Life in the countryside is severely underrated.
I say it with a sincerity that burns in my gut. It's a wonder that so few people know about it, and I can't help but ask: why is that? There's nothing quite like waking up at four in the morning, when it's so cold you can feel the joints in your bones vibrating, just to go chop down a damn tree with an axe that's about as sharp as a plastic spoon.
It's a spiritual retreat. A religious experience, truly.
It's fascinating how you can feel every fiber of your muscles tearing day after day, slowly and agonizingly. Meanwhile, the "boss"—a guy who hasn't lifted anything heavier than a beer mug in the last ten years—spends his time yelling at you to hurry up because "the sun's already rising."
Damn him.
And don't even get me started on construction. Masonry work under the afternoon sun, right when that heavenly body seems to focus all its hatred on the back of your neck. There I am, carrying sacks of stone that weigh a ton, while my feet sink deeper and deeper into thick, disgusting mud. It's the best gym in the world, don't you think?
It's so "empowering" that when night finally comes, you don't even have the energy left to hate your own miserable existence. You collapse onto a pile of straw and pray that at some point you'll just stop breathing out of sheer inertia. It makes you feel alive… or at least reminds you that you're not dead yet, even if you wish you were with all your soul.
It's fun. Really.
Ignoring, of course, a few insignificant details like the bloody blisters, the fact that I get paid with "thanks" and half-eaten bread, or that I almost lost a pretty important part of my body, like my fingers.
All because that idiot Renii decided to "help" with a levitation spell that ended up destroying half the tower I was building for the village. The stone ended up crushing my foot… yeah, it's been a fantastic week.
It's been a week since that animal decided to turn himself into a giant grenade with a tail and ears. A damn week since I realized that in this world I arrived with no powers, not as the hero, with no magic and not even as a master of the spear. I came face to face with the harsh reality: I'm just another homeless nobody here.
Do you know how hard it was to get a damn job without having a "curse" or a defined class?
Turns out that in this world, being born without a curse is the equivalent of being an empty shell. Here, curses aren't something you cleanse with holy water; they're labels that define your social role, your level of power, and basically how much you're worth as a human being. If you don't have one, you're air. Invisible. A system error.
Imagine for a second that I put on imaginary glasses, stick out my front teeth like some intellectual rodent, and adopt a ridiculously pedantic posture to explain the hierarchy of this world to you.
Ahem, ahem. As I was saying:
The first category—and the one I unfortunately belong to, although saying I "belong" there is a compliment, because I feel completely useless—is Rank "Echo" (Insignificant).
It's the curse of ordinary people. It doesn't grant combat abilities, only small advantages or minor physical traits. In short, I'm so insignificant that the best thing I could've gotten would be an enviable physique or the ability to run a little faster. But hey! I don't even have that.
—HAHAHAHA —I let out a laugh soaked in sarcasm that tastes like bile. Ahem… as I was saying.
Echo Rank bearers can have "powers" as impressive as the following: The Compass Curse (the bearer always knows where north is).
See? It probably allows for a comfortable civilian life, but it has the military growth potential of a head of lettuce. In short, it's garbage. The biggest garbage that can exist. But of course, that's not the only rank. Obviously, we have the second tier.
Rank "Vein" (Functional): Here curses start manifesting as tools or manual abilities. This is the rank of craftsmen and frontline soldiers. They get paid a thousand times better than an "Echo." Well, what can I say? Looks like I've got a bit of bad luck… or a lot.
An example would be The Steel Thread Curse (the bearer can harden textile fibers with their touch). It's the backbone of the economy and basic warfare. People with these ranks think they're a big deal, the protagonists of their own story.
But WAIT! There are ranks much better than this garbage. Because if you thought hardening a sock was cool, no, my friend… there's much more up there.
Rank 3 "Specter" (Elemental Power): This is where things get serious. This is the level of Scholarly Mages and Elite Warriors. Their curse allows them to manipulate external energy, elements of nature, that kind of flashy trick that makes you look like a god among ants.
That would be Renii's case, I suppose. Although, being honest, the idiot could be considered Rank 2.5; he doesn't even know how to use elemental magic with any real naturalness. It's like giving a bazooka to a monkey: the potential is there, but the most likely outcome is that he'll blow all of us sky-high.
(Flashback)
We were in a cabin, sitting on dry straw with a campfire in the center. The flame seemed to have lit itself by pure miracle—or magic—because I didn't see anyone exhausting themselves trying to rub sticks together. Hanging over the fire were some chops from what looked like pork.
A few hours earlier, we had gone into the forest to gather berries for the villagers, a "respectable" job for people of our caliber. That's when we ran into a gigantic pig, about five feet three inches of pure muscle and bad temper. You can imagine the terror I felt; I ran through the entire forest with my lungs burning until I ran into Renii and Alele.
