Chapter 1: The Useless Class

Chapter 1: The Useless Class

The awakening hall was built to make children feel small.

Its ceiling rose higher than the tallest watchtower in the outer district, painted with golden constellations and heroic figures who had supposedly received their classes beneath the eyes of the gods. Sunlight poured through stained glass windows, turning the marble floor red, blue, and violet. Every color looked expensive.

Ilyan Vale stood near the back of the hall with the other scholarship students and tried not to look impressed.

That was difficult.

Aureum Royal Academy did not simply display wealth. It weaponized it.

The noble students stood in clean rows at the front, their uniforms trimmed with silver thread, family crests shining at their collars. Behind them waited instructors, priests, guild observers, military recruiters, and several bored-looking nobles who had come to purchase talent before anyone else could.

At the center of the hall floated the Awakening Ledger.

It was a massive book with no table beneath it, its white pages turning slowly by themselves. Chains of light circled its cover. Every few seconds, the ledger released a pulse of mana that made the air tremble.

One by one, students stepped forward.

One by one, their futures were decided.

“Selwyn Morcant.”

A pale boy with perfect posture placed his hand on the ledger.

The pages flashed.

[Class Awakened: Shadow Fencer]

Applause erupted from the noble rows.

“Excellent combat class,” whispered someone nearby. “Assassin branch with duelist compatibility.”

“House Morcant produces monsters every generation.”

The boy smiled as if the result had merely confirmed what everyone already knew.

The next student awakened as a Flame Adept. The one after that became a Silver Spearman. Then came Beast Tamer, Rune Knight, Storm Archer, Battle Priest, and Iron Monk.

Each class appeared above the ledger in huge letters of light.

Each result was followed by applause, whispers, calculations, and immediate judgment.

Ilyan listened carefully.

Not because he enjoyed it, but because listening had always been safer than speaking.

“Lucien Vael.”

The hall became quieter.

A tall boy with dark blue hair walked forward. Unlike the others, he did not glance at the crowd. He placed his hand on the ledger as if the ancient artifact should be honored to receive him.

The pages turned violently.

A column of silver light rose from the book.

[Class Awakened: Royal Duelist]

For the first time that morning, even the instructors reacted.

“A high noble combat class.”

“Sword aura compatibility.”

“Command potential too.”

“House Vael will be pleased.”

Lucien removed his hand from the ledger and turned around. For a brief moment, his eyes passed over the scholarship students at the back.

Not with hatred.

That would have required effort.

He looked at them the way someone might look at dust on a window.

Then he returned to his place.

Ilyan lowered his gaze.

Beside him, a broad-shouldered girl with short copper hair muttered, “I hope he trips.”

Ilyan glanced at her.

She noticed and frowned. “What?”

“Nothing,” Ilyan said. “I was just thinking the floor is too polished. Your wish has a chance.”

The girl blinked once, then snorted.

“I’m Mira,” she said.

“Ilyan.”

“Good luck, Ilyan.”

“You too.”

They faced forward again.

At the center of the hall, the ceremony continued.

Ilyan flexed his fingers.

His palms were damp.

He had spent years imagining this moment. Everyone did. Awakening was the line between ordinary life and possibility. A good class could lift a person from poverty, earn guild sponsorship, secure noble protection, or open the road to knighthood.

A bad class meant a quiet life.

A useless class meant everyone would know.

Ilyan did not need to become a hero. He had never been greedy enough for that. He only needed a class useful enough to keep his scholarship, earn academy housing, and repay Maros for every winter the old man had skipped meals while pretending he was not hungry.

A crafting class would be fine.

A support class would be fine.

Even a minor tactical class would be more than enough.

“Ilyan Vale.”

His name sounded thinner than the others.

No family title. No crest. No murmurs of expectation.

Just two words dropped into a hall full of people waiting to forget him.

Ilyan walked forward.

The distance from the back row to the ledger felt much longer than it had looked. He passed noble students who did not bother hiding their curiosity. A few smiled with polite cruelty, already preparing to laugh if the orphan produced something embarrassing.

The priest beside the ledger looked down at his list.

“Place your hand upon the Awakening Ledger,” he said. “Do not resist the mana flow. The system will read your soul record and assign the class most aligned with your nature.”

Your nature.

Ilyan placed his hand on the page.

The ledger was cold.

For one second, nothing happened.

Then the world went silent.

Not quiet.

Silent.

The whispers vanished. The rustle of uniforms disappeared. Even his heartbeat seemed to stop.

A black window opened in front of his eyes.

Not blue.

Not gold.

Black.

Thin silver text appeared inside it.

[Unregistered user detected.]

Ilyan’s breath caught.

The page beneath his hand trembled.

More text appeared.

[Searching active class registry…]
[Combat compatibility: Low.]
[Direct offensive aptitude: Low.]
[Command compatibility: Moderate.]
[Record perception compatibility: High.]
[System interference compatibility: High.]

Ilyan tried to remove his hand.

He could not move.

[Warning: dormant authority signature detected.]

Dormant what?

