I lay sprawled on my bed, completely and utterly wrecked.
I really should have been asleep already.
But my brain? Yeah, it had other plans.
I stared at the ceiling, letting the sheer insanity of today wash over me.
I had walked into a dungeon, fought for my life, solved puzzles, stabbed monsters, dodged death multiple times, got offered an existential exit deal by my own shadow, beat up a literal ghost king, and walked out five levels stronger.
And somehow, Mom’s reaction had still been the scariest part.
The second she saw me, all breath left her body. For a terrifying moment, I thought she was going to collapse—or possibly kill me for making her worry that much. But then she just grabbed me and clung to me like I was going to vanish again.
She whispered prayers of thanks into my shoulder, squeezed me so tight I thought she might actually crack a rib, and for the first time since waking up as a Chosen… I felt the significance of what I had just done.
I had survived.
I had walked in where so many hadn’t come back.
And I was still here.
Which, yeah, was a huge relief. But also?
The dungeon had surprised me.
Not just with the monsters, or the Empty King, or the ridiculous amount of cryptic system nonsense it threw at me.
But with how much I had liked it.
Don’t get me wrong — almost getting killed by a giant spider was not on my bucket list. And the whole dodging a sword that could have cleaved me in half thing? Zero out of ten, would not recommend.
But the moments where I moved fast enough, where I figured out the next step before disaster struck, where I was just a step ahead of death instead of behind it?
That had been… exhilarating.
There was something about the way the fight flowed, the way the world slowed just enough for me to weave through it, the rush of landing a perfect strike in the exact right place.
I had never felt so sharp, so aware, so alive.
Which was deeply concerning.
Because normal people do not finish life-or-death dungeon trials and think, Hey, that was kind of fun, let’s do it again sometime!
I groaned, rubbing my face. “Great. I survived one dungeon and now I might be some kind of adrenaline junkie. Fantastic.”
My eyes slipped shut.
I wasn’t just grateful to be alive.
I was excited for what came next.
And that?
That might be the most terrifying thing of all.
I just lay there, half-buried in my blankets, eyes still fixed on the ceiling, my mind nowhere near sleep.
Because now that the adrenaline had faded, now that my limbs weren’t actively trying to mutiny, my brain decided it was a great time to start doing math.
Lucky me.
I thought back to the archives, to everything I had read. The system chose 20% of the population. One in five people woke up on their sixteenth birthday with a notification in their vision and a countdown clock ticking down to their trial.
But how many actually survived it?
The books never gave a solid number on that.
And that was because most of them didn’t.
The Proving Grounds Trial wasn’t just a test—it was a culling. A brutal, one-shot chance at proving whether or not you deserved to stand among the Chosen.
And if you failed?
That was it.
Game over.
So that 20% wasn’t really accurate? The number of those who actually walked out of their judgment dungeon alive?
That number was much, much smaller.
How many even came back from their Trial? 20%? 30%?
Because plenty of Chosen never came back.
Once you cleared your trial, the system didn’t care what you did next. No forced participation, no looming threats. You could walk away and live a normal life if you wanted. Plenty did.
They worked normal jobs, hid their status, refused to risk their lives just because the system had rolled the dice and picked them.
And honestly? I didn’t blame them.
Because for all the exhilaration, the rush, the sheer thrill of that dungeon fight…
I had no immediate plans to step into another one.
I’d done my part. I survived.
And as far as I was concerned? That was enough.
I let out a slow breath, letting the tension drain from my limbs.
I was safe now.
The system wasn’t going to drag me into another death trap.
I had won.
I sighed, rubbing my face before rolling onto my side. Sleep wasn’t happening anytime soon. My body was wrecked, but my mind was still running laps around itself, too wired to settle.
Maybe food would help.
I reached into my void bag, fingers searching for one of the apples I grabbed from the feast earlier. Something simple, something to settle my stomach before I tried sleeping again.
My fingers closed around something round and smooth.
I pulled it out, expecting the firm give of fruit.