In the end, the three of us ended up running like maniacs even though Renii was, theoretically, the strongest in the group. Screaming, crying, and a chase worthy of a cheap comedy until the pig got tired. That was when they threw that unstable fire magic that exploded… the same one that turned the previous cabin into splinters. Yeah, that's how brilliant we are.
It was one of those heavy nights, right after I got fired from the quarry for "excessive bad luck." Too much bad luck.
—Hey… —Renii said, scratching the back of his neck while Alele was trying, for some stupid reason, to swallow a rock—. We've been together for days and all we do is yell insults at each other. Well, you yell at me. I'm Renii. Renii the super incredible, super awesome, super… you know.
I glanced at him sideways. His face was smeared with pork grease and he had a self-satisfied expression that made me want to punch him.
—I'm "none of your business"… —I sighed, letting my shoulders slump—. Just kidding. My name is Furanchesoku.
—Furan… what? What kind of name is that, kid? Sounds like something you'd shout while hunting a tribe of labubus.
—Where did you even get that name? —I asked, feeling a sharp discomfort.
—You said it once while you were delirious, don't you remember? —Renii mentioned indifferently.
<< A pleasure >>, I thought, while my soul hurt. At that moment I had no idea it would be nineteen years before I saw him again…
We were the perfect portrait of misery: a trio of useless people surviving on forced labor and accidental explosions.
(End of flashback)
A Rank 3 bearer is no longer considered a normal person; in every sense of the word, they are a living weapon.
If you're Rank 3 and have elemental powers, maybe you got lucky in the genetic lottery of this crazy world. I just hope that if I ever get something like that one day, I'll use it for good and not for blowing up other people's cabins or, failing that, throwing it at animals that eat energy and end up turning into biological grenades.
There are things I didn't mention at the time. For example: how the hell is Alele still alive after such an explosion?
Well, I survived by a miracle thanks to Renii using a protection spell that blocked the damage around him. For the first time in my life I thought that guy was useful for something. But honestly, the detonation was so massive that absolutely nothing was left of the cabin. Imagine an explosion so violent it disintegrated even the wood dust. Not even the memory of the walls remained.
I'm getting sidetracked. Alele survived simply because he's a spirit; he has nothing "human" in the biological sense. He doesn't know mortality the way we do. He's an eternal being, even if he behaves like a pig. Honestly he looks more like a sloth having an identity crisis than a hybrid between a cat and a fox.
So imagine the scene: I was lying on the ground, still processing the fact that all my limbs were still attached to my body. Renii threw himself to the side to catch his breath, and because of the force of the shove, I rolled a little farther away from him. I slowly got up, feeling a sharp pain in my lower back because that brute had thrown me flat onto the hard ground.
And there was the final picture: the ground was the only thing that had survived the disaster, and in the middle of nothingness, a damn animal sleeping peacefully as if it hadn't caused a terrorist attack a few seconds earlier.
It's the kind of moment that makes you want to die. Truly, it makes you want to die from sheer indignation…
Rank 4 "Legacy" (Hereditary Power): This is where genetics becomes elitist. These are curses passed down exclusively through noble bloodlines. They're stable, powerful, and burned into the pages of history.
Imagine being able to freeze the air in a radius of ten blessed meters just because your great-great-grandfather was an important guy. Those who hold this rank define who controls the political power of the country. They're the ones who own the board.
If you're impressed by that, imagine me, who can't even read in this world, but already memorized the hierarchy.
—Heh… hehe… —I laughed in such a strange way that I forgot for a second that I was talking to myself, sitting on my straw bed, explaining all this to the air like I was in a TV series.
From the doorframe, Renii and Alele were watching me. Their faces were something else; a mixture of fear and pity as they saw me gesturing and laughing with no one in front of me. They left the house with exaggerated care, slowly closing the door so they wouldn't interrupt my "moment." I suppose they thought work stress had finally fried my brain. I don't blame them.
Rank 5 "Abyss" (Existential Mutation): At this level, the word "person" stops making sense. The curse begins devouring the bearer's humanity to grant immense power. This is the rank of the Ancient Beings.
You might be born, for example, with The Curse of Eternal Hunger: massive physical strength, but with a body that requires constant consumption of vital essence just to avoid collapsing. Pity the being who gets something like that; it's a sentence to live as a pariah. They almost always end up exiled or feared like monsters. According to the book they're "common" to encounter, but I haven't run into one yet… and I hope it stays that way.
One of the things I wondered on my second day was: why the hell do I understand the language of this place?
Turns out I do have a power. A pathetic Echo Rank. I can translate and understand any language in this world instinctively. I'm not completely useless after all, right?
