The words blazed across the screen, burning into him like the opening line of a tale. And in his bones, in his blood, he felt it — the first page of his story had turned. Not only that, but he felt as if the words rang. The chime was pure and resonant, reverberated through his mind in a musical note. And he could have sworn the Nest paused, if only for a heartbeat, as though even this cruel place recognized the choice.

Looking down on himself, light poured from him. Not sunlight or fire but something softer, golden, feeling like the warmth of a hearth in the dark. It wrapped around him, seeping into his skin, his bones, his blood, and even his soul.

Artorius gasped. His body felt lighter, stronger, every nerve singing as though a hidden current had been unbound. His wounds still bled, his flesh still ached, but the pain no longer bent him. Instead it sharpened him, set against something greater inside.

More than that, he could feel something greater, the System stitching threads of possibility into him. Not just numbers, not just strength, but a story. For an instant, he swore he saw it: faint script glowing in the air, curling like smoke. Words not his own.

The boy draws the sword from the stone… beginning his legend!

The line faded, but he felt it burn across his heart like an oath. 

Image: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/49258189669675822/

Once he came down from whatever transformation he experienced, he looked more closely at his character sheet to see what he was working with exactly.

Character Sheet 

Name: Artorius Pendrath

Titles: None

Archetype: Leader[Awakened]  – lvl 0

Race: Pure-Blood Dragonmen(Homo Draconis)[G-hatchling] – lvl 1

Class: Storybook Squire(House Pendragon)[Tier 0] – lvl 0

Health: 25/90 | Stamina: 40/85 | Mana: 90/90

Stats

Strength - 8→9

Dexterity - 7→8

Constitution - 8→9

Intellect - 9

Willpower - 10

Perception - 7→8

Charisma - 10→11

Luck - 20

Trait: Commander

Skills: Inspect(Common), Standard Tongues(Common), Heroic Blow(Rare)

Mutation: Draconic Adaptability(Rare)

Laws: None

Technique: None

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His name was his name, for the title there was nothing but it did have a description for what it was supposed to hold. Titles: Earned through various great deeds, victories, accomplishments, and recognitions. 

For archetype he already knew what that was, but this new rank of Awakened drew his attention. Awakened: You have established a connection to your higher purpose in life, your calling. 

True-Blood Dragonmen: A rare race. Who are a noble specimen with the blood of dragons coursing through your vein, the most purest and raw form with even the great soul of one. 

Homo Draconis: An evolutionary offshoot group of the humans who are closely tied to dragons and share traits with them.

G-Rank: Lowest tier lifeform

Hatchling: Baby Dragons

House Pendragon: Your lineage is tied to the royal house of Camelot

Tier 0: the weakest rank basically apprentices and disciples

Health = life force

Stamina = physical endurance

Mana = magical essence

Stats

Strength – Physical power; lifting, damage output, force. 

Dexterity – Reflexes, balance, speed. 

Constitution – Toughness, endurance, ability to withstand damage. 

Intellect – Mental capacity, strategical thinking, problem-solving. 

Willpower – Fortitude, intent, resistance to fear, pain, and control. 

Perception – Awareness of detail, threats, and hidden truths. 

Charisma – Natural presence and authority. 

Luck – Fortune, probability, and fate

Trait: They represent your personal characteristics

Commander: Leader of men. Your words carry weight and power; orders and rallying cries inspire, and can compel obedience.

Skills: They are the extraordinary abilities that let you do the impossible and miraculous.

Inspect (Common): System ability that lets you see levels, names, brief descriptions of beings and items.

Standard Tongues (Common): Universal System language skill that lets you communicate with other System races.

Heroic Blow (Rare): The strike of legend. A blow fueled by narrative weight, desperation, and belief. Able to bypass defenses, barriers, resistances, even illusions or fate.

Mutation: Mutable body parts

Draconic Adaptation (Rare): What doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger! The dragon’s hidden survival gift — your body learns and adapts to whatever damages it. 

Laws: The fundamental reality-defining building blocks of the cosmos. They are the hidden great truths to be covered and understood.

Technique: Various methods, disciplines, and mastery of honing and amplifying powers or abilities unlocking new avenues of strengths. 

Reading the flood of information scrawled across his vision, Artorius found himself with more questions than answers. The System gave a vast catalog of interesting tidbits of information, but in this moment, what mattered was survival. 

He stripped the text down to the essentials, clinging to the tools that might keep him alive in this place. That being his skills which were what could give him the edge he needed. They would be his lifeline he needed to hold on to tight. 

He wasn’t too interested in the system skill, what could be his salvation was his class, racial, and archetype skills. Draconic adaptation skill seemed like a passive skill which promised resilience but it would demand suffering to sharpen it. A great boon, yes, but one that had to be forged in pain.

The heroic blow seemed to be the only offensive skill he had, but it seemed to come with some caveats. It looked like it could be powerful, but its conditions raised troubling questions. And then there was the Command skill which looked useful in ordering and rallying people but it held some disturbing undertones that unsettled him a bit. 

Still, misgivings meant little here. Whatever these skills truly were, they were all he had and he would have to make do with them. Just then he ran into the resident of this cave. The silence was fractured with a low rumble, like distant thunder rolling through bone.

Then it stepped into the firelight, a beast of sinew and scaled brass, lion’s mane curling around a reptilian skull, draconic wings folded close. Its eyes smoldered like twin embers.

[Brass Dragonne — LVL 3]

Image: https://www.worldanvil.com/i/1659352

The name of the creature seared itself across his vision. The Dragonne’s roar shook the cave, a sound that rattled stone loose from the ceiling. Instinct screamed at him to run, but instead he stood his ground. The thing lunged, faster than its bulk should allow. He dove aside, but not fast enough due to all the injuries slowing him down, the claws raked across his ribs, tearing cloth, tearing flesh. Hot blood spattered the cave floor. Pain set his nerves aflame.

He staggered, barely keeping footing. He was so tired, all his wounds were weighing on him. He felt as if he had no strength left in his body as it was only running on fumes. But there was something new thrumming at his throat a Command.

“STOP!” The word came out more prayer than order, but his skill answered. For an instant, reality itself seemed to stop, the Dragonne froze mid-stride, muscles locked, eyes dimmed as if the command had stolen its will. 

For one very long instant. Then it snapped free with a bellow that shook dust from the ceiling with fury incarnate. It lunged again, jaws closing around empty air where his throat had been a second before. Claws struck his leg this time agony bloomed as the world spun and stone bit into his side.

He could feel himself unraveling. Each breath cost more than the last. His lifeblood pooled at his feet. There was death approaching, brass-fanged and merciless. And then — the whisper of his other skill called out to him... Heroic Blow!

His arm lifted though it felt heavier than mountains, his makeshift spear trembling in bloodied fingers. Light coursed along the edge, not flame, not mana, but story — inevitability forged into strike. Power flooded his arm, golden light tracing the path of his strike. He brought the blade down in an arc that was more than muscle; it was belief, story, inevitability. Seeing the power behind the blow, the Dragonne braced itself.

Its scales glowed molten yellow, plates hardening into something closer to forged metal than flesh. The blow struck home with a ringing note like hammer against anvil. Sparks screamed in the dark. His bones threatened to snap, his legs buckled. For a moment it seemed the strike would fail, that his strength was nothing before its armored body.

Then the world broke. The Heroic Blow cut through the brass plating as though it were parchment, ripping through defenses like it wasn’t there. The light carried through scale, bone, and muscle. The Dragonne staggered, jaws opening in a last defiant roar that crumbled into a gurgle. With a crash that shook the cavern floor, the drake-lion fell.

Silence returned, but broken occasionally by heavy, gasping breathing. Artorius stood swaying, body torn open, drenched in his own blood. The System’s voice echoed in the silence: You have slain [Brass Dragonne – Level 3] 

Congratulations! You have leveled up.

Archetype: [Leader] has reached level 1 – Stat points allocated, +1 Int, +1 Will, +1 Char!

From beyond, deeper in the Nest, an answering roar rose — vast, low, and patient. Something had heard their clash and sensed something and it was on the hunt for him.

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Author Note: One ability I enjoy making was the Draconic Adaption based on Mahoraga from JJK. 

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Chapter 4 Recap!

Gained new Tier 0 Class: Storybook Squire

Heroic Blow Skill gained! 

Leveled up Leader Archetype to Lvl. 1!

+1 Int, +1 Will, +1 Char!

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