Following the system notification, Uriel's consciousness retreated into the vast white void to await transport. She wasted no time in relinquishing control back to Knight. In an instant, the divine, statuesque female form dissolved, reshaping back into the lean, scruffy youth with messy black hair. In the blink of an eye, Knight slammed back into reality.
"I'm back..." Knight muttered, staring blankly at the sky as a torrent of memories surged into his mind.
'Ugh... I need to go there first.' Still intoxicated by the flood of foreign experiences, Knight decided to walk toward the only place he truly knew.
The afternoon sun spilled into the narrow alleys Knight used to call home. He walked the familiar paths, but the sensation was entirely different. Every step on the broken bricks felt heavier than before. Finally, he stood before the blacksmith shop... the place he once called home.
Knight stood amidst the rubble. The rhythmic clang of hammer on anvil that used to echo in his mind was replaced by a hollow, terrifying silence. He tried to reach for a feeling of grief in his chest but found only an unfillable void. Perhaps the "sediment" in his soul was too murky now; the image of the Old Master lying in a pool of blood overlapped with the crumbling white temples from Uriel's memories and the shadows of the soldiers he had slain. It was all tangled; he couldn't tell whose pain belonged to whom.
"Are you... still in there?" Knight whispered into his own soul.
There was no vocal reply, only a faint heat radiating from the tattoo on his back, as if the defiant archangel was in a deep slumber, leaving him to face the loneliness alone. Yet, it wasn't all bad. The internal quiet made him feel like he was still himself despite the storm of memories.
'What now...' Knight scanned the dim interior of the smithy. His eyes caught an object covered by an old burlap sack.
He stepped forward and yanked the cover off. Thick dust billowed into the air, revealing a sword leaning against a chipped anvil. It was crudely forged, the iron surface rough and unpolished a reflection of the Old Master's limited skills as a low-tier blacksmith.
"...Funny to see something like this after using those masterworks in the trial."
Knight muttered, grasping the hilt wrapped in worn leather. The balance was off, the weight uneven. He swung it through the air, producing a disappointing woosh.
"The center of gravity is a mess. Lacks temper. The tip is even chipped..."
His words sounded like an insult to the dead, yet his eyes trembled. This low-quality sword was the product of the sweat that had fed him for years. This meager craftsmanship was what earned the scraps of coin that hired an orphan like him, keeping him alive until fate swept him into the Tower.
Knight gripped the hilt tighter, feeling the grit of the iron against his skin. To others, it was scrap. To him... it was the only treasure proving he had a past.
"I'll put it to good use. Rest easy, Master." Knight grabbed an old scabbard nearby and walked out of the smithy.
He walked aimlessly, the sound of passing cars reminding him he was back in the year 2030 after being in a trial that felt ages old.
'Everything looks normal... didn't that Goliath rampage here?' Knight followed the road until he spotted a cafe across the street.
'...I have some money.' He reached into his torn pocket, feeling the coins he had scavenged from the smithy. 'I'll go ask about the Goliath in there.'
In his ragged cloak, Knight leaped across the four-lane road with ease. He had to thank the fragments and Uriel's soul for the enhanced strength, even if his physical appearance hadn't changed much.
Chime, Chime.
The bell rang as Knight opened the door. The interior was elegantly decorated far too posh for his current state. The shop was crowded, with only a few empty tables left, but the counter was completely vacant as if people were afraid to sit there.
He didn't care. He walked straight to the counter and sat down.
"What can I get for you?" an icy female voice asked.
'Crap, I didn't think about what to order.' Knight froze. He sat on the stool, a wave of social anxiety hitting him. The warm lighting and the aroma of roasted coffee made his soot-covered, blood-stained rags look even more out of place.
"...Do you have any recommendations?"
He looked up and locked eyes with the waitress. Knight nearly forgot to breathe. Under the light, her face looked as if it were carved by a master sculptor. Her bright blonde hair cascaded down, framing cold yet captivating eyes of violet-blue. Her beauty rattled him almost as much as seeing Uriel's face in his reflections.
He realized that if this woman had wings and a flaming sword, she wouldn't look much different from the archangel inside him. No wonder the shop was so full.
"Iced Americano... if you can handle the bitterness," she replied flatly. Her gaze wasn't judgmental of his rags; she simply seemed indifferent.
