Dev looked at the screen infront of him looking over the his Status that had once been so familiar to him looking very different to how it had been when he first awakened
Name: Devesh Menon
Race: Enhanced Human
Level: 1
Class: [Unassigned]
Titles: [**** Chosen]
Stats:
Strength: 19
Constitution: 18
Agility: 20
Mana: 2 (+6)
[Stat Points Available: 0]
Innate Abilities:
[Yaksha’s Spark] (Uncommon)
[Shard of ****] (Unique)
Skills:
[Mana Manipulation] – Lv 3
[Instinct] – Lv 1
[Reinforce] – Lv 1
His stats—with the exception of his Mana, the +6 probably being due to his cultivation bringing his total Mana to 8—were four times higher than his initial stats in the past. He could thank Xy’Rosh for that. He also had an extra skill, [Instinct]. It wasn’t part of his starting skills, and he had never had it before—even before he died.
He was even more surprised by the innate ability section. He recognized [Yaksha’s Spark]; that was literally the lynchpin of his power in his past life. But the second one was something he never had the fact he even had a second one was unheard of. The Unique tag was weird—and even weirder, it was partially censored. That was the first time he’d ever seen something censored by the System before. He assumed the title he gained was related to that too.
He mentally tapped on the ability to get a description of its capabilities:
[Shard of ****] (Unique)
A fragment of an ancient power from an era long forgotten. This shard has fused with your soul, granting access to holy power and latent traits associated with nature and restoration.
“HOLY POWER!?!” Dev exclaimed.
Rowan looked at him funny, still emitting mana from his suit. “Man, why are you screaming like a nerd all of a sudden?”
“It’s... it’s nothing. I was just startled, is all. You can stop emitting now—it worked.”
“Oh, good,” Rowan replied, starting to retract his exoframe.
Dev was in shock. Holy power was literally humanity’s best weapon against demons. It was poison to them. It was also a power that could only be used via innate abilities that were Epic-rated or higher from the Progeny series. They were very, very, very rare—basically a one-in-a-hundred-thousand chance of having an Epic-rated ability at all. And for it to be one that granted holy power? Even rarer.
The handful of holy power users who did exist were in Europe—specifically Italy—where the Holy Knights guild operated, trained, and recruited hunters with that ability.
This... this is good, Dev thought.
Right now, holy power users were known for their healing abilities and buffs, so no one really thought they were extraordinary—since there were hunters who could do the same with mana. But he could use this as an in with the Holy Knights. And maybe—just maybe—prevent their civil war.
We keep them from lowering the number of holy power users.
Dev took a deep breath and looked through his skills and the rest of his innate abilities to make sure nothing had changed—and to see what the [Instinct] skill was about.
[Mana Manipulation] was pretty self-explanatory. It allowed one to control mana freely and was the basis for being able to gain new skills. All Hunters who didn’t start with this skill made sure to gain it later—it was standard for any Hunter.
[Reinforce] was the other skill he’d originally awakened with. It allowed him to not only strengthen his body but also to strengthen objects. It required mana to use, as all active skills did. Nothing was different in the description either. Exactly how he remembered it.
Dev then opened up the [Instinct] skill description:
[Instinct] – Lv 1
Grants an intuitive understanding of your surroundings—allowing you to read them like a book and react with near-foresight. This skill is a culmination of your experiences, sharpened into raw perception.
“A culmination of your experiences…” Dev read that line and froze. He knew what this skill represented. The years of battle that sharpened his focus. That made him on edge in a moment. That shaped him. The ability to feel the rhythm of an opponent—to predict it and strike.
It’s what had earned him one of his titles and his old callsign: [Nataraj].
But what he wanted to know was… how the System knew. How it could’ve known.
Does the System have something to do with my regression? Dev wondered.
During his musing, he was interrupted by a hand reaching for his shoulder.
“Yo, kid—snap out of it.”
Dev wasn’t startled, like one might expect from someone so deep in thought. Instead, he dodged Rowan’s hand without realizing it—his body moving on its own. Rowan stumbled forward into him with a grunt.
“Hey, what was that for?” Rowan exclaimed.
Dev looked at the man quizzically from the floor. “I think… that might have been one of my skills.”
He got up and did a few light hops, closing his eyes and looking inward—tensing his nerves and bones. When he opened them, sparks of bluish lightning began crackling between his fingers. He smiled.
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This was his other innate ability—the one he was most familiar with.
[Yaksha’s Spark]—an elemental-type ability from the Spark series.
He let it course through him, shocking his dense muscles. He missed this feeling.
Before the euphoria of his cherished abilities could distract him further, he helped Rowan up and checked one last thing:
His title.
[**** Chosen]
You were saved by ****, an old power. You have been bestowed a fragment of its being, and through its will, you have entered this covenant of your making. Hold steadfast, for you have been Chosen.
Effect: Gain [Shard of ****]
Effect: Your soul is protected from all negative effects
Effect: Holy power gains +70% purity
Effect: Acolytes and Children of **** will treat you with favor
Dev stared at the title hovering in his vision, the flickering redacted words lingering like an unanswered question.
He exhaled slowly.
Just thinking about the implications is frying my brain, he admitted to himself. According to this title... I might’ve been brought back by something worse than Beelzebub.
That thought hit hard. Beelzebub—a Prince of Hell, right below the Demon King himself. And yet, whatever power had plucked him from death and thrown him back into this world, it was strong enough to warp the System, cloak its own name, and leave behind a title branded with divine-like weight.
Had he traded one devil for another?
No, Dev cut himself off, letting the swirl of worry pass through him. No despair.
He closed his eyes, grounding himself.
It doesn’t matter what brought me back—or what it wants.
His hands curled into fists.
My goal doesn’t change. Focus on what you have. What you need.
Not what you don’t.
The title faded from his view, but its presence lingered in the back of his mind—silent, waiting.
And Dev? He was still moving forward.
“So,” Rowan chimed in, “is it my turn now?”
Dev turned toward him. “Yeah. I want to wrap this up too—it’s almost dark, and I’d like to get home.”
He gestured for Rowan to sit, mirroring the lotus position he had used earlier. Once Rowan settled in, Dev took a seat behind him and placed a hand between his shoulder blades.
“Alright,” Dev said, voice steady. “Have Xy’Rosh start releasing mana directly into your body.”
As the mana began to flow, Dev closed his eyes, focusing. He thought back to Baek’s teachings—how to guide the current gently but precisely, how to nudge and shape the flow without disrupting it. Slowly, he began to direct the mana downward, channeling it toward Rowan’s lower abdomen.
It was the same process he had followed minutes ago, but now he wasn’t doing it for himself. He was leading someone else into the threshold of awakening—just as he had once been led.
….
Babak finally got off work. The long hours he had to put in as a junior banker were exhausting, and today had been particularly brutal. Between back-to-back meetings, dealing with egos bigger than the market cap of half the companies they traded, and the soul-draining slog of corporate politics, he was completely drained. The thought of grabbing drinks after work with some of his sleazier coworkers didn’t help either—it felt more like a punishment than a chance to unwind.
He loosened his tie as he slid into his car, the fabric damp with sweat from the humid Manhattan evening. As he pulled into traffic, his mind drifted—not to happy hour, but to the trades he’d made earlier that day. The ones Dev told him about.
His boss had looked at him like he was absolutely insane when he first brought up ManaTech Solutions. A no-name European startup tied to some obscure mana-tech research sounded more like a scam than a serious investment opportunity. But when Babak explained the background—the patents, the projected mana tech boom, and the cryptic but eerily accurate data points Dev had handed him—something shifted in the old man’s expression. Not belief, but consideration.
In the end, his boss had agreed—reluctantly. He let Babak make the trade. On one condition: get the contact info for ManaTech’s leadership and pass it along to their VC branch. If the company was truly as lucrative as Babak claimed, they wanted to get in early. Hell, his boss even mentioned wanting to personally meet with the company’s owner if they ever visited the States. That had thrown Babak for a spin.
It wasn’t just trust. It was a test. Either his boss wanted to watch him crash and burn in spectacular fashion—or he was gambling on Babak’s gut. Either way, he needed Dev’s tip to pull through, or his job—and probably his future in the firm—was toast.
He glanced at his phone sitting in the cupholder and sighed. He’d tried calling Dev a dozen times today, and every single call went straight to voicemail.
Frustrating didn’t even begin to cover it. You’d think a cripple who was stuck at home all day would pick up his damn phone.
Babak drummed his fingers against the wheel, jaw tight. “Where the hell are you, man?”
Babak drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, jaw tight. “Where the hell are you, man?”
He finally pulled into his apartment’s parking lot. As he got out and made his way up the steps, digging through his pockets for his key fob, he noticed a man standing in front of his door, knocking with a distinctly annoyed expression.
The guy looked Hispanic, with sharp features and striking green eyes—almost feline, like a jaguar’s. He was shorter than Babak, maybe around 5'8".
“Yo,” Babak called out, brows furrowing. “What are you doing in front of my apartment, boss?”
The man turned, startled, then gave a small laugh. “Ah, that explains it. I was wondering why no one was answering.”
He straightened his jacket and asked, “Are you Devesh Menon?”
“No,” Babak said, stepping closer. “I’m his roommate. What do you want with Dev?”
The man reached into his coat and flashed a badge—Pantheon-issued, with the insignia of their Awakened Incident Investigation Division.
“Sorry for not introducing myself earlier. I’m Detective Jiménez. I work under Pantheon’s Awakened Incident Investigation Branch. I’m sure you’re aware of the recent incident your friend was involved in.”
“Yeah, I know about it,” Babak replied, arms crossed. “I also know he already answered questions—on-site and at the hospital. And the ones responsible were arrested. So why are you here?”
“No need to get defensive, sir,” Jiménez said calmly. “I’m not here for you. I just need to ask your friend a few clarifying questions.”
Babak narrowed his eyes. “Didn’t he give you guys his contact info? Why not just call him or ask him to come in?”
Something about this felt off.
“Due to the urgency of the matter, I was forced to come to his residence,” the supposed detective replied coolly.
“Right…” Babak trailed off, eyes narrowing. “Well, unless you have a warrant or something official, I suggest you leave. Or else I’ll be calling the cops—or your superiors, if I can find them.”
The man's expression darkened. His eyes seemed to narrow unnaturally, and for a split second, Babak could’ve sworn his pupils slit—like a cat's. Like he was deciding whether to pounce.
Then, as if a decision had been made, the apartment door across the corridor opened. It was the older lady from across the hall, stepping out with a laundry basket in her arms.
The extra witness changed everything.
The "detective" straightened his jacket with a forced smile. “Of course. It’s late. You probably just got off work and you're on edge. Let me leave you my card.”
He reached into his pocket, pulling out a clean, white business card and handing it to Babak. “Have your friend give me a call when he has the time.”
Babak hesitated but took the card.
The man brushed past him, walking a few steps before stopping. He turned back, as if he’d just remembered something.
“Oh,” he added, voice lower now. “And I’ll be expecting that call. Otherwise... I might have to come back with something worse than a warrant.”
He flashed a grin—sharp, predatory—and walked away.
Babak stood frozen, card in hand, a cold chill creeping down his spine.
Goddamn it, Dev... what the hell did you drag us into now? he thought.
Rowan Status Reveal
