Free Web NovelChapter 2: The Crimson Mana Pillar
[Do you wish to advance your Talent by participating in the Culling Game or enter Heaven’s Domain?]
The system prompt hovered relentlessly in Andrew’s vision.
"F-Rank talent? After everything I’ve done?"
Andrew gritted his teeth in a mixture of pain, anger, and bitter frustration.
F-Rank. The lowest rank possible.
The majority of beings in this world awaken an E-rank to D-Grade Talent.
That was the bare minimum that society deemed acceptable. With an D-Grade, you could at least secure a decent job, join a guild, and carve out a somewhat respectable life for yourself.
It was nothing glamorous, but it was enough to survive.
But F-Rank?
F-Rank was a death sentence in slow motion.
In fact, during the past awakening ceremonies at the academy, only ten people out of thousands had ever possessed an F-Grade Talent.
And out of the thousands of students standing in this very stadium today, Andrew was actually so unlucky that he had awakened an F-Rank talent?
He had studied relentlessly, trained his body to its absolute limits using various techniques despite having no access to mana.
Yet, the universe had slapped him across the face with the lowest possible grade in existence.
His dark eyes stared at the translucent system panel.
[Zoomable Eyes]
In a world where S-Rank talents could manipulate gravity, control time, or summon apocalyptic flames, his grand gift from the heavens was the ability to squint really hard.
A hollow laugh escaped Andrew’s throat. He was almost having a mental breakdown right now.
It wasn’t even a combat class. Even the most basic construction jobs in Maryland City required a minimum of an E-Rank talent certification.
With an F-Rank, he would be lucky to get a job sweeping floors at a mana refinery.
And that was assuming the orphanage didn’t kick him out first.
Haven Orphanage was funded by the city government, and its resources were already stretched thin. They had no use for a sixteen-year-old with an F-Rank talent who would never amount to anything.
He would be kicked out and Monica will be all alone at the orphanage.
His eyes read the last text again and he muttered.
’The Culling Game.’
It was a terrifying, brutal, and unforgiving path. The mortality rate was eighty percent. Billions of graves accumulated over four hundred years but it was still a chance.
And right now, it was the only chance he had.
At that moment, Monica had finally staggered back to her feet. The golden aura still surrounded her pulsed as the system finalized her awakening, calibrating her body to the immense influx of mana that had been forcibly injected into her being.
She turned around toward Andrew and smiled.
The moment their eyes met, Andrew felt his breath hitch.
In the depths of Monica’s golden pupils, a clear, luminous alphabet could be seen.
’B’
A B-Rank Talent.
Andrew’s lips curved into a genuine, warm smile. The bitterness that had been consuming him moments ago momentarily faded as he looked at her.
A B-Rank talent was extraordinary. It was the classification that placed a player in the top 5 percent of the entire world’s awakened population. With a B-Rank, Monica would have access to the finest academies, the most elite guilds, and the highest-paying expeditions. She would never have to worry about survival.
Her future was incredibly bright.
"I’m happy for you," Andrew whispered, his smile completely sincere. "You deserve this, Monica."
Monica smiled back and mouthed. "Thanks Andrew."
But then her smile started to falter as she read the expression on his face.
She could read him better than anyone in this world. They had grown up together in the same orphanage, sharing the same meals, the same thin blankets during freezing winters, and the same dreams of a better life.
She knew every inch of his expression.
And right now, the smile on Andrew’s face was the one he always wore when he was about to do something incredibly stupid.
Her golden eyes drifted down to his pupils.
And right in his pupils was the letter ’F’.
Monica’s countenance changed drastically as her face turned pale.
Andrew had awakened an F-Rank talent.
Everything around her seemed to freeze, as it all faded into background noise.
She immediately knew what he was about to do.
He was going to enter the Culling Game. frёewebnoѵēl.com
"No," Monica shook her head violently, her blonde hair whipping side to side. "No, no, no—"
She pointed at him, her finger trembling as she screamed something in fury but sound couldn’t escape the mana barrier around her.
"Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare do this to me." ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom
Her eyes watered as she furiously shouted.
Andrew watched her, and he smiled gently to her as he whispered.
"Trust Me."
Monica’s entire body jolted as though she had been struck by lightning.