"Sure... I'll take that," Knight replied, looking away.
While waiting, he checked the atmosphere. Most customers were well-dressed, checking news via holograms floating above their tables. Knight caught a headline on a nearby screen:
[Summary of District 13 Tragedy: High-tier Welder Unit 6 successfully suppressed 'Rank 6 Goliath'; most areas closed for restoration.]
Knight frowned. 'Successful? They actually took that thing down?' He remembered vividly how powerful that monster was.
"Here is your Americano."
The glass was placed in front of him. Knight took a sip to hide his embarrassment. The harsh bitterness of the black coffee hit his tongue, making him wince, but he tried to maintain a cool exterior.
"Excuse me..." Knight decided to ask the waitress as she wiped a glass. "The District 13 Goliath... did it really end that easily?"
She paused, her violet-blue eyes meeting him again. They were full of boredom. "There was significant damage. Deaths in the hundreds... though mostly just people from the slums."
Her voice was calm, and though her words were technically polite, they felt incredibly cold.
"I see..." Knight took another sip, wincing again at the bitterness.
"Do you want sugar?" she asked, seeing his pained expression.
"...A little would be nice, haha," Knight chuckled awkwardly. A jar of sugar cubes was placed in front of him.
"Here. Enjoy your drink," she said before moving to another table.
Knight added a cube and stirred his coffee with a straw, his eyes following her. She moved through the tables with a grace far beyond a simple waitress. Her comment about "people from the slums" was a painful truth of this world... a world where the poor were valued no more than dust under the feet of Welders.
'Funny...' Knight thought. 'Hundreds dead, summarized as a "success." Those of us who struggled for our lives don't even get a mention in the news.'
He sipped the now-slightly-sweet coffee. The hologram news switched to images of his alley. The ruins of the smithy flashed for a second before the screen cut to a man in radiant golden armor, hailed as the hero who slew the Goliath.
Knight stared at the man in gold. The power radiating from him was palpable even through a screen. 'So that's a real High-tier Welder...' He compared the man to the Red Cross General he had killed. The gap was so vast it made his spine go cold. Against someone like that, the crude sword at his hip was like a matchstick trying to pry up a log.
He opened his status window again to verify the system notifications.
Name: Knight
Class: —
Title: —
Physical Condition: Two Souls (Slumbering)
Equipment: —
Inventory: Low-quality Iron Sword
Skills: Eyes of Judgment, Flames of Judgment, Uriel (Unavailable)
Knight realized he had no Class or Title. During the trial, he had focused only on Fragments which were now gone and his skills were crossed out as if unusable.
'Crossed out? And the new Uriel skill is unavailable?' Knight tried to focus his mind to use the Eyes of Judgment. Usually, it worked on command, but now nothing happened. No threads of fate appeared.
'...My most-used skill is gone. The flame skill is hopeless then.' He sighed in pain. He had risked his life, yet he had nothing tangible to show for it except a stronger body and better senses.
He inferred the reason quickly: those skills were not tied to his soul, but to Uriel's. He could only use them in the trial because the fragments contained pieces of Uriel's soul.
'So I'm just a vessel who can't even use her power...' Knight brooded, sipping his coffee. 'Wait... I created the flame skill by learning from the memories. It became "Judgment" because Uriel's soul was mixed with mine. I need to find a way to use my skills without relying on her.'
Uriel was like a parasite. She had strong skills but wouldn't let him use them, yet she wanted him to climb the Tower for her revenge. Absurd.
'What are Classes and Titles anyway? I spent my whole life in a smithy.' He looked at the counter. 'Should I ask the waitress? She seems to know a lot and looks a few years older than me.'
The waitress returned to the counter.
"Excuse me... this might sound stupid, but can I ask you something?" Knight asked, his voice stuttering.
"I'm Freya. And no, I'm not giving you my number," she cut him off, clearly used to being hit on.
"N-no! That's not it!" The knight turned red.
"...Then what?" Freya asked, her tone as indifferent as ever.
"Uh... do you know anything about Classes and Titles?" Knight asked with a dry laugh.
"...I know enough. But that's basic stuff they teach in elementary school," Freya sighed.
"Haha... I never went to school," Knight chuckled, rubbing his head.