly.
He was still Rank 1.
That much was clear.
But within that rank…
He was no longer ordinary.
Arthur clenched his fist, feeling unfamiliar efficiency in the movement.
"This doesn't break the rules," he whispered.
"It just… changes the pace."
Sirens echoed in the distance.
City Defense Units sweeping the area.
Arthur didn't wait.
He ran.
Past broken warehouses. Past rusted machines. Past the invisible boundary between danger and home.
As he reached his apartment building, he slowed, calming his breathing.
His sister would be waiting by the door.
His brother would be training too hard.
His parents would ask about his day.
Arthur touched his chest.
Whatever this system was…
He would use it carefully.
Because under a world ruled by ranks—
A Rank 1 had just found a way to climb.