She hammered her fists against the golden barrier. "Andrew! DON’T!"
The system’s protective boundary held firm, designed to shield awakening players from external interference during their calibration phase.
Andrew closed his eyes for a single and inhaled as he face hardened.
"I choose to enter the Culling Game."
Thw world seen to pause as thunder and lightning strove above the clouds.
The warm golden energy surrounding Andrew flickered violently and then suddenly turned crimson!
The crimson aura erupted from Andrew’s body as smell of death and slaughter filled his surroundings with runes surprising the crimson barrier.
It was the color of the Culling Game.
The transformation was impossible to miss.
Across the entirety of Maryland Academy’s stadium, every single pair of eyes snapped toward the singular pillar of crimson light.
Gasps rippled through the spectator stands.
"Someone actually dared to participate in the Culling Game?" a woman whispered, her hand flying to her mouth in disbelief.
"Is that, is that crimson light?" another spectator stammered, squinting down at the field. "That’s the Culling Game marker, isn’t it?"
"It’s been twenty years since anyone from Maryland Academy dared to enter the Culling Game," an elderly man muttered, leaning forward in his seat with interest.
The reaction from the wealthy families’ VIP section was far more pronounced.
In the elevated, luxury seating area reserved for the city’s most influential clans, the atmosphere shifted. Elders who had been idly sipping expensive mana-infused beverages suddenly set their glasses down.
Lord Aldric Voss, the patriarch of the Voss family and one of the five ruling heads of Maryland City, slowly leaned back to his seat as his eyes narrowed.
"How interesting," he murmured, stroking his silver beard. "An F-Rank, if the crimson is any indication. A desperate little rat with nowhere else to go."
"Father, should we observe?" a younger man beside him asked cautiously.
Lord Voss’s lips curled into a thin, predatory smile. "Observe? My dear boy, the Culling Game is the single greatest entertainment this mundane world has to offer. A fight to the death, broadcast directly to the divine realms? Gods and demigods themselves watch these matches."
He leaned back in his chair, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "I would not miss this for the world."
In the adjacent VIP booth, Lady Seraphina of the Koshka clan tilted her head elegantly, her pointed elven ears twitching with curiosity. "Twenty years," she echoed softly. "The last one from this academy who entered the Culling Game... what was his name again?"
"Marcus Thorne," her attendant answered promptly. "He possessed an E-Rank talent. Fought three consecutive matches. Won the first two and died in the third against a C-Rank from the Northern Federation."
"Ah, yes." Lady Seraphina’s painted lips curved into a faint, humorless smile. "How delightfully tragic. I do hope this one lasts longer than two minutes."
Down on the field, the elite Supernals Class had also taken notice.
Among them, a tall, silver-haired young man with piercing violet eyes turned his head lazily toward the crimson pillar. His expression was one of disdain, as though he had just noticed a cockroach scurrying across a fine dining table.
"An F-Rank entering the Culling Game?" Gerald Solstice spoke, his voice smooth and dismissive. "Predictable."
"Should we watch, Gerald?" a girl beside him asked, twirling a strand of her auburn hair.
"Why bother?" Gerald shrugged elegantly. "The outcome is already decided. An F-Rank has never survived the Culling Game. Not once in four hundred years of recorded history. He will die, and the world will move on as though he never existed."
He paused, then added with a cold, mocking smirk, "Though I suppose it will be mildly entertaining to see how long an orphan lasts. They are quite durable."
A few of the Supernals chuckled softly at his words.
Back on the field, Monica was still hammering her fists against the golden barrier, tears streaming down her face.
Andrew stood perfectly still within the crimson pillar, he couldn’t hear nothing.
[System: Choice confirmed.]
[Player Andrew has elected to participate in the Culling Game.]
[Initializing Culling Game Protocol...]
[Searching for compatible opponent...]
[F-Rank Talent holder detected]
[Opponent matched.]
[Arena Generation: Commencing.]
[Transfer to Culling Game Arena in 10... 9... 8...]
Andrew opened his eyes and he felt weightless as his feet started floating. He wasn’t the only one, the thousands of students in the field started floating as the teleportation activated.
Monica also floated before him.
"I’m sorry."
[3... 2... 1...]
[Transfer complete]
[Welcome to the Culling Game Arena, Player Andrew]