The ledger’s pages began turning faster. The priest stepped back, startled. Around the hall, people started whispering again, but their voices sounded distant, as if Ilyan were underwater.

[Checking vacancy…]

[Administrator role vacant.]

[Vacancy duration: 412 years, 7 months, 19 days.]

The black window flickered.

For the first time, the ledger did not shine.

It dimmed.

The golden chains around its cover turned silver, then black, then silver again.

The priest’s face lost color.

“What is this?” someone whispered.

The ledger stopped turning.

Letters rose above it.

Small letters.

Not blazing like Lucien’s. Not accompanied by a pillar of light. Not decorated with divine symbols or elemental sparks.

Just plain white text.

[Class Awakened: Administrator]

Silence held for three breaths.

Then someone laughed.

It started near the noble rows. A short, sharp sound of disbelief. Then another student joined. Then another.

“Administrator?”

“What does that even do?”

“Is that a clerk class?”

“No attack attribute?”

“Maybe he can organize our bags.”

The laughter spread.

The priest cleared his throat, visibly confused. He leaned closer to the ledger, as if expecting the result to correct itself.

It did not.

Ilyan stared at the word floating above him.

Administrator.

No sword appeared at his waist. No mana flame rose from his hand. No divine blessing warmed his body. He felt no stronger, no faster, no braver.

A small blue panel appeared where everyone could see it.

[Name: Ilyan Vale]
[Class: Administrator]
[Combat Skills: None]
[Initial Skill: View Record]

The laughter grew louder.

“View Record?”

“He awakened as a librarian!”

“Careful. He might defeat us with paperwork.”

Ilyan’s face burned.

At the instructor platform, several teachers exchanged disappointed looks. One of the guild observers crossed something off a list. A noblewoman yawned.

Lucien Vael looked at Ilyan for half a second.

This time, he smiled.

That was worse.

The priest gave Ilyan a stiff nod. “You may return to your place.”

Ilyan lowered his hand.

His legs felt hollow, but he forced himself to walk normally. Every step back to the scholarship row felt like walking through thrown stones.

Mira did not laugh.

That helped more than he wanted to admit.

When he returned to his place, she leaned slightly toward him and whispered, “Maybe it has hidden uses.”

Ilyan looked down at his hands.

“Maybe.”

He wanted to believe that.

He really did.

But the public panel had been clear.

No combat skills.

No attack attribute.

No visible rank.

A useless class.

The ceremony continued, and the academy moved on.

That was the first cruelty of the world, Ilyan thought. It did not even pause when it crushed you.

More students awakened. More applause filled the hall. More futures opened.

Ilyan barely heard them.

He kept staring at the empty space in front of him where his status screen had appeared. He wished it would return. He wished it would explain itself. He wished there had been some mistake.

Then, as if responding to the thought, another window opened.

Only Ilyan seemed to see this one.

It was black.

The silver text was smaller than before.

[Administrator Interface initializing…]

Ilyan stopped breathing.

The laughter around him blurred.

[Public profile generated.]
[Restricted profile concealed.]
[Authority Level: Guest.]
[Primary Function: Observation.]
[Secondary Function: Audit.]
[System Console: Locked.]
[Forbidden Commands: Locked.]
[Root Access: Locked.]

Ilyan’s eyes widened.

Root access?

The window changed.

[Current User Status]

Name: Ilyan Vale
Class: Administrator
Visible Classification: Non-Combat Utility
True Classification: World-System Governance
Authority Level: Guest
Authority Completion: 0.003%
Health: 41/41
Mana: 32/32
Stamina: 27/27
Strength: 4
Agility: 5
Endurance: 4
Intelligence: 14
Focus: 18
Authority: 1

At the bottom of the panel, one line blinked in red.

[Warning: Administrator role has been vacant for 412 years.]

Another line appeared beneath it.

[Warning: multiple world structures currently operating without supervision.]

Then another.

[Warning: corruption detected in local academy records.]

Ilyan slowly raised his head.

The hall looked different.

Not physically. The marble was still marble. The nobles were still nobles. The Awakening Ledger still floated beneath painted stars.

But now, thin threads of light connected everything.

Students had faint panels flickering above their shoulders. Instructors carried layered records like stacked pages. The ledger itself was wrapped in thousands of symbols, some bright, some faded, some cracked.

And near the academy ranking board on the far wall, Ilyan saw something that made his stomach tighten.

A red mark.

[Unauthorized Edit Detected]

He stared at it.

The mark pulsed like an open wound.

Then a final message appeared.

[Initial administrator task available.]

Task: Audit corrupted student ranking records.
Difficulty: Unknown.
Reward: Clerk Authority Progression.
Failure Penalty: Continued structural corruption.
Accept?

Ilyan stood among the laughter, the mockery, the glittering nobles, and the disappointed instructors.

He had no sword.

No spell.

No attack skill.

But for the first time since his name had been called, his shame cooled into something sharper.

The world had rules.

Someone had edited them.

And somehow, impossibly, the useless class had noticed.

Ilyan looked at the blinking prompt.

Then he selected:

[Accept.]