But of course, this world doesn't give anything for free. My ability has a limitation that makes me want to cry: I can understand it and speak it, but I can't write a single letter. I'm fifty percent useful and fifty percent illiterate.
What despair. What absolute disappointment I feel in myself.
—RANK 6! HAHAHAHAHA! THE ANOMALY RANK! —My laughter exploded again, this time with a much darker tone.
If someone peeked in right now, the scene would be horrifying. I'm hanging from the ceiling, my legs wedged between the wooden beams that support the structure. I let my body drop toward the void, my torso swaying in the air while the blood rushes to my head. With my vision upside down, I continue my lecture:
—Curses that shouldn't exist because they contradict the laws of nature. They're extremely rare. One example: The Curse of Static Time. The bearer can stop their own time for three seconds; they become invulnerable but remain immobile. Imagine that bearers of this rank are directly monitored by the "Lesser Entities."
I think I'm going insane. That book they sold me is driving me crazy.
I dropped suddenly. My body slammed face-first into the floor with a dull thud. It was a spectacular hit to the head, the kind that makes you see stars, but I didn't care. I stayed there sprawled out, staring into nothing, pointing a trembling finger at the ceiling I had just abandoned.
—"But Furanchesoku, what are Entities?" you ask, dear viewer —I said to the empty air, as if an invisible camera were filming my misery—. Hehe… they're beings so strong that in this world they're worshipped as gods and that's it. That's all the damn book said. Basically, they're the Jesus Christs of this crazy world.
I closed my eyes, feeling the pulse of the lump that was beginning to swell on my forehead. There I was, an interdimensional homeless man, giving theological explanations to the ants on the floor while my only friends closed the door from the outside so they wouldn't catch my madness.
Fascinating. Simply fascinating.
And to finish this lesson in social humility with a flourish: Rank 7.
I'd love to tell you what kind of absurd miracle of power it represents, but the page is torn. All I managed to see was a battered edge mentioning something about "Singularities" before my patience completely ran out. I'll stay curious, I suppose. Or maybe I don't care. It's probably another ridiculous power that only exists so the gods can laugh at us from their VIP balcony.
I got up from the floor, feeling my bones creak in protest. I grabbed the book lying open in front of me and, with a sharp motion, closed it. There was no respect, no care for knowledge; I simply tossed it into the trash bag with a free throw from the middle of the room.
It was an incredible shot. A perfect parabola. Maybe I was born to play basketball, although I doubt this world has sports that don't involve decapitating someone or starving to death.
The point of all this theory is that my first week here boiled down to a single goal: get a job and get paid. Something that turned out to be a humiliating odyssey.
—You're a weakling! —the first idiot I asked for a job yelled at me—. You don't have the Berserker mark or the strength of a Warrior. Go home, kid.
<< What the hell is a Berserker? >> I thought, while the echo of Renii's voice in my head tried to find a logical answer.
—I don't have a home —I replied to the guy, putting on my best "please kill me now so I don't have to do it myself and make things sad" face.
I guess my abandoned puppy expression worked, because in the end he let me carry stones for half the minimum wage. A generous offer, according to him. An insult to existence, according to me.
Renii wasn't much help either. The idiot felt so guilty about the cabin explosion that he spent the whole day trying to "bless" the workers' tools. The result was always the same: shovels spontaneously catching fire or Alele trying to steal the lumberjacks' lunch while they were distracted putting out Renii's fires.
It's fascinating. I've truly fallen into the most efficient team in the world… if the goal is self-destruction.
The economy here isn't hard to understand, it's like real life but more annoying. There are no apps to manage your money and wallets seem like an invention from the future. Carrying coins in leather bags is a medieval pain. Gold is the top, equivalent to 30 silver coins, and 1 silver equals 60 copper. Easy, right? The only annoying part is my pay. The minimum wage for an Echo Rank is 30 bronze coins. I got 15. Half. For "lack of experience."
—Ah, what a life… what will tomorrow bring? Maybe a bomb will fall and finally end my miserable existence —I let out a loud, exaggerated laugh, almost hysterical.
At that exact moment, the ground vibrated. Dull explosions began rumbling in the distance.
I felt like I had jinxed it. I froze in the middle of the house before running to the door. My first thought was that Renii and Alele had done something again, but when I stepped outside, I didn't see anything. I breathed with relief that lasted less than a second.
The booms returned, louder, coming directly from the forest.
There was no other choice. I rushed inside, put on my "adventure clothes"—or whatever they call these rags—and grabbed my spear. I ran out of the village straight toward the source of the chaos in the forest. My luck couldn't be worse, but my curiosity was stronger than my survival instinct.