But the second I looked at it, my stomach twisted.
It wasn’t an apple.
It was the glass orb.
I frowned, holding it up in the dim light of the setting sun filtering through my window. Just like before, it was cool to the touch, humming faintly with an energy I didn’t understand. The glow inside pulsed gently, shifting like a storm trapped under the surface, again in time with my heartbeat.
And then I noticed the display.
The text floating above it had changed.
????? - Level 6
I froze.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
Level… six? That wasn’t right.
It was level one when I found it. I was sure of it. What the hell had happened?
A chill crept down my spine as my thoughts raced backward, replaying every moment since I left the dungeon. And then it hit me.
The XP notification.
The one I got when I stepped out of the Proving Grounds.
I had leveled up to six. And so had the orb.
My grip tightened around it.
This wasn’t normal. Items weren’t supposed to have levels. Chosen had levels. Weapons, armor, enchanted objects? They had ranks.
Every book I had ever read, every archive I had studied—nothing had ever mentioned something like this.
I swallowed, watching the glow pulse softly inside the orb.
What did this mean?
And more importantly…
What the hell had I just brought back with me?
I sat up, the exhaustion of the day momentarily forgotten. The glass orb rested in my palm, its swirling light pulsing softly, as if it was waiting for me to figure something out.
Level six. Just like me.
That wasn’t normal. That wasn’t supposed to be possible. I needed answers.
I flicked open my status menu, scanning through my stats, my health, my abilities—nothing about the orb. No mention of any strange, unknown items linked to me. No hidden entries, no sudden new notifications explaining why I had just pulled an object that shouldn’t exist out of my bag.
Next, I opened my inventory.
A list of everything I carried popped up, neat and organized. Food, gear, tools—and there it was.
????? - Level 6
[An unknown artifact. Its purpose is unclear.]
I frowned.
“That’s real helpful,” I muttered under my breath.
The system always provided details on items. If something was magical, if it had abilities, if it was worth selling or keeping—there was always something.
But this?
Just a question mark where its name should be, like the system itself didn’t even know what it was.
That thought sent a small, uneasy ripple through me.
I opened my talents screen, flipping through the branching pathways of abilities, looking for something—anything—that might be different.
Then I saw it.
A sub-menu I hadn’t noticed before.
A talent tree that didn’t belong.
It sat just beneath the Shadowborn talents, separate from the rest.
?????
Same as the orb.
I hesitated, then moved over to it. The moment I did, new talents appeared.
And immediately, I knew something was wrong.
There were far fewer options than in my Shadowborn tree—only a handful of choices, most of them still locked. But that wasn’t what unsettled me.
These talents didn’t feel like right.
They weren’t like my stealth abilities, my Shadowborn techniques.
They were… different.
Out of place.
As if the system hadn’t designed them to be here at all.
My fingers hovered over the menu, my pulse slow, steady, unsure.
Whatever this was…
It wasn’t just some weird, unranked loot drop.
It was something more.
And the system wasn’t telling me why.
I studied the ????? talent tree.
Unlike my Shadowborn talents, which branched out in different directions, offering multiple paths to specialize in, this one was linear. A straight, rigid progression. No choices. No deviations. Just a single path forward, one talent after the other.
That alone was strange.
But then I noticed something else.
Beneath the menu, a simple, unassuming line of text.
????? - 5 Talent Points Remaining
I frowned.
Wait.
That was the exact number of talent points I had when I left the dungeon.
Did this tree pull from the same pool as my regular talents? It would make sense, right? I only had one pool of talent points. If I spent one, the total should drop.
Only one way to check.
I moved back over to my Shadowborn talents and selected one from the base of the tree.
Improved Daggers
Increased damage from attacks made with daggers.
Increased critical hit chance from attacks made with daggers.
Solid pick. Daggers were the only weapons I had, and it wasn’t like I had a sudden urge to start swinging a greatsword around.
I confirmed the selection, expecting some kind of rush of power or maybe a system acknowledgment.
Nothing.
I didn’t feel any different. No tingling sensation, no burst of hidden knowledge unlocking within me.
I flicked my eyes back to my talent point pool—sure enough, it had dropped from 5 to 4.
That answered that. I had one shared pool.
Then I paused.
Because when I scrolled back over to the ????? talents, something was off.
It still said 5 Talent Points Remaining.
I blinked. That wasn’t right.
I had just spent one. My pool should be 4 across the board.
But no.
My Shadowborn points had dropped. My ????? points had stayed the same.
I sat up a little straighter, staring at the menu.
Two separate pools.
My mind raced, turning over the implications. That meant—
I had extra talent points. Talent points that, as far as I knew, I shouldn’t have.
I didn’t know what this meant. I didn’t know what this tree was. But I did know one thing.
The system had given me something it wasn’t giving anyone else.
The talents in this mystery tree were hidden until unlocked, but since there was only one option per tier, there wasn’t much strategy involved. One path forward. No choices.
Which, yeah, was a little unsettling. But at this point, why start questioning things?
I hovered over the first talent and unlocked it.
Forager
You may find edible fruits, vegetables, and fungi out in the wild more easily than most. The location of such resources will be displayed on your map.
I blinked.
Huh. That’s actually really handy.
Being able to spot free food wherever I went? Considering my usual diet consisted of whatever hadn’t gone stale yet, this was basically a life upgrade.
I moved to the next one and unlocked it.
Scavenger
When looting dungeons, you may find additional gold coins more regularly.
I stared at the screen for a moment.
Hold on.
“You mean I can get rich quick thanks to this thing?”
That… that would be huge.
I could help Mom with the bills. Get Aria and Leon actual new clothes instead of hand-me-downs. Maybe even afford real, fresh food instead of rationing everything to last.
I swallowed hard, already feeling way too attached to this weird, nameless orb.
Alright. Next one.
Charmed, I’m Sure.
Initial encounters usually have a lower probability of resulting in hostility.
I frowned.
“Wait. Why would people be hostile upon intial meeting? Surely you get to know someone before deciding that kind of thing?”
Then I thought about every arrogant Chosen I’d ever met.
“…Okay, maybe this one’s more useful than I thought.”
I clicked the next one.
Cartographer
Your map will automatically update with points of interest and useful locations as you discover them. No longer will you need to create your own pins.
Now that was handy.
“Finally, a way to never get lost again,” I muttered, making a mental note to abuse this talent at every opportunity.
I moved to the fifth talent and spent my last point.
And immediately, my mind short-circuited.
Fast Travel.
You may designate a personal Anchorpoint. Once every 12 hours, you may fast travel instantly to that location. Anchorpoints must be set in safe territory.
I froze.
Instant. Travel.
Teleportation?
A 12-hour cooldown.
That was… insane.
Like, I wasn’t planning on becoming a full-time dungeon diver, but this? This changed things.
Teleporting meant I could get home instantly. I could travel miles in a blink. No long, grueling treks, no wasted time.
This was next-level power.
My mind raced, running through the endless possibilities. And a small part of me wondered…
What else did this orb have in store for me? Because whatever this was—it wasn’t normal.
And I wasn’t sure I wanted to walk away from it just yet.
I sat there in the dark; the orb glowing faintly in my palm, casting soft, shifting shadows across my room.
Five talents. Five very not-normal talents. And a mystery tree that wasn’t supposed to exist.
I wasn’t just a Shadowborn anymore.
I was something else entirely.
Something the system either didn’t understand… or didn’t want me to understand.
I stared down at the orb, its pulse still matching my heartbeat.
“Alright,” I whispered. “What are you?”
No answer. Just that quiet hum. That strange sense that it knew me now. Like a thread had been tied between us, one I couldn’t see but definitely felt.
I didn’t know what came next.
I didn’t know why I had been given this.
But for the first time in my life, I had options.
And if the system wasn’t going to tell me what this thing really was…
Then I’d just have to find out